Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
"Because that always works out so well," Enzo drawled.
"Like you guys know anything about women's hair," Nico muttered.
"Pretty sure this is different," Enzo drawled. "Though I have to say, princess, you're full of surprises recently."
"I'll help. I've got clippers in my truck," Luca said, already heading for the door.
"The guy with hair down to his ass has clippers?" Giuliano's voice held a hint of laughter, breaking the tension.
"This perfection requires maintenance," Luca shot back, flipping his dark waves dramatically. "Unlike some people who just roll out of bed looking perfect." He threw a pointed look at the twins.
"It's a gift," they said in unison, then grinned at each other.
My heart was pounding as they arranged a chair, but my hands were steady. Nico draped a towel around my shoulders with surprising gentleness.
"Maybe to here?" Luca gathered my hair at shoulder length. "Still long enough to pull back if you need, but..."
"But different," I finished. "Mine."
The first snip of scissors made my breath catch. A golden length fell to the floor.
"Tell us if you need to stop," Angelo said quietly.
I shook my head. "Just keep going."
They worked together with surprising coordination, each taking turns. Even Enzo's complaints about technique couldn't hide how carefully he handled each section.
"If you guys ever get tired of the criminal lifestyle, you could open a salon," I teased, earning several creative suggestions about where I could stick that idea.
"Almost done," Nico announced finally. "Just need to even up the back."
I held still, marveling at how much lighter my head felt. How much lighter everything felt. Each snip was like cutting away another thread that had tied me to Vittorio's authority.
"There." Finally, they stepped back.
I almost didn't want to look, but the mirror couldn't wait forever. The woman who looked back at me was... me. Just me. Hair falling in soft waves just past my shoulders, framing my face in a way that made me look more alive. Freer.
"I love it," I whispered, touching the ends in wonder. Something tight in my chest had loosened.
"Beautiful," Luca said softly, and the others murmured agreement.
Angelo shifted, that protective tension creeping into his shoulders. "Vittorio's going to—"
"Oh please," I grinned, turning to face them. "I've got my story all ready. 'Oh Daddy,'" I pitched my voice higher, playing up the helpless princess act, "'these terrible, brutal men held me down and cut my hair. I fought so hard but there were seven of them...'" I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead like an old-time movie star from the silent era.
Rocco choked on his coffee. Even Nico's worried expression cracked slightly.
"'They said it was punishment for trying to escape,'" I continued, enjoying their reactions. "'The scary one with the long hair did it.'"
"Hey!" Luca protested. "When did I become the scary one?"
"Have you seen yourself before coffee?" Enzo drawled.
"I'm going straight to hell for laughing at this," Angelo muttered, but his shoulders had relaxed.
"You know what you really look like?" Vincenzo said quietly, his eyes soft. "Like yourself. Strong. Free."
"Like a warrior queen," Enzo added with that devastating smile of his. "Ready to take back her kingdom."
Something warm bloomed in my chest at their words. I touched my shortened hair again, loving how light it felt. How right.
"Not funny," Giuliano said, but his lips twitched. His hands settled on my shoulders, eyes meeting mine in the mirror. "We have to get serious. We need to go over the plan. Everything has to be perfect."
I nodded. Tomorrow I'd go back to Vittorio's world of rigid control, but I'd be going back changed. Stronger.
Time to plan how to bring his empire down.
25
PEARL
My fingers trembled as I stared at the payphone, the memorized number burning in my mind.
Four weeks. It felt like a lifetime since they'd brought me to the compound, since everything I thought I knew started to change.
This morning's goodbye was still in my heart—the way they'd surrounded me with warmth one last time before I stepped out of the SUV. No words needed, just their touches grounding me: Giuliano's fingers tangled with mine, Enzo's kiss against my temple, Angelo's steadying hand at my waist. Even now, I could feel the ghost of Luca's fierce hug, hear Vincenzo's soft "We've got you", sense the twins' protective energy as they'd checked my wire one final time. Seven different ways of saying what we couldn't risk speaking aloud: Come back to us.
The street corner they'd chosen was perfectly ordinary: the kind of place a scared girl might end up after escaping her captors. I tugged the borrowed sweater closer, playing up my vulnerability while scanning for any sign we'd been spotted. Every detail had been planned. The scuff marks on my shoes from "running." The slight tear in my sleeve that Rocco had insisted made it look more authentic. Even my messy hair and smudged makeup had been carefully crafted to tell a story.