Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38670 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 193(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
We never shared pertinent information in any program that could easily be hacked. Instead, Marco had a network of servers in one of our office buildings that we could remotely access to store and share files.
I logged in and skimmed the basics, then set it aside to read more thoroughly later when I didn’t have Vivienne waiting on me. I didn’t want to return to her in a fucking shitty mood after reading about her pathetic parents and spineless ex.
My phone vibrated in my pocket, and when I checked it, I saw a message from Aston. Charles had come through. I let him know I’d look it over after Vivienne went to bed, then navigated to my contacts and called Leonardo De Angelis. Leo was my caporegime, or captain, for the Georgia branch. He oversaw our crew, dealing with the details I didn’t have time for.
“Boss,” he murmured when he picked up.
“I need you to put some soldiers on shadow duty. But tell them not to be subtle about it.”
“You’re looking to draw their attention?” he clarified.
“Sì. Make sure they know who the fuck I am and how to contact me.”
“Good as done. I’ll put Alec and Dante on it.”
“Excellent. I’ll text the target’s information to you as soon as we hang up,” I told him.
“Bene. Ciao.”
“Ciao.”
I did as promised, then made a couple of other quick calls before tucking my phone away in my pocket just as Dario rapped on the partially open door.
“Sì?”
“Domenico had to stop your woman from poking around, so I put her in the solarium.”
“Bene. I’m going to give her a tour so she knows the areas to keep away from.”
“I didn’t realize she would be here long enough for that to be necessary,” Dario commented, struggling to sound casual in an attempt to hide his disapproval.
My eyes narrowed, seeing right through him. “Was I unclear when I told you she belonged to me, fratellino?”
“No. I just don’t understand how some woman is worth the extra attention the Family will get when the Chanlers start throwing a very loud, very dramatic fit over you stealing Chet’s fiancée.”
“Are you fucking questioning me, Dario?” My tone was hard, and my expression impassive, a sign that he was talking to the ruthless “King of the South,” rather than his brother. Not only did I not owe him an explanation but he was also overstepping, which wasn’t something I ever let slide.
He flinched and backed up a step. “No.”
“Good. Now get the fuck out of my sight until you remember your place and grow the fuck up.”
Dario hesitated, and I raised an eyebrow. I would never hurt my brother, but that didn’t mean he was above punishment for disobeying an order.
“Don’t push me,” I snarled.
He nodded jerkily and spun around, marching silently out of my office.
I was fucking infuriated and told myself I needed to get my shit together before I went to find Vivienne. However, to my surprise, just thinking about being with her soothed some of the churning in my blood, filtering out the violence that was pumping through my veins.
She calmed me, which fed my growing obsession with her. I knew I was becoming addicted, but even if there was a cure, I didn’t want it anywhere near me.
7
VIVIENNE
Indulging in a second cappuccino while chatting with Carmen was the perfect way to relax after finishing my breakfast. I’d only been in Rafa’s house for less than twelve hours, but I was more relaxed than I had been in two years. If I was brutally honest with myself, I also felt more at home here than I did in the house where I grew up. And more comfortable with Carmen than I was with my own parents.
They’d been different when I was a child—more emotionally available, though no one would ever describe them as warm and loving. However, as I got older, their attention turned to molding me into their vision of the perfect daughter. They saw the opportunity to use me as a tool to bring them more connections and respectability.
They’d never even bothered to ask about how Chet treated me. They chose to live in an oblivious bubble, assuming that once his ring was on my finger, my life was some kind of fairy tale. And they made it quite clear that I was expected to do whatever it took to keep him happy, like the good little trophy wife they’d raised me to be.
And even though I’d lost enough weight for my doctor to express concern, my mom and dad had never tried to tempt me into eating more. It had become increasingly clear that they were more concerned with their status in society than with my opinions or well-being. I’d hoped that maybe I was wrong, that if I finally worked up the nerve to tell them what Chet was really like, they would take my side. But a voice in my head kept warning me that I was only setting myself up for disappointment.