Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56365 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 225(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
The lean man frowns at me from across the roof of his car. We’re in the front courtyard of the townhouse, the vehicle gleaming after a recent wash. “There are several issues, ma’am,” he says, clearly uncomfortable with challenging the soon-to-be Mafia princess.
Since Dario left around two hours ago, I’ve felt more restless than I have since I agreed to this deal. I let myself fall into a false sense of intimacy, let the sass hint at something real. However, earlier, and let’s be honest, I played my part, too. He made it clear that was a mistake.
“Are you seriously telling me—”
“Is something wrong?”
We both turn at the sound of Maria Moretti’s voice. She walks toward us in a long, flowing dress that makes her appear to float elegantly. Rocco stands a little straighter, his hands behind his back.
“I was telling Miss Esposito that we can’t, at this time, take her to the theater.”
“I’ve got keys,” I tell Maria. “The manager let me rehearse there any time I wanted. I know I’m not in the play anymore, but …”
Maria stops a few feet from us, gesturing to me. I approach her, moving out of earshot of Rocco. She lowers her voice. “In this life, my dear, sometimes you have to tell: not beg, not ask, but tell. If you can do that, I’m sure we can accommodate this.”
I get what she’s telling me. I need to be firm in my resolve. Demand that my orders are complied. I wonder if this is some sort of test.
Returning to Rocco, I try to ignore that little voice inside that tells me he’s just doing his job. I forget about the times I was chewed out at work by assholes who thought they could talk to me any way they wanted.
“Rocco, you’re going to arrange security, and you’re going to drive me to the theater. If you insist on creating imaginary obstacles, my fiancé—your employer—will hear about this.” When he opens his mouth, I stampede on, mostly because I feel awkward and want to get this over with. “Perhaps you think Dario will agree with you, but what if you’re wrong? Do you want to be the person who’s ruined the love of his life’s entire day? Well, do you?”
After a pause, he looks down at the ground. He undoubtedly wants to say so much, but his position—and probably Maria’s presence—stops him. “Give me some time to make arrangements,” he says after a pause and then walks toward the house.
Maria walks up to me with a big smile on her face. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
It was, actually, but I don’t say that. She nudges me. “I’ll come with you and see what this acting malarkey is all about. You should savor these little adventures while you can.”
“While I can?”
“A Mafia princess has no business traipsing around on stage or the screen, Elena,” she says as if this is the most obvious thing in the world. “When you become my daughter-in-law, you’ll have to forget this dream.”
This should mean nothing. It’s not like Dario and I will be together anyway. Yet panic tears through me as I process her words. I almost say if I become your daughter-in-law, but ever since that first dinner, I’ve developed the habit of thinking before I speak.
“When I marry Dario, I won’t be able to act?”
“Has he not informed you of this?”
Since this is all fake, he has no real reason to. “Uh, not in so many words.”
“Most likely, he’s trying to protect your feelings, dear. Let’s enjoy this afternoon. I’d like to see what your passion was before you found my son.”
I should be happy that this is all make-believe, then. Knowing that if I ever were to be with Dario, I’d have to sacrifice the most significant part of my identity hurts. But it’s not real, so it doesn’t matter. Still …
No, there’s no still. There are no buts. This entire thing is a transaction, and it’s time I remembered that, even if the flirting is so addictive. Every time he smiles, it feels like a minor victory, and the steaminess in the limo lives rent-free in my head even though it should have been evicted immediately.
I have to remember what this truthfully is.
There’s even more security since Maria is coming with me, but it’s easy to forget that when it’s just Maria and me in the theater. She sits in the front row as though she’s the director, and I’m auditioning for a role.
“What would you like me to perform?” I ask with confidence that I’m not sure I feel.
“We could play a game,” she replies, seeming more excited than usual, carefree. Maybe it’s the fact there are no staff members around. “I could give you a role … and you could give it your best shot?”