Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“There’s a Milano girl. She’s Don Orsino’s stepdaughter.”
“Fuck.” I close my eyes. “You’re kidding me.”
“I want you to marry her. I know this is hard, especially after what happened last time, but a marriage alliance with the Milano Famiglia will solidify our position in the city, and their added weight will crush what’s left of the Irish and the Russians. I hear she’s pretty—”
I don’t know what else he says. The sound of my blood rushing through my ears drowns him out.
There’s no way he’s asking this of me a second time. I did my duty once, but Gian took my arranged wife away from me. And if I’m honest, I was goddamn happy he did it. Allegra’s a pretty girl, but she was never my type. Too prim, too spoiled. I would’ve married her, treated her well, had some babies with her, but there never would’ve been love.
And if I had done that, I never would’ve met Molly.
Fuck. Molly.
“—bring the three Italian families together with us at the top. That’s why I’m asking you to do this for me.” Renzo finishes his speech and stares at me. I look down at my hands.
My wife is probably getting home around now. My beautiful, pregnant, redheaded wife is likely smiling to herself as she makes lunch, probably thinking about how I’m going to fuck her into submission the second I walk through that door. My gorgeous wife, the woman I’m in love with, and who loves me right back.
“I can’t,” I say, forcing the words out of my throat.
Renzo sits back. “I thought you might say that.”
“I just can’t, Renzo. Not again.”
“I understand how you feel, but this isn’t the same situation. You’re still single, and this alliance—”
“No,” I say, slamming my hands down on the arms of my chair. I sit forward. “How much have I given to the Famiglia already? How much more can you possibly ask of me?”
His expression darkens. “You give what we all give. You give everything. If your Don is asking this of you, the only answer is yes.”
“My Don isn’t asking. My brother is asking.”
“That’s where you’re wrong.” Renzo looks pissed. He shakes his head and stands. “Think about what I said. I’m going to pretend like you didn’t refuse a direct order from your Don. Consider the correct course of action. Take a few days.”
I stand as well. We’re about the same height, and I meet my brother’s gaze. The brother that was always favored by our father no matter how hard I tried, all because he was born first. And the worst part is I still love him and think he’s a fair and honest Don, and if I weren’t head over heels for Molly, I might actually do this for him.
But there are new lines.
“I won’t do it,” I say, turning away. I walk to the door.
“Two days to change your mind,” he says as I leave, but he doesn’t say what will happen if I still refuse.
Chapter 23
Molly
I’m humming to myself as I prepare dinner. I’m in jeans and a low-cut tank top. Normally, I like to wear something a little more comfortable around the house, but I noticed the way Saul looks at my ass when I’m in tight stuff like this and I keep thinking about those pictures we exchanged. I want his gaze on me; I want him to need me. I’ve been anticipating him all day like a sweetness on my tongue.
When he finally comes home, I’m nearly finished cooking. Flattened chicken breaded and baked on top of an arugula salad with a squeeze of lemon and lots of fresh Parmesan cheese. Simple, but fantastic.
“You’re home,” I say, beaming at him, but my smile slips as he comes into the kitchen.
Saul looks exhausted. His body’s etched with tension. I can feel his mood from across the room, and even though he manages a weak smile, he looks like crap.
“I’m home,” he echoes.
I walk over to him, not thinking. My first instinct isn’t to run away and hide like it might have been a few weeks ago. No, now all I want to do is comfort him.
“What’s wrong?” I press my hands on his chest and get on my toes. His hands hold my hips as we kiss very softly. His breath is warm on my lips and a shiver runs down my spine. When I pull back, his smile is more genuine.
“Had one hell of a day.”
“Tell me about it.”
“I will. Do you mind if I drink?”
“You’d better since you’re drinking for two.”
He laughs and kisses me again. Some of his tension fades, and a spark of pride lights in my belly. This is a man who’s used to dealing with shit on his own, but I’m still able to lighten his load a little bit. Just seeing me and kissing me helps. That’s a nice ego boost.