Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Adam studies Valentina. He says nothing, and it’s hard to tell, but I’m guessing that story just affected him. His mouth is pressed into a tight line and he takes a slow drink of his coffee.
“Ten years ago is when you and your father began your organization,” I say, drawing Adam’s attention back to me. “I wonder where you got that idea.”
The big man lets out a long, slow breath. “Yes, it’s true, my dziadek went into debt to the Italians, and yes, they took his life from him. That angered me and many of the other Polish men in my community, and we decided to band together. I don’t deny any of it.”
I glance at Valentina, and she gives me the slightest nods. I know exactly where this is going, and I swoop in for the kill. “We will get your grandfather’s restaurant back and return it to your family. If we can make that happen, I want your solemn word that you’ll join our alliance and help us push back against the Biancos.”
Adam goes still. His shoulders tense, and I’m not sure if I went too far. But slowly, he sinks further into the bench, and he tilts his chin upwards, looking at me through hooded eyes.
“You’re right that I’d do almost anything to bring that place back into my fold. I hate the Biancos, maybe more than you do. But I already said that I’m not a stupid man, and you were right earlier. The moment we step a toe out of line, the Biancos will come destroy us. So I’ll accept your terms, but only if all the others agree to join as well.” He turns his body and slides out from behind the table. When he gets to his feet, it’s like an ancient tree spreading its branches. “I’ll stand up to the Biancos. I’ll be happy to do it. But I won’t get my family killed for some reckless and worthless venture. Those are my terms.”
He walks away. I watch him go, impressed by that little speech. The guy sure as hell knows how to negotiate.
“I guess that’s it,” Valentina says, sounding chipper.
“Where’d you hear about that restaurant?” I glance back at her, slightly annoyed she kept me in the dark. I might’ve been able to negotiate better had I known.
“Dad told me about it.” She grins at me and shrugs. “What? He had files on every little clan and gang in the whole damn city. I actually read through the stuff, unlike you.”
I clench my jaw. She’s got a point there. I’ve been neglecting Luciano’s notes for a while now, but the guy’s got fucking terrible handwriting. Reading it gives me a headache.
“At least we have a plan. Get that restaurant back, somehow, and convince all the others, also somehow.”
“What would you do without me?” she asks and gets to her feet.
“Considering I’m subsidizing your lifestyle, I’d probably be rich at this point.”
She laughs and throws an arm around my shoulder. “Ah, come on, I earn my keep, boss.”
“Allegedly.”
Chapter 9
Laura
Ithrow myself into sculpting for the next couple of days. At some point, Angelo shows up with that list that I requested, and I toss the papers on my workbench, but I can’t bring myself to go through them.
Instead, I dump all my energy into completing two more sculptures in the next two months. I have nine more in the back yard, but dozens of smaller pieces I can sell at the next show, although I’d like to have more jackal ears. My life is hammer, chisel, dust, and sleep, with the occasional break for food.
Which is why it surprises the shit out of me when I turn around one evening to find Elena standing on my basement steps.
“What the hell?” I say, whirling around and brandishing my hammer.
She holds up her hands. “Laura, I was ringing your bell for like fifteen minutes. I knocked, I shouted, and I’ve been saying your name. You’re like in a trance.”
“I’m working.” I glare at her, although she’s right. I glance at the clock on the wall and realize three hours melted away without my noticing. This is what happens when I get deep into the zone: it’s like nothing but the work exists. Background noise melts away until my hands are my tools and the block of stone is begging to be released into its final shape.
It’s probably not healthy, this obsession, but it’s who I am.
“I just wanted to check in with you.” She glances around the basement and frowns at my work in progress. “That doesn’t look human.”
“It’s not.” I stand between her and the half-finished ear. “I’m fine. You can go.”
“Angelo told me you showed up at his house and asked about a show.” She comes down into the basement instead of out the front door, which is the opposite of what I wanted. I glance back at my work, already yearning to get lost in the flow again, but she’s not going to leave until we have a talk.