Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 76881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 384(@200wpm)___ 308(@250wpm)___ 256(@300wpm)
“Please, Mr. Savage, this way. Mr. Fabbri is waiting upstairs.” He gestures towards the elevator.
I'm not the only one who's tense. I know my men well enough to see the signs now. Savage looks just a little extra predatory today, Crank has no trace of amusement in his expression, and Poe’s dark eyes are searching every corner and shadow for signs of surprises. I don’t have their training, but even I can feel the driving need to shut down all the parts of me that might cause me to hesitate at the wrong moment.
The elevator ride is quiet and tense. Stefano's men spread out to the edges, forcing us to stand in the middle. The guys form a shield around me by putting me between them, but the strange addition of Burton is a constant thorn in my side. The man who told us to follow doesn't seem interested in continuing any sort of small talk. He stares straight at the elevator buttons and ignores us.
I'm so tense, even the ding of the elevator makes me jump a little. Here we go, I guess.
The elevator opens into a fancy lobby. The elements of marble and glass from the outside are continued here, elegant but cold. Heavy biker boots echo as we walk over the marble floor through a pair of double glass doors with a gold inlay of what I assume is the Fabbri corporate logo. They might be criminals, but they're good at making it look like a completely legitimate business. Who knows? Maybe it even is on the surface. Something that pays taxes while they run their other operations behind.
I don't know. I'm not an expert on organized crime. I’m just a girl who stole a million dollars from the mob by accident.
We walk down a short hallway to a single door, flanked by the suited men the whole way. One of them opens the door and we step into Stefano Fabbri's office. He stands behind his desk, waiting for us.
I get my first look at the man who has turned my life upside down. He's as oily as he sounded on the phone, though it's more of a vibe. I mean, his suit is so fancy, it has to be custom made. I've seen my share of laundry after all. It fits him like he was born into it, dark blue with subtle, slightly lighter pinstripes. He has the kind of fake smile that a used car salesman would be proud of, and his immaculate hair is glossy and slicked back. He's clean shaven with nothing out of place. Still, there's this feeling that I'm looking at a sewer rat in a fancy suit.
His office is built to impress, with classical art pieces, heavy furniture, and a massive wooden desk. On one side is a sitting area with a few leather chairs around a black stone coffee table, on the other, the office extends far enough to have a matching stone top meeting table with twelve chairs around it. Large windows give an impressive view of the city, with the ocean stretching off in the far distance. Sunlight fills the room, but the temperature is perfect. In some ways, I'd assume someone like him would prefer darkness.
“Savage,” he says, dropping the Mr. that everyone else seems to want to add. I definitely recognize that same detached voice that I heard on the phone. “I'm so glad you came to your senses. I would've hated for us to get off on the wrong foot so early in our relationship.”
“We don't have a relationship. Let's just get this shit over with,” Savage growls. If I didn't know better, I'd be fully willing to believe that he was about to sell me out. Luckily, I do.
“Of course, of course. If we can’t be friendly, then let’s at least be civil. Refreshments?” Fabbri gestures at the meeting table. “I can have someone bring water, wine, soft drinks, beer…”
“Nah, we're fine.” Savage takes a seat in the middle, with Burton on one side, and Crank and Poe on the other with me between them.
Fabbri's eyes fall on me, and they're terrifying. Dark, cruel and calculating, like I'm not even a person, just a thing for him to deal with. His smile comes nowhere near those eyes. “Ms. Holland, finally. I’ve been curious about you for a long time.”
“I didn’t know you existed,” I snap, not quite able to keep myself from saying anything, but I’m smart enough to stop there.
He nods. “Understandable, and I do apologize for the unpleasantness with your uncle, but I have someone here that I think you'll be happy to see.” He snaps his fingers and one of his men goes to open the door.
Flanked by two big burly men, a woman is brought in. I blink in surprise, honestly not expecting her to even be alive anymore. “Aunt Heather?”