Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
I park in the lot and get out. The place is crowded like always and I feel a strange surge of pride. This is the Famiglia’s joint and its popularity reflects well on our organization. It’s a strange feeling, since I’ve worked so hard for so long to try to differentiate between me and the Famiglia, but ever since I got involved with Karah, I’ve been having these feelings more and more.
I try imagining what it would be like to be a part of the family. Not the Famiglia—the actual Bruno family.
If Casso were my real brother. Fynn and Gavino too.
If Don Bruno were my father-in-law.
It makes me sick.
I shove in through the front and angle toward the bar. Fynn’s sitting there with a drink in one hand. He’s watching someone across the room, and I don’t see who right away. I grab the stool next to him and plan on dragging him into the hunt—
But I immediately lose my train of thought.
“Nico. What are you doing here?” Fynn frowns at me over his drink. “You look a little harried. Been a busy night?”
I say nothing. I’m too busy staring at Karah.
She’s sitting at a table. That’s not so unusual. People sit at tables in restaurants. But there are three young soldiers with her, and she’s leaning toward one of them, this decent-looking guy named Alfonse with a solid reputation and a fucking charming smile. Like Rinaldo, but not a psychopath and not as ambitious. Alfonse is low level, but dependable.
She laughs at something he says, and he looks at her like he enjoys her company—and wants more of it.
“Nico, man, you there?”
I flinch and look at Fynn. “What’s she doing here?”
He scratches his neck. “She wanted to head over here and I couldn’t let her go alone.” His voice drops slightly. “Not after last time.”
I lean closer to him. “You think it’s appropriate to let her sit at a table of men?”
“She’s not breaking any rules right now. I don’t see a ring on her finger.” Fynn’s glare back is hard. I’m friendly with him and Gavino, but Casso’s my real friend in the family.
“You’d think you’d be more careful after last time.” It’s a low blow but I’m too angry to watch myself.
Fynn’s expression twists. “Fuck you, man. What is with you and Karah anyway? You’re like a couple of grade school kids with crushes on each other, always bickering back and forth.”
“It’s not like that.”
“Yeah, man, it’s like that. At least grow a pair and admit it.” He throws his drink back and glares at me. “If Karah wants to talk to some other guys in the Famiglia, that’s her right. She’s got to marry someone or else Papa’s sending her away. I don’t see you stepping up.”
I want to punch him in the throat.
How dare he suggest Karah should marry someone else?
Karah’s taste is still on my lips. Her moans are still in my ears. And she’s sitting at that table, talking to those fucking children, and flirting with them shamelessly.
Karah is fucking mine.
I see red. I see black.
I forget all about fucking Rinaldo.
Karah excuses herself from the table and walks off. Without thinking, I stand and follow her. Fynn calls out for me to wait but fuck him and fuck everyone else.
I catch a glimpse of her disappearing into the women’s bathroom. I don’t hesitate. I barge in and a middle-aged woman washing her hands at the sink stares at me, startled.
“Get out,” I growl at her.
“This is the women’s room, you can’t be in here.”
“I said, get the fuck out.”
She frowns like she ate something nasty but she finishes drying her hands and hurries away.
I stand in front of the door and wait for Karah to emerge from a stall.
It’s a long silence. She knows I’m here and she’s making me wait. After a minute or two, she reappears.
She doesn’t look at me as she walks to the sink and washes her hands. When she’s done, she dries them with a paper towel and tosses it into the trash. She stands in front of me and crosses her arms.
“Excuse me, I’d like to leave now,” she says.
“What the fuck are you doing out there?”
Her jaw tightens. “I’m not doing anything.”
“You’re flirting with them.”
Anger flares sharp and hot in her. “So what if I am?”
I take a step forward and she takes a step back. A flash of something drifts into her expression—it’s fear.
Fear?
I take a deep breath and get myself together. I just chased her into the women’s room and threw some strange lady out so I could give her shit about talking to some soldiers—and all this after she got assaulted by Rinaldo not too long ago in a very similar situation.
When she takes another step back, I don’t chase her. I give her some space. I’m not here to hurt her.