Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Chapter 11
Simon
I make preparations before I drive to my future wife’s apartment early the next morning.
And I hate this place. I scowl at the rundown house in the bad neighborhood. She lives in the equivalent of a damn closet, and the idea of her spending her life in squalor pisses me off. No human should be forced to live in these conditions. But in my research, I figured out that Emily has been feeding her father practically every single dime she’s made ever since she found out about the scam. She moved into this smaller place to save on rent, and she took on extra jobs, just to keep him from losing his home.
I’m not sure he knows how much his daughter loves him.
I’ve never felt anything like that before. That level of devotion. I sit outside her place and wonder if I would do the same thing for my father—and think that maybe I am, in my own way. He’s suffering in his role as the Don, and though he thinks I crave the power, that couldn’t be further from the truth.
I don’t want the responsibility, but it’s my curse to shoulder.
Another few years in my current role wouldn’t be bad. Life as the heir has been good. I can do what I want, when I want, and in the past, I’ve pushed against my boundaries, and yes, I’ve made more than a few mistakes. I’m a stupid man sometimes.
But I’ve grown, and it’s obvious that I need to step up.
Just like she stepped up for her father.
I admire that in her. I have to admit it. I admire a lot about her—
Like the way she kisses.
Fucking hell.
I planned on sealing our agreement with a peck on the cheek. Something chaste and appropriate to the moment. But then she turned into me and I was kissing her like I wanted to fuck her mouth into a cum-soaked oblivion.
I hadn’t expected it. And it only left me wanting more.
Which is not an ideal situation, given I have to keep my hands to myself for four months, and even then, I’m probably going to have to fuck my own fist.
Not the best start to my marriage, but fine, there’s only up from here.
I ring her bell. Emily answers, looking dazed. She’s dressed in a gray polo shirt and jeans with a little nametag shaped like a piece of bacon.
I narrow my eyes at the outfit. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Uh, Simon, I mean, I have work—”
I step forward, forcing her back inside. “Get changed.”
“No, I have a shift in fifteen minutes.” She crosses her arms. “This can wait until it’s done, okay? I have a few hours this afternoon—”
I stare at the ceiling. My god, this girl is beyond dense sometimes. “You don’t need to work anymore, topolina. Don’t you get that?”
Her jaw works, and she looks annoyed.
Fucking annoyed.
I’m giving her financial security and freedom, and the girl has the balls to look like I’m in the wrong here. What the hell is with her?
“I like working,” she says and sounds like she’s struggling to keep herself under control. “I’ve always had a job. Maybe I don’t need two anymore, but—”
“You can stay at Cucina Amore if you really have to. That’s one of my places and it’s always filled with my men, so that will be acceptable. Though I’ll have to come up with some excuse when my family criticizes me for letting my wife work as a waitress, which won’t be comfortable.”
Her mouth falls open, and that was obviously the wrong thing to say.
“I don’t give a crap what your snooty little family thinks of my profession.” She storms over and jabs a finger in my chest. It’s like a bee buzzing around with a dull stinger. Cute, but annoying. “I work hard because I have to. We’re not all born rich. I won’t be shamed for it.”
“I’m aware of that, baby.” I gently guide her wrist away. “But you’re also rich now, whether you like it or not.” She glares at me, and I glare right back. “None of this is relevant. Call your breakfast boss and tell him you’re not showing up because you’re getting married today.”
That finally gets her attention. She squirms away, putting some distance between us. Her lips open and she turns pale as what’s going to happen sinks in.
“We’re really doing this?” she asks, whispering.
“Ideally in the next half hour.” I check my watch. We’re already running late. “I have a priest waiting—”
“You have a priest waiting?” She throws up her hands. “Maybe you should’ve told me about this before booking a freaking priest.”
“He’s a family friend.” Which is a nice way of saying Father O’Shea takes a lot of bribes. “Don’t worry about him. He’s just there to make it legal.”
“There’s no ceremony?”