Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97634 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 325(@300wpm)
Nikolai leaned against the wall with his arm crossed, a bored expression on his face. Luca sat on the floor by his father, Nikolai’s phone in his little hands as he played a game that kept pinging praise when he’d scored six more gumdrops.
Tatiana had this weird look on her face as she stared at Gio, one that had me lowering my brows because it was reminiscent of… longing.
“Oh boy,” Amara said softly and walked around me to get to where Nikolai was standing.
The animosity coming from Dmitry and my brother left a sour taste in my mouth. This was supposed to be my wedding day, albeit a simplistic one, but the last thing I wanted was family drama.
“Are we really doing this? Right now?” I finally asked.
Gio let out a frustrated growl and turned to look at me, his expression softening. “Sorellina,” he said in a harsh voice. “Are you okay?”
His question took me back to when Amara had been shot and I’d left her room to go looking for him. There weren’t many times that Gio let his emotions through. Men like him—like Dmitry, Nikolai, and every other man in organized crime—saw their emotions as a weakness. Such a toxic trait.
But Gio baring that vulnerability to me, especially in front of so many, told me he was genuine.
“I’m fine.” I gave him a smile, one that reached my eyes because I felt Dmitry staring at me.
I glanced at my big Russian, saw the heat in his gaze as he raked it up and down my body. He pulled a shiver from me simply by the way he looked at me.
When I stared back at my brother, knowing if I kept staring at Dmitry, my desire would be visible to everyone. Embarrassingly so.
I could see the guilt and shame on Gio’s face, but a part of me couldn’t find it in myself to hold any kind of animosity toward him. I just wanted to move on.
There was so much I wanted to say. To tell him he should’ve talked to me first about any kind of marriage, especially since he’d been against it from the beginning. But I didn’t need to run off like I had. If things hadn’t worked out the way they had with Dmitry, I could have started a massive war between the two factions, especially since I knew Dmitry would have set fire to anyone who tried to hurt me.
So this shit show was on me, too.
I wanted to thank Gio for having my back. He’d been put between a rock and a hard place, where family and loyalty for the Cosa Nostra was concerned.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered. Gio’s expression softened, and he gave me a crooked smile.
“I love you, sorellina.”
God, I loved my family.
I looked at Dmitry, a fierce possessiveness in his expression directed right at me. When I looked back at my brother, I wanted to tell him I loved Dmitry, that I had for so long.
But I could see the understanding in his eyes, and knew he was aware of it all without me having to say one word.
“This isn’t what I wanted for you,” he whispered and took a step closer.
Dmitry made a gruff sound, and Gio snapped a narrow-eyed glare at him before looking at me once more.
“This isn’t what I wanted for Amara either, even if she is happy.” Nikolai gave a harsh growl, and Gio gave a humorous laugh as he scrubbed a hand over his face. He cast a glance at Tatiana.
Interesting. There was definitely a story there.
When Gio looked at me again, I knew I had to tell the truth.
“I haven’t been honest with either of you. Any of you.” I looked around the room, making eye contact with Amara and Nikolai, then finally staring at my brother. “For the last five years, I’ve been writing to Dmitry while he was in prison.”
There was heavy silence, a thick oppression that suddenly filled the room. I could feel Gio’s anger rising, his mind no doubt jumping to the most heinous things that Dmitry would do to a fifteen-year-old pen pal.
“Before you lose your mind, know that he only wrote to me once before my eighteenth birthday, and it was to tell me to stop writing to him. He told me to stay away, that he wasn’t a good man and I was far too young.”
My statement had a bit of the animosity and violence leaving Gio. He exhaled, tipping his chin for me to keep going.
“But I didn’t listen. I kept writing to him because I wanted to. I won’t lie and say I didn’t have feelings for him, even if I knew nothing could have come about them. But it felt like so much more than that.” I shook my head. “I can’t describe it. Writing to him just made me feel less alone, even if he didn’t communicate back.”