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)
I remember a time when life was bleak. It wasn’t that long ago. My dad was deep in debt and I was working two awful jobs just to keep us both afloat, and I had no hope. There was no reason to look forward to the next day knowing it would only be more toil for nothing. I was pushing that boulder up the mountain knowing it would only roll down again and I’d have to start all over. I kept going, one foot in front of the other, but I never lifted my head up to look around.
Now I’m out of the cycle. I can see the trees, the river, the world all around. Simon makes it brighter. And maybe we’re hiding in this apartment because there are people who want to hurt us, but all of that feels so distant. I’m completely zoned into him, completely enamored with the way he moves all sleek and lithe, with the way he watches me with a hunger in his eyes.
It’s too good and I know it won’t last. Which is why I’m not surprised when he comes back from yet another phone call later that morning, sits down at the kitchen table across from me, and looks like he’s about to deliver a cancer diagnosis.
“Three men broke into a strip club my father runs last night, stole all the cash from a safe, killed one of the bouncers, and torched the place. Across town, a deli that’s associated with our organization got its windows smashed in. Not far from there, three men jumped one of our low-level soldiers and beat him bad enough to put him in the hospital, and I’m not sure he’ll ever come back out. This all happened within a few hours.”
I sip my coffee and try to gather my thoughts but I’m flushed with conflicting feelings. Why is he telling me all this? Why is he letting the outside world encroach on what we have? I want to pretend like there’s nothing past the front door. We have money, we have a roof over our heads, and that’s more than enough.
“I want you to go stay with your father,” he tells me.
I don’t know what to say. I feel like I was just kicked in the face and all my teeth are on the floor. I clear my throat, drink more coffee and shake my head. “Absolutely not.”
“It’ll be safer for you there,” he says very softly, almost too gently, like he’s afraid of scaring me. “This Santoro thing is heating up and my dad still wants you dead. I can’t handle both of these problems while also worrying about you.”
I could almost laugh. “Why do you think I’d be safer there with my dad?”
“I’d be able to post a bunch of guards on the two of you. I’d know where you were and I wouldn’t have to worry.”
“You’d know where I was if I was with you,” I point out since that’s an absurd reason to send me away. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He looks frustrated. “I know it isn’t ideal, but I have to start going out into the world again.”
I spread my hands and force myself not to cry. I want to beg him to stay. I want to ask, do you, do you really? But I know how selfish that would be.
His family needs him. Davide, Elena, Stefania, even Freddie and Laura, they all need him, and I can’t keep him hidden away in here forever just because I’m afraid of letting him go.
Worse, he’d resent me if I did it.
But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to. I have this stupid dream where we slip away and go live in some little English village and we’d never have to worry about anything again. Except that’s my dream, not his, and the terrible part is he might actually go with me if I try to convince him.
And I won’t do it. I can’t do it. Even if I want to.
“Then I’ll come with you,” I tell him, straightening my spine and putting on a brave face. “I’m your wife, right? We can present a united front. Show people that we’re not afraid.” Even though I’m absolutely terrified.
“Emily—”
“I mean it,” I say before he can talk sense into me. “We’re just starting this thing between us, it’s finally starting to feel right, and I don’t want to lose that. I’m not walking away from you, Simon.”
He closes his eyes and rubs his forehead, but I can tell he’s softening. I know him well enough to see the way he’s tilting his head from side to side like he’s considering it against his own better judgement, and he finally grunts with frustration.
“You do what I say.” He points a finger at me. “And I mean that. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to flap your wings and quack like a duck, you’d better become an aquatic bird. Got me?”