Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Eventually, we were going to have to talk. About Vincenza and the trouble she was causing at the high table. About the quiet price on her head. About what happened to her father. All of it.
This was our fresh start and we were not going to build our relationship on a foundation that rocked. We needed to be solid. I needed her to be solid for me. And as I looked at her now, sitting down with my father, holding his hand as though she thought if she let go, she would wake from her desperate dream, I was convinced that, for me, she could be that woman.
Vittoria was resilient.
I got to witness that resilience firsthand when my brother turned up two hours late, stepped into my house without knocking and waltzed in like he owned the fucking place. Daniele made it to the kitchen, then walked his surly ass to the refrigerator, opened the door, stuck his head inside and asked a blasé, “So, what’s the big news?”
He tugged at his tie and casually undid the top button of his shirt before he popped the top on a bottle of beer. The cap tinkled when it landed on the floor. He lifted the cold bottle to his lips, tipped it back and drank from it for a whole ten seconds. “You got anything to eat, man? I’m starved.”
This guy. “Do you think about anything other than food?”
The bottle hung from his fingertips and he glanced back with a mischievous grin. “Food. Pussy. Drugs. In that order.”
Jesus.
I wondered about my brother sometimes. Must be nice not to have to worry about the basic shit the rest of us had to worry about. I always took it easy on him. So, maybe it was my fault that Daniele was the way he was. “Sit down. Let’s talk.”
Already, he knew something was up. He looked closely at me and, for once, read the room. His grin fell and his demeanor changed, became more rigid. “You talk. I’ll stand.”
Fine. “It’s about Vittoria.”
His grin returned, darker than I’d ever seen it and my brother jumped at the opportunity to say, “You finally ready to let go?” His eyes bled black. “Because I can do it for you. Let me do it for you. Say the word and I’ll make the drive over right now. I’ll wait ‘til she’s in bed. She’ll go to sleep and, boom, never wake up. Easy.” For a moment, his sanity came into question, especially when he said, “Or I can make her feel it. I’ll drag her out of bed by her hair, tie her up and make her scream. She’ll go scared, crying and begging.” He was far too eager when he leant in across the counter. “What’s your preference?”
It took everything I had not to lunge at him. This was my wife he was talking about.
Although, I couldn’t very well blame him for his callousness. He learned from the best, and they called me a heartless beast.
“I don’t think that will be necessary,” came her stone-cold response but when I turned to face her, I could see that hearing his detailed plan had shaken her to the core. She stepped into the kitchen and looked at me then. “Will it, husband?”
The steadiness in her voice. Her unblinking gaze. The angry pink hue in her cheeks.
Fuck me.
I didn’t think she had it in her and, right then, I was filled with swelling pride. “I don’t think so.”
A quiet moment passed.
“What the fuck?” I bristled at my brother’s slow glance up and down the length of her soft, curvy body. Daniele spun on me wearing an expression of utter confusion. “You brought her home? Already?” I was about the respond and tell him that my decisions were my own and I didn’t answer to him when he began to shake his head. “No, no, no. I’m out.” He slammed the fridge door shut, set his bottle down so hard the beer frothed over and I saw his eyes brim with anger. “Fuck this.” He pointed a hard finger at Vittoria, fuming. “And fuck you.”
Sometime during the short outburst, Vittoria gravitated towards me. Her side bumped my front as she blindly sought me out, knowing I would keep her safe.
And, God.
She would never know what that did to me.
It unleashed something. An arcane protectiveness that I’d never before felt. Not even with my children’s mother.
I vowed to keep her safe, by any means necessary.
My little wife may have looked small and weak, but everyone was so struck by her gentle beauty that they forgot to notice she wore jagged armor. I loathed to think on why she required it. Perhaps some things were better left alone because if I found out who was responsible for my softly-spoken Vittoria needing a shield, I would make them regret having not crafted one themselves.