Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Maria?
I’m not….
Oh…they think I’m their rival’s daughter.
The nasty one who gave me the stink eye at the restaurant.
“But I –,” I start to protest, sitting up.
He might be old, but this fella has a grip of iron when he needs it, and his hand is strong on my shoulder as he repeats himself.
“We need to keep you here…But not for long,” he says firmly, relaxing his grip only when I lie back against the heavy, embroidered pillows.
“If you’re a good girl, it’ll be nice. We’ll look after you,” the old man says, creasing his mouth into a near smile before he frowns.
“But if you’re a bad girl…,” he warns me, a flash of fierceness in his eyes, “…your stay with us will be unpleasant.”
I feel my head nodding, suddenly tired.
Like everything’s just too much to handle.
Like sleeping was easier.
Maybe the old man’s right. Maybe this won’t be so bad after all.
But my biggest concern now is what happens to me once they find out I’m not who they think I am?
And whatever happened to my dreamboat? Where is he when I need him?
“Rocky?” he calls over his shoulder. “Come say hello to our newest guest… Maria Portello.”
Umm…this is gonna be awkward, I can just tell.
CHAPTER SIX
Rocky
Papa’s up to something, I can tell.
His following me after not going to meet Portello himself tells me he’s not as sick and weak as he made out.
He’s a man with revenge on his mind. And it’s a dish best served warm if I remember the last time he arranged some payback.
Portello said he knew my father well, but I know my Papa better.
He’s a man I wouldn’t want to cross, even though I am his youngest son.
Youngest, maybe, but not the favorite. Far from it.
But we can’t have everything in life.
I think I remind him too much of my mother, who left him when he was still a nobody within the family’s ranks.
If only she could see us now….
A part of me wishes she’d taken me with her, but I guess she was in enough danger as it was back then.
Leaving a mob family isn’t simply a matter of packing a bag and finding a new place to live.
But that’s the past, and today I’m living in the future somewhat, as I plan one with my mystery girl.
In my mind, at least.
And finding out exactly which apartment is hers is a lot easier, thanks to her nosy ground-floor neighbor.
I’ve hardly stepped inside the dilapidated building when a door swings open, and an older woman in a dressing gown and slippers pretends to be just stepping out.
But something tells me she’s had her face planted against her peephole for a while, straining to see and hear anything that’s happening outside of her tiny existence.
I’m used to looks from a certain type of lady, but this old dear is really something.
She’s almost cute in the way she comes on to me.
“Are…Are you here to fix my pipes?” she asks in a sultry tone, patting her thin hair and holding the top of her robe closed, keeping herself decent like people used to.
I smile, wondering which one of her pipes actually needs fixing. But that's not why I’m here.
“No, ma’am,” I tell her, letting her down gently with a kind look.
“But I am looking for the young lady who came in just now. Do you know which apartment is hers?” I ask, noticing the old lady’s face fall.
But only because she’s not so young herself anymore.
I imagine not too many men come calling, looking for her like days gone by.
I move closer and press my hand gently on her arm, and I let her know it’s important.
“I think she might be in trouble,” I explain softly. “I’m trying to help her.”
The old woman flushes and pats her hand on mine. She tells me the apartment number.
“Thanks,” I tell her. “And if I have time, I’ll see about those pipes.” I fib. Glad when it makes her smile some before she watches me climb the rotting staircase.
I think her pipes are the least of her worries… This whole place should be condemned.
Walking up to the apartment door, I realize I have no real plans for what it is I’m even going to say.
But if everything today so far is anything to go by, fate is on my side. I watch with a ripple of excitement as my hand raps on her door.
But nothing happens.
I don’t hear any movement, and pressing my ear against the door, I can hear sounds from the streets outside as if there’s a window open in there.
The sound of a girl screaming, then suddenly silenced, is enough for me to force my way inside.
And shattering the door from its hinges as if it’s made of balsa wood, I can see the place is empty at a glance.