Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 369(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
“No, what?”
“Don’t slip to that dark place again,” she said. “I saw you, you know,” she said. “I was driving past on the way to deliver some meals to your Aunt Marabeth, or I would have stopped. Because, for the first time in years, honey, I saw light in you. Light. And now it is gone again.”
“Mom, it’s… complicated,” I said.
“Complicated how? Did the two of you fight?”
“It’s complicated. In a Family way,” I added, watching as her brows pinched at this new information. “Which is why I need her full name.”
“Avery, you said?” she asked, moving closer, her hands grabbing the back of the chair she’d vacated, her wedding and engagement rings still on her finger.
I married once and for life, she’d said when one of my sisters had questioned her decision not to date after our father’s passing.
“Yeah. Avery. Blonde. Clumsy. Big curser.”
“Sweetie… there was no Avery.”
“What?” I asked, my whole body going taut. “Yes, there was. She was there on the interview day. Late, but she was there.”
“Honey, I remember all of the girls who I interviewed. I did extensive sit-downs with each of them. I know every girl who made the cut. And every one who didn’t. There was only one with an A name. Amelia. A redhead. That was it.”
“Mom, I met her. I hired her.”
“I believe that. But I am telling you that I didn’t meet her. I didn’t approve of her. And, believe me, I don’t love admitting that. I was hoping all my ‘meddling’ would eventually pay off. And you’d end up happily married and making me grandbabies. But, I am certain I never met an Avery.”
How the fuck could this be?
The logical, borderline cruel, part of my brain was already whispering the answer to that, though.
This was a well-planned scheme, right from the beginning. A woman who could shoulder her way into my life in an inconspicuous way. Then start the search for what she wanted.
“Let me ask you something,” she said, sitting down, placing her hand over mine. Like she knew I was ready to bolt, and she wanted to force me to hear her out.
“Okay.”
“Are we sure we can condemn this woman?”
“I caught her red-handed,” I said, jaw so tight I was getting an earache.
“And how did she react? Angry?”
“No. No, she was crying. And then she ran. Out of the house. Barefoot. But, Ma, come on,” I said, letting it hang.
“Come on… what?” she asked.
“If she was in my house with an agenda, she knew who I was, what I’m in, and would, rightly, be scared of the repercussions. Running away scared doesn’t prove anything.”
“No,” she conceded. “But crying… crying might. Look,” she said, sucking in a deep breath. “I have been in this life a lot longer than you have, my son,” she said. “I know it might be hard for you to imagine that I could know anything, thinking you all protect us so much. But it’s different between a man and his wife. The things they talk about. Situations that impact the whole family unit. It’s different. I know things. I’d been your father’s ear and shoulder for many years.”
“I’m sure you were,” I agreed, nodding.
“So, pillow talk has given me a very broad view of this Family and how things can sometimes work. Especially in the ugly days of Lorenzo’s father’s reign. And I know that women in this life, not in our Family, but in others, can and have been used as pawns to get men what they want. Through coercion or force.”
“You think she was made to do the job?” I asked. And there it was. Just the tiniest ray of light breaking through all the darkness.
“It makes sense. I know you, Milo. You are a smart, careful man. Even more so the past few years. I don’t think you would have missed a woman in your home, in your bed, who was being that dishonest with you. I believe there was honesty between you, but someone was forcing her to do something she didn’t want to. Why else would she be crying? A professional conwoman wouldn’t cry.”
That was also a good point.
I hadn’t met a ton of female bosses of criminal organizations, but they were out there. And they were often even more feared than the men. Because we knew what it took to make men in this world respect you. Cunning. Ruthlessness. Coldness. Hardness.
The opposite of everything I believed Avery to be.
Except, of course, I could have just been played, believing a version of herself she was feeding me. Using her body as a distraction.
My stomach roiled at the idea, and my vision flashed to memories of her. The desire in her eyes. The warmth. The affection.
Could that all be faked?
So well that, even up close, I couldn’t tell she was being dishonest?