Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 66962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 335(@200wpm)___ 268(@250wpm)___ 223(@300wpm)
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak.
“I spent most of the first ten years of my life in a little Italian village called Vetresca. I was completely sheltered from the family business. My father spent most of his time in New York, but he sequestered my mother, me, and my brothers in my mother’s home village to keep us safe. We had a huge house. We were clearly the wealthiest people there, but when I was little, that didn’t matter. We played with the children in the village and went to school with them. Things were… good.”
“You were happy there.” I could hear it in his voice.
“I was. Those are my best memories. Then my grandfather died, and my father became the head of the family. He could no longer keep us hidden. He needed us to be by his side as a show of strength. He brought my oldest brother in first, then he started introducing me and my younger brother to various aspects of the business. Not just the nice ones like the money, the cars, and the luxuries, the ugly ones too: death, torture, things no young boy should ever see.”
I hated the haunted look in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, I was too.”
16
CARLO
I took a steadying breath. I couldn’t talk about the past anymore. Not now. “I should bring you some soup.”
“You really don’t have to stay here.”
“I’m not leaving you alone when you’re this sick.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I laid my hand against his forehead. “You’re still burning up. Let’s find out how high your fever is before you eat.”
“It’s not as high as it was when… Never mind. I know I’m not really going to die.”
I didn’t speak as I walked back into the kitchen to get the thermometer. What the hell had he been through? Something horrible. Something worse than what I’d seen, worse than the things my father had done, what I was sure my brothers had done?
I didn’t want to think about what that was.
When I stepped out of the kitchen, Blade was sitting up. The fact that he was holding on to the arm of the couch like it was the only thing keeping him upright assured me he wasn’t going anywhere quickly.
When I got close, he snatched the thermometer from my hand and took the reading himself. His eyes widened when he read it. It was beeping and flashing red. One hundred and three point one.
“Lie down before you pass out.”
“You wanted me to eat.”
“Yes, but I want you to rest while I heat it up. I’ll bring it to you when it’s ready. I even put a bendy straw in your water so you don’t need to sit up to drink it.”
He stared at the water like he hadn’t seen it before. How bad off was he? Should I insist on taking him to a doctor?
“You gave me a bendy straw?”
I smiled at the softness in his voice. “I did. I found them at the house. Jacob probably got them for Grant.”
He snorted a laugh. “I’d like to see that.”
“If you rest, drink water, and listen to me, maybe you’ll get well first, and then you can.”
He laid back down clutching the water bottle as he sipped from it. I returned to the kitchen and ladled soup into a pot—the only one in his cabinet. Apparently, he was a minimalist, not that it surprised me.
I set it on his two-burner stove and turned the heat on. I could have microwaved it faster, but I imagined what my nonna would think of that. I always felt like things stayed hot longer if they were heated on the stove. Whether that was true or not, I was going to take the extra time.
While it heated, I stirred up a batch of Nonna’s cold remedy. It looked revolting, but it didn’t taste too bad, and it never failed.
When the soup was hot, I ladled it into the only two bowls in his kitchen. I figured I better eat too since I had no intention of leaving him alone with his fever so high. I opened a sleeve of crackers and placed some on a plate then got myself some water and carried it all into the living room using a battered cookie sheet as a tray.
“Blade?” He was snoring softly. I hated to wake him again, but he needed to eat.
His eyes blinked open, and he smiled at me. My heart fluttered, but he quickly replaced the expression with a scowl.
“I’m not hungry. I haven’t been since I got sick.”
“At least you admit you’re sick now.”
“I’m sick, but I don’t need a babysitter.” He was damn wrong about that.
“You’re getting one anyway.”
“I can’t rest with you bothering—” A coughing fit cut off his words.
“You need some medicine, and you shouldn’t take it on an empty stomach. You also need something to keep your strength up.”