Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Finally, Matteo’s eyes drop to his feet. He rarely caves, but when it comes to denying our mother’s influence in our lives and the values she instilled in us before her death, he has nothing left to keep his chin held high.
Confident he’s got control of the situation, Giovanni closes the door, assists Elio to his seat before he collapses, then helms the impromptu family meeting as the eldest always does. “Now let’s discuss this like men, as we should have when you believed Valeria’s bullshit claims about Valentina instigating the IVF mishap.” His eyes float over the room before they land on me. “What’s your gut telling you?”
“She’s scared…” I shoot my eyes to Matteo when he arches an accusing brow. “Not because the Cordozas spent more time feeding their prostitutes drugs instead of food. More that she’s afraid of commitment.” My next words come out a little slower. “And not earning enough money.”
Elio finally stops thinking the worst of Lucia. “The bulk of her inquiries when she contacted the brothels was how she could earn a thousand a night without having contact with the clients. She even offered to change cum-stained sheets.” He locks his eyes with me. “It was obvious that thirty thousand a month was her sole goal.”
My jaw quivers when Matteo can’t keep his big mouth shut. “She could charge that for one night if placed with the right pimp. Did you see her tits—”
Giovanni silences him before I can, but he aims his fist at his ribs, smirking when he hears a familiar crack.
Matteo only smiles, loving that he sparked a reaction out of him.
Psychopath.
“I’m just saying, if it’s solely about money, and she could charge 30K a night, why wouldn’t she?” Matteo smiles with blood-stained teeth. “I’m on your fucking side, dipshit.”
“Finally,” I murmur, glaring.
“He could have left his admiration of her tits out of his comment, but he isn’t wrong,” Nico says, finally speaking up. “She could charge 30K a night. The fact she doesn’t, even though that’s her goal, proves her payments to Edoardo aren’t his share of the profits. It has to be something else.”
The room goes silent for a few seconds before Giovanni asks, “Has she mentioned any family members? Sisters? Mother? An aunt?”
I move my head side to side before it tapers to a nod. “She mentioned her father. It wasn’t in a favorable light.”
The reason I’m fighting tooth and nail for equality in the Cosa Nostra slams into me when Giovanni asks, “Could her father have sold her to Edoardo?” When I glare at him, air whizzes from his nose. “I’m not saying I agree with those archaic practices we’re endeavoring to end. I’m merely asking if it is possible.”
“It’s possible,” I murmur through a stiff jaw. I’ve had over a dozen marriage proposals since news of Camille’s existence spread through the mafia realm. People will do anything to attach themselves to the Caruso name. They’ll even offer their firstborn son if it guarantees he’ll marry into the Caruso family. “If he purchased her, and she didn’t follow the agreement as arranged between Edoardo and her father, someone like Edoardo would demand a refund. He talks a big game, but we know he’s only one step away from bankruptcy.”
“If Lucia’s father were in the same boat, he may not have been in a position to give him a refund.”
I hum, agreeing with Nico.
“Then I guess it’s settled.” Giovanni locks eyes with Elio. “Make some inquiries—”
“But keep them discreet,” Matteo interjects. “Men with small dicks have fragile egos. If this is a case of Lucia denying Edoardo’s marriage proposal, and he grows worried his enemies will find out about it, he could react badly.”
Giovanni nods, approving his viewpoint, before he shifts on his feet to face me. “I placed extra security on Lucia’s building last night. They’ll stay until you tell me you want them to go.”
I smile in gratitude.
It turns blinding when he slaps my shoulder before he pulls me in to whisper in my ear. “They followed her to an all-night diner this morning. I forwarded you the address twenty minutes ago.” He ruffles my hair like he’s not three inches shorter than me. “Go on. I’ll take it from here.” My lips don’t even get to part before he silences an objection I’m about to give. “I hear the crepes at Caffè del Sole are the best in Carlisle. Since you kept me from my favorite dessert all night, I anticipate you enjoying the Nutella crepes with strawberries and bananas long enough to fix the injustice.”
Giovanni calls Valentina sweetness because she is the sweetest dessert he’s ever tasted.
He reaches for his gun when I hold my hands in the air nondefensively while saying, “I offer no guarantees.”
I don’t know if he draws his gun. I’m too busy bolting back to the dining room to see if my daughter is ready for a second helping of breakfast.