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)
Silence falls between us. For the first time, there’s an undercurrent of uncertainty, and I don’t want to let it fester. I take our dishes, put them in the kitchen, and return to her. She’s sitting on the couch staring at the window, and I drop to my knees, gently pulling her chin toward me.
I kiss her. I let her taste linger on my lips. “I want to let it go,” I whisper and kiss her again. I kiss from her chin to her neck. I mean it, God, I really mean it—I want to let it go so badly it’s like a muscle ache I can’t quite stretch out. I pull up her shirt and kiss her chest, lick her nipples. “This shit between our families, I’m going to let it go.”
“And then what?” she says, her breath coming faster. I kiss lower, moving toward her pussy. I love her body, her smooth skin, the swells of her hips and her gorgeous little mound. “I don’t think our families will let you.”
“We’ll find a way.” I spread her legs. I lick her, top to bottom. I’m not sure if I’m delusional or if I’m lying to myself, but I’m convinced that Laura’s my future. “I want to find a way with you, baby.”
“I want that too,” she whispers, breathing faster. “And not just because you’re going down on me.”
“Partly that though.” I kiss her again, and I lose myself in her noises and her taste, ready to set aside everything else for at least one more day.
Chapter 30
Marco
The Lilypad is a smoke-filled rat’s nest in a rundown neighborhood on the edge of Adam’s territory. It’s the perfect place for a meeting: secluded, private, and surrounded by soldiers. I’m also pretty sure sitting in this booth is going to give me tetanus. Which means it’s my kind of bar.
I’m jammed in next to Ronan and Julien, while Adam and Dusan are on the opposite side. Everyone’s got a glass of the place’s best liquor, which is some form of whiskey that tastes like gasoline. The room is empty aside from the bartender, an older man who seems to be either deaf or partially deaf, since Adam had to yell our order at him before the guy finally responded.
“I appreciate you all coming out here,” Adam says, looking at the assembled faces. Ronan’s aloof and bored like always; Julien sips at his drink and shows nothing; Dusan seems like he’d rather be anywhere else. I’m caught in some strange in-between point, wondering what Laura’s doing back at her place, while also planning how I’m going to destroy her family.
It doesn’t feel good. I hate being torn in half like this. For so long, breaking the Biancos’ stranglehold on Chicago’s underworld has been my dream and my only real goal, and right now I’m closer to achieving that than I’ve ever been. Adam’s passionately on board, which means Dusan and Julien can easily be convinced with a little pushing. And yet I feel myself drifting away, like I’ve been split right down the middle and my two halves are trying to get as far away from each other as possible.
“Next time, we’re meeting in one of my restaurants,” Julien says with a distasteful frown at the surroundings: chipped wood, peeling wallpaper, yellowing drop ceiling. “That way we can have a decent meal instead of—” He gestures around. “Whatever this is.”
“Noted,” Adam says, clearly not interested in whatever Julien’s trying to do. “At this point, you all know how I feel and what I want to do.”
“You won’t shut up about it, and that’s saying something.” Dusan eyes Adam with a deep frown before looking over at me. “Seriously, Marco, he keeps calling me up and ranting about how the Bianco must be destroyed. He sounds like you.”
I raise my glass to him. “I guess Adam’s got more sense than I gave him credit for.”
Adam grunts in response. “They killed one of my men. They tried to kill me. They’ll try again eventually. This is simple self-preservation.”
“They tried to kill you,” Dusan says and leans back to study the big Polish mobster. “But meanwhile, they have left me and my family alone. Why would I want to get drawn into this?”
Ronan makes an exasperated noise. “Are we really going to go over all this again? I swear, it’s fucking Groundhog Day with you people.” He sits up straighter and starts talking with a comical Italian accent, which I’m pretty sure is meant to mimic me. I’m not happy about the caricature. “The Biancos, they-a gonna kill us all, they-a gonna take over the city and shoot us in the stinking faces, if-a we don’t get together and fight-a them, eh? Or something like that, I don’t know, I tune all this shit out most of the time.”