Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27737 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 139(@200wpm)___ 111(@250wpm)___ 92(@300wpm)
I force myself to shrug. "Nothing." I turn my gaze to the window while speaking. As much as I hate to admit this, it's still stupidly hard for me to maintain eye contact when lying.
"I don't believe you."
"Then don't. You can—-"
"You're not the type to throw your life away for nothing."
Shit.
I hate, hate, hate when Cat comes out of the blue and just spouts out the hard truths like her words can't throw one's life upside-down.
But it does.
Always.
My teeth start grinding as her mind starts replaying her words endlessly.
You're not the type to throw your life away for nothing.
Is that how the past week seems to Cat?
And is it what everyone else is thinking?
The way I've been hanging out with the wrong crowd, cutting classes, and upvoting all the Reddit posts that talk shit about Giancarlo—-
If that's me throwing my life away, does this mean I don't and won't have a life without the Marchettis?
"Did something happen between you two?"
If only it were easy for me to say 'yes'.
Because something did happen between Giancarlo and me, and I don't even know how to explain it.
Something's changed, but because I don't want Giancarlo to think he has the power to leave me confused and restless (even when it's true)—-I've gone back to my old ways instead.
Oh, if only I could just say yes.
And it's why I've found myself pushing and pushing and pushing all the buttons I can think of to make a certain someone snap.
"Maybe, if we talk about it—-"
I cut Cat off with a glare. "You have it wrong, okay? Nothing happened between Giancarlo and me."
Cat's expression softens. "That bad, huh?"
This entire exchange reminds me of the time I asked the other girl about her favorite Marchetti, and it suddenly feels like either karma is at work...or it's something worse like God making a point.
So which is it?
It's been years since I last thought of God, and since I doubt that's no coincidence either...
You show up when I need you the most, is that it?
"If you're worried about me telling anyone about this," Cat goes on earnestly, "I promise to keep everything a secret."
And now, you think I should talk to Cat?
I suppose I could give it a try, but...
Francisco flashes an unabashed grin when he sees me looking at him suspiciously.
"As long as you don't say anything that will make me think your life is in danger, I will see, hear, and speak no evil."
Since that sounds fair, I guess all that's left to do is—-
"Giancarlo is still convinced we'll get married."
—-admit I have a misunderstanding with Giancarlo without getting into the specifics.
Cat is still silent beside me, but I don't mind waiting. She's always been the type to only talk when she has something worth saying, and that's why I end up holding my breath when she finally looks at me.
"I didn't expect you to be the type to deny what's obvious and inevitable."
I'm genuinely stunned at how she's worded things. "Don't you care about who you'll marry? Don't you want it to be your choice?"
"Oh, Sari." Cat's eyes are suddenly twinkling. "I didn't realize you're such a romantic."
"W-What? No! I'm not—-"
"I think it's cute," Cat adds.
"Very cute," Francisco chimes in, but with the way he's grinning, it's obvious he's only saying so to piss me off.
"For the fucking love of—-"
Cat looks at me chidingly. "Sari!"
"Then stop fucking say—-"
"There's nothing shameful about wanting to marry for love."
"I didn't say—-"
"And it's certainly possible that the two of you could fall in love—-"
Oh, thank fuck.
We've finally reached the hotel, and I jump out of the car as soon as the limo cruises to a stop. Talking to Cat is the worst idea ever, and the farther I get away from her, the better.
So not helpful, God! So not helpful!
I'm tempted to start shoving people away just to let off some steam, but common sense prevails, and I simply dig my nails into my palms instead.
Even without Francisco giving me La Strega's warning, I already know I'm expected to be on my best behavior tonight. If negotiations are successful, an alliance between Sicilian and French mafia families will be formalized, and...shit.
I should've expected this, but I didn't.
It's my father standing right in front of me, and next to him is no one else but Simon Martino, the man who almost raped me.
"I'm surprised to see you here."
I see what you're doing, Father.
He wants to make it seem like what he's doing is normal, but it's not.
Not even in our world.
And I'll be damned if I'll let either of them get away with it.
I turn my gaze to the asshole who thought my body was his to violate and trash, and I want to cry, dammit.
Why, God?
I know counseling plays a role in this. I know I wouldn't be where I am now if not for the former Angel of Death and the Marchettis. I know I owe them my life, but I'm also sure as fuck that it's God who's the ultimate reason why I don't feel anything—-