Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75337 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“For fuck’s sake, Brio,” Cesare said, nudging the guy with his arm. “You don’t even know her,” he added.
“She’s here, ain’t she?” Brio shot back, shrugging.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Way I see it, two things,” Brio said. “One, she’s a woman who someone put their hands on. And she’s here where we can see it, so that requires some action. Two, she’s here. At Salvatore’s place. Which means something else too. So, whose eyelids am I slicing off?” he asked, looking back at me.
And I was pretty sure the man was actually expecting a name.
I mean, yeah. In fiction, guys like Brio existed. Guys who did the dirty work. Enforcers. Contract killers. That kind of thing.
Objectively, I guess, you had to imagine that art imitated life.
It was just weird to be face-to-face with one who wanted to murder someone for me. After a long night of torturing him first.
“How about we try this again,” Cesare said, trying hard to be the voice of reason while Salvatore just stood there looking kind of amused by the whole thing. “Brio, this is Whitney. The teacher and part-time waitress Salvatore fished a couple bullets out of recently.”
“Oh, no shit,” Brio said, shooting me a smile like he suddenly recognized an old friend.
“Whitney, this is Brio,” Cesare went on. “He’s feral,” he added.
I couldn’t help it. A strange, high-pitched sort of laugh escaped me at that very accurate description.
Embarrassed, and feeling very out of place suddenly, I took a step backward.
“I’m sorry if I interrupted a meeting or something. I was just looking for a cup of coffee.”
Why was Salvatore saying nothing?
Did it bother him that I was interacting with his Family?
“No meeting,” Cesare, clearly the one with the best manners out of the bunch. “We were just dropping in to check on the invalid,” he said, gesturing toward Anthony.
“And yet none of you fuckers has offered to get me a cup of coffee yet,” Anthony grumbled.
“Oh, I can—“ I started, moving toward the kitchen, only to have Salvatore step in my way.
“Don’t. His lazy ass needs to move around more than he is. If you start waiting on him, he won’t do it.”
“It’s just a cup of coffee,” I said, shrugging. “I don’t mind.”
“Hear that? She doesn’t mind. And I had to get up to answer the door since someone wasn’t going to,” Anthony said, shooting Salvatore a raised-brow look.
“How about you sit your pretty ass down and I’ll get you a coffee?” he asked instead, voice low. “You wait on people enough. Unless you’d rather have it in the room,” he said. Then, leaning closer, “I know Brio can be a little…”
“Psychotic?” I offered in a whisper.
“I was going to say intense. But that shoe fits him too.”
“I’ll take it in the room. It seems like you haven’t explained my presence here to them yet.”
“They just got here,” he insisted as he led me over toward the coffee.
And got me a… throwaway cup?
“I am going to lay it all out. Just haven’t gotten a chance yet,” he said, almost as if he was trying to assure me that he wasn’t hiding me or my situation from them. Or was I looking too much into things?
“Okay. Well, I’ll go enjoy my coffee and your massive TV that I assume has all the channels I refuse to pay for while you catch up with your family,” I said, giving him a smile as I put the cream and sugar into my coffee. “Spoon?” I asked.
And then this man, this full-grown adult man, handed me a plastic spoon out of a cutlery drawer full of plastic utensils.
Like… he didn’t have proper silverware.
Now, I wouldn’t judge if I thought he couldn’t afford it. But the man wore shoes that cost more than my couch.
“After I get them out of here, I think we need to talk more about your… treatment options,” he said, his fingers giving my side a little tickle as he leaned down and snagged my earlobe with his teeth.
“That is a very serious matter that we definitely need to… figure out. In depth. It could take hours,” I agreed, shooting him a smirk as I moved away. “Sorry, Ant, I tried,” I told Anthony as I passed, giving his shoulder a sympathetic squeeze.
I mean, sure, I understood that Salvatore wanted to make sure that his patient was moving an appropriate amount after an injury. But it didn’t seem so wrong for someone to want to have a little pampering. Especially when they were hurt. I’d have given anything to have someone bring me coffee or snacks when I was laid up with my injuries. Especially after a long day of work irritating them.
I made a mental note to do something nice for the kid before heading back to Salvatore’s bedroom to curl up in the bed and drink my coffee. And watch his cable, a luxury I hadn’t known since I still lived with my parents.