Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73663 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 368(@200wpm)___ 295(@250wpm)___ 246(@300wpm)
Having Maddie here in my room with me is a distraction, and with everything in my life going to shit at the moment, I can’t really handle a new demand on my time and attention.
But she’s already gotten enough, and I don’t want to give her anything more.
“Fine,” she spits out. “Once I’m pregnant though, I’m moving out.”
“That works for me.” I sit back, crossing my legs. “Now, my turn. My mother is off limits. Do not bother her. Do not go into her room. If she speaks to you, act as though you work here. Be polite. She’s mostly fine during the day, but night is difficult, as you’ve seen. If you cause her any distress, there will be consequences. Understood?”
“Understood,” she says, tone clipped, face hard.
“Good. In public, you’ll act like the dutiful wife. Head down, smile on your face. I think you’ve had a lot of practice at that already.”
“What about in the office?”
“They’ll be informed, but don’t worry. Most of them know what I really am already.”
Her eyes widen a fraction. “Seriously? Was I the only one that didn’t know?”
“The real estate investment wing of the Rossi Famiglia is a legitimate business, though it’s mostly a front for money laundering and turf control. Most of the people that work there are from my organization.”
She groans and puts her face in her hands. “I must be the dumbest person in the world.”
“In your defense, I made it clear that you weren’t to find out.”
“Great. Thanks. I feel so much better.”
I fight back against a stab of guilt. I don’t know why I care about how she’s feeling—this is a business arrangement, and so what if she feels somewhat foolish? It isn’t the worst thing in the world. She’ll be fine.
But I find myself reaching out and touching her knee to comfort her. She looks at my hand then looks at me, and for one tense moment, she lets it stay there.
The desire rippling down my skin feels like fire. I’ve never wanted like this before. It’s a hunger, a need, an instinct, like something lodged deep inside of my soul, something I can’t ignore even if I tried to slice it from my veins. It’s the way she looks at me, the way she reacts to me, like she’s both terrified I’m going to crush the life from her and also excited that I might try.
“You will be my wife soon,” I say softly, sickened by my own weakness. “In a couple days, I’ll present you to the other heads of the main families. Then you’ll say the vows and you’ll be mine.”
“For a while.”
I don’t know why that bothers me. “Yes, but still mine.”
“In the meantime?”
I pull back and gesture at the bed. “We should get some rest, don’t you think? We have work in the morning.”
I like her uncertainty. She’s fighting herself. Part of her wants to acquiesce because that’s how she’s been surviving all this time, by playing the mouse, by sneaking around and refusing to make any waves. Except there’s more inside of her, a lioness hidden away. I don’t know what happened to make her like this, but I have this sudden, irrational urge to make her fight back, if only to wake up that creature I know she’s trying to suppress.
Reluctantly, she climbs down from the reading nook, but instead of obeying directions, she disappears into the closet. I let her go and wait patiently until she emerges again, this time in soft comfortable pajama bottoms and a button-down pajama top. I stare at her in surprise, at her simple, effortless beauty.
“What?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
“You look like an American Girl doll.”
“I like pajama sets.” Her face hardens. “Don’t tell me you’re going to hate on my pajama sets.”
“No, not at all. You look adorable, actually.”
“It’s part of my sleep routine, okay?” She brushes past me into the bathroom. “I need to set the mood.”
“The mood?” I linger in the doorway as she pulls open drawers and cabinets.
“Sleep mood,” she says, not looking at me. “I’m going to need more products. How am I supposed to have a decent nighttime routine without products?”
“You could always try just lying down and closing your eyes.”
“Doesn’t work.” She says it softly, but I can tell she’s hiding something. “Anyway, the more routine I have, the better. Especially with you around.”
“Right, since I’m the bad scary mafia man. You wouldn’t want to change anything too much.”
“Exactly.” She jabs a toothbrush at me. “Now get out of here and let me relax a little.”
I want to keep teasing her, but I decide it’s better to let her acclimate in her own way. I get into bed, shutting off the main lights, leaving only a single bulb above my side of the bed glowing. While I’m waiting, I look through emails on my phone, mostly legitimate work things but there are a few encrypted messages from the darker sides of my family.