Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55750 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“That seems dramatic,” he mutters.
“Says the ladies’ man,” I say sarcastically since he’s anything but.
He raises his hands. “Neither of us is exactly crazy for relationships. But if you want to ask her on a date, what harm can it do?”
“It will bring her into our world. It will make her a target. Sofia has specifically asked me not to tell her about the Mafia aspect, and I don’t see a way for her to be part of our life without her somehow learning about that. Oh, and there’s the fact that she just watched me beat a man bloody. She looked terrified of me.” The memory makes me shudder. “She looked like she wanted nothing to do with me. Can I even blame her? What we do and are capable of is not the world other people live in.”
He sighs heavily, nodding. “I wish I could say you weren’t making good points.”
“You see it too. Impossible doesn’t seem so dramatic anymore, does it?”
“No,” he says with a groan. “Fuck, Matt. I’m sorry. I wish you could have a normal life.”
“We’re in this together. Anyway, it’s not all bad. We make this city better, or at least we stop it from getting any worse. Our men are happy and well-paid. They have wives and kids and lives and purpose. That’s more than most people in our spot can even dream of asking for.”
“You’re right,” he says. “That’s all we can realistically expect. That makes us pretty goddamn sad, in my book. Yet what choice do we have? Give up? Let somebody else take over the Family?”
“Hell no,” I grunt.
He nods. “Okay. Let’s put out the feelers, see if there’s any damage resulting from your scuffle with the douchebag. For what it’s worth, it sounds like he deserved it.”
My mind flits back to when he called Bella a fat bitch, but I have to redirect the attention quickly. Just thinking about it makes me want to drive back there and cause him more pain. I wouldn’t just beat him bloody this time. I’d tear him to pieces.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
BELLA
“I’m so sorry,” Emily murmurs, her hands wrapped around a mug of hot tea. She blows on it and then takes a slow sip. “I don’t know why I always choose such terrible people. I don’t mean to.”
“It’s not your fault,” I say quickly, finding it difficult to focus.
I can’t get that image of Matt out of my head, standing there in his dark leather jacket, his eyes wild, blood spattering his face and hands. His chest was rising and falling so fast and hard it was like I could see the leather of his jacket outlining the shape of his heaving muscles.
I’ve been called fat before and a bitch, but I never dreamed anybody would ever stand up for me. A guilty feeling hit me as I stared at him, even when I acknowledged the bloody and broken man on the floor.
Good. He deserves it. Matt did that for me.
“I’m just glad you’re safe,” I go on.
“Do you think your friend will get in trouble?” Emily asks.
“Do you think he should? You saw what he did to that guy.”
“That douche,” Emily spits. “Bella, seriously, I think if you two didn’t show up, I seriously think …” She lays her mug down, her hands trembling. “I think he would’ve pushed it all the way if you know what I’m saying. I think, right now, he’d be—” She cuts herself off with a shudder.
I rush to her side when she bursts into tears. She’s suffered too much in her life. First, all the crap with her dad, and now this.
“Why do the psychos always pick me?” she sobs, burying her face in my chest. “It’s always been that way since I was a kid.”
“None of that was your fault,” I say passionately. “Don’t say that. Don’t even think it. You did nothing wrong. You never have. You’re a good person, Emily. You deserve happiness.”
She wraps her arms around me, crying for a long time. At some point, I sense a change in the way she sobs. It’s as though she’s venting all the agony of her past and childhood. I do my best to hold her and help her let go of whatever agony she can. Just like we always do—one piece at a time.
Rolling over, I readjust my blanket as though that will make sleep possible. It’s one of those nights where I know I won’t drift off, no matter how heavy my eyes get or how many times I toss and turn.
I grab my phone and check the time. It’s just gone midnight.
Moving to mine and Matt’s text threat, I bite my lip, that image of him flashing into my mind again. Tall and broad and looking fierce as a wild animal. Surely, there’s something wrong with me if I enjoyed what happened even a bit. Yet I’m not sure I can deny it, either.