Total pages in book: 64
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63052 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Sweat mixes with tears and when he finally pulls out of me, I’m spent. I have nothing left. My knees buckle and he lifts me in his arms and I just cling to him.
It’s a long while later when we’re upstairs and he’s bathed me and put me in his bed when I ask him:
“Why, Sergio?”
It’s that song, the melody haunting me now. He had it on repeat. I don’t know how many times I heard it. Don’t know how many times he’d heard it before I got there.
“Why don’t you sleep at night?” I ask.
He looks away from me. Rolls over on his back and stares up at the ceiling.
“Sergio?”
He turns his head. Studies me for a long moment before answering.
“Because time is running out.”
16
Sergio
Eric had managed to get video footage from a neighbor’s security camera that showed the man who’d left the flowers on Natalie’s doorstep. But people aren’t stupid. He’d had on a hoodie with a baseball cap underneath, the rim pulled low over his face. It could be anyone and I didn’t really expect whoever had done it to be waving their fucking hand in the air. This was to let me know they’d found a weakness. That they are not above using that weakness, hurting it—hurting her—to hurt me.
This is mafia life. No one is safe, not if you’re the fucking boss, not if you’re a foot soldier. Not if you have any connection to any of us. Because it’s what I would have done, too. I’m not above exploiting my enemies’ weaknesses, no matter how fucking innocent.
Karma. What goes around comes around. I guess it’s coming for me.
And that’s fucking fine. Me. Not her, though. She’s clean. She’s not part of this.
“Why are you so quiet?” Natalie asks. She’s sitting beside me and we’re driving up to my father’s house for Dominic’s birthday. I’m planning on spending the week up there, but Natalie needs to be back by Monday for classes.
“Nothing. Just preparing myself for the visit.”
“You’re making me nervous and I’m already a little anxious. Nauseous even.”
Things are happening at break-neck speed for us. I know she’s feeling a little swept up. And there’s nothing I’d like more than to slow down time for a little while. Maybe take that trip Salvatore suggested, go away with her. Somewhere warm and quiet. Somewhere where it’s just us.
Because time is running out.
Last night in the study with Natalie, that music, her, us together, it’s haunting me. My own words keep repeating in my mind and I can’t help but feel their warning. It takes all I have to keep it from dampening everything. From stealing the joy from everything.
It’s dark when we arrive at the foreboding gates of the Benedetti family home a little before seven at night. They open as we approach, closing only once we turn onto the long drive leading to the mansion looming in the distance.
I glance at her, squeeze her knee. She’s staring wide-eyed at the house. “Ready?”
She nods.
“Don’t look so worried. I told my dad he’d better be nice to you.” I wink, but she pales. “I’m kidding. Relax.”
“I don’t know why I’m so nervous. It’s stupid.”
“You’re with me. Don’t be nervous,” I try to reassure her. “Oh, there is one thing. Dominic can sometimes be a dick. Just ignore him.”
“Aren’t we here for his birthday?”
“Yeah, more for my mom than anything else, though. And he’s her baby. I know parents don’t technically have favorites, but they do.” As I open the car door she puts her hand on my arm.
“Sergio?”
One leg is already out of the car when I look back at her.
“How long does she have?”
I take a deep breath. “Hard to say. Months. She won’t survive the year.” I try not to feel anything when I say it, but that’s impossible. “Come on, let’s go in.”
She opens her door and by the time she climbs out, I’m at her side, our bags on my shoulder. I take her hand and turn to the large wooden doors illuminated softly by the old-fashioned lanterns on either side. I love this house. Always have. And one day, it’ll be mine.
The doors open as we approach and my father stands at the entrance. He barely glances at me. He’s been waiting to see Natalie ever since I told him this morning that I was bringing her.
“Dad,” I say as we climb the stairs. “Were you watching out the window?” I give him a hug and he pats my back.
“First girl you bring home? Yeah, I’m watching out the window.”
Natalie stands tense beside me. My dad’s not hiding the fact that he’s looking her over from head to toe—taking her measure. He’s gauging whether or not she’s worthy of me. The real question is are we worthy of her.
“This is Natalie Gregorian,” I say. “Let’s try and not scare her off before she’s inside, okay?”