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)
His expression darkens as he looks away. “That was Angelo again. I didn’t like it. I hate the idea of letting my men die for me, but it worked out. We killed an important enemy and a dozen of his men.”
A strange shiver runs down my spine. Adam. Poor fucking Adam. Did he deserve what happened to him? Should I feel guilty for selling him out to his enemies? If Laura hadn’t been in the room, I would’ve been happy to let him murder every Bianco available. But I couldn’t risk it. I had to tell Angelo, I had to warn him. Adam wouldn’t listen when I asked him to stand down.
Guilt seethes in me. I think I’ll always feel it. If I could go back, I’d make the same decision a thousand times over—because I made it for her. But I’ll always feel like I betrayed him, and I’ll have to find a way to live with that.
“All I care about is your sister. I didn’t do it for you.”
“I know that. Which is actually better. I wouldn’t respect you if you sold out your associates for any other reason.”
“Who else was with him?” I think of Valentina in her mask. I think of Ronan, Dusan, and Julien. I haven’t heard from any of them since the attack, but I also haven’t tried to reach them.
“Nobody, aside from the Jankowski soldiers.” His eyes narrow and he studies me. “Should there have been someone else?”
I cross my arms. “Doesn’t matter.”
Silence lingers between us. I can tell he doesn’t like that answer. But fuck him. I don’t owe the Biancos anything else.
Simon must decide it isn’t worth pushing me over and turns away. He looks at the stairs. “I’m here to offer you a deal.”
“What’s that?”
“Neutrality.”
I follow his gaze, and a part of me thinks I can see Laura’s shadow cast on the wall at the bottom of the steps. “How’s that supposed to work?”
“You are not going to be a member of my Famiglia. But I also can’t have you opposing us, not if you’re with my sister. In order to keep everyone happy, I’m offering you neutrality. You can remain in the city, date Laura, and work for various factions. But you may not do work that goes against my interests.”
I study Simon, and I can see Bianco power in everything he’s saying. This man truly believes that he can control everything I do simply because that’s his birthright. I despise him, and everything he stands for, but I love Laura just as much, and those two feelings war deep inside my body.
“Neutrality,” I say quietly. “It’s not a bad idea. But do you expect me to check with you first before taking work? How exactly do you plan on enforcing this deal?”
He waves a hand in the air. “Use your discretion.”
“That’s a lot of trust from the Don of the Biancos.”
“Yeah, well, I love my fucking sister, and I want her to be happy.” He makes a disgusted face. “Somehow, you give her that.”
“I have to talk it over with her first.”
“Fine. I don’t care.”
“And I won’t live here.”
“That’s probably for the best.”
“Which means you’ll have to let Laura make her own decisions from now on.”
He stares at me, cool and angry. “That’s not your place.”
“Actually, it is.” I move toward him. “No more trying to micromanage her. No more controlling bullshit. She does what she wants, and you have no say in it anymore.”
His jaw works. “I was looking out for her. My sister—”
“Your sister is smart. She can handle herself.”
He rolls his eyes and starts walking to the steps. “Don’t worry, Marco. I wasn’t going to get between the two of you again. I learned my fucking lesson already.”
He reaches the steps, and I speak up before he’s gone. I’m not sure when I’ll see him again. I hope it’s never.
“I’m going to marry her.” He pauses and looks back, but he doesn’t seem surprised. “I’m not asking for your blessing. I’m just stating a fact.”
“You better marry her,” he says, and unless I knew better, I might think he’s fighting back a smile. “You’d be stupid not to.”
Then he’s gone. I watch him go, processing that discussion. I don’t love the way it went—his insistence on neutrality, his arrogance and condescension—but he’s going to leave us alone. Which means she’s free to make her own decisions.
I head upstairs. I find her in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, a big mug cradled in both hands. I remember I left mine on the workbench but decide to get it later. Instead, I walk over to her, lean in, and kiss her gently.
“Did you and Simon get along?” she asks.
“Nobody’s dead. I’d say that’s as good as it’s getting.”
“Perfect.” She looks at me through her lashes. I swear, she seems five years younger, and a thousand times lighter. “Well?”