Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
“Is this yours?” I ask.
“Pre-pregnancy,” she agrees. “That’s one of the perks of being a mafia wife, you can have all the clothes you ever dreamed of.”
“Sounds nice,” I observe.
“I have tons of clothes in my bedroom, but there are so many that I’ve also branched out to several other closets throughout the house. Don’t worry, Kyle didn’t have to disturb anyone to get it,” Marlena explains.
“Good,” I decide. I don’t know if Francisco Senior is up and about yet, but I definitely don’t want to interrupt his beauty sleep. There’s nothing in the world that’s more important than our complete recovery. Frankie and I got the worst of it, but I’m sure yesterday was no picnic for Francisco either.
Marlena and I are still talking when Frankie comes downstairs. He’s wearing another set of pajama bottoms, but his fit perfectly. I appreciate the fact that he’s chosen to remain shirtless. It gives me a full view of all the valuable assets he brings to the table. His chest is chiseled, though it bears the marks of the beating he took. I start thinking about the next time I can run my hands across it, even though it hasn’t been that long.
Frankie comes straight toward me, bending down to give me a good morning kiss. “That’s a great dress,” he says.
“Thanks,” I reply. “It’s Marlena’s.”
“I assumed,” he says. “How did you sleep?”
“Like the dead,” I tease.
Frankie doesn’t think that’s very funny. He wrinkles up his nose, only to discover that it still hurts. Wincing slightly, he goes straight to the coffee pot to pour himself a cup. He brings it back to the table, choosing to abstain from creamer just like me.
He links one hand with mine, as if we have been dating for a long time. The morning is nice and slow, just about the speed I’m prepared to move at the moment. The three of us talk until Frankie’s father joins us. I can feel my heartbeat quicken at the sight of him, not so much because I’m afraid, but because I still feel guilty for going through his stuff.
“Good morning,” I announce, standing up. I want to get ahead of this, to apologize before he says anything. But he cuts me off, making sure I know that all debts have been forgiven.
“Sit down,” he instructs, circling Marlena from behind with loving arms.
I sit back down, knowing instinctively that it would be best to follow his lead.
“I hope you’re feeling better,” Francisco says.
“Yes,” I agree. “Much.”
“Good,” he replies. “We rounded up some of Carlo Andretti’s men last night.”
“You were busy,” Frankie observes.
Francisco smiles, but there’s not a lot of joy in it. “It had to be done.”
“Does that mean we’re safe?” I ask.
“Yes,” Francisco confirms. “If there’s anyone left who’s loyal to Andretti, they won’t be coming after you.”
“Even though I killed him?” I ask in a small voice.
“Let’s just keep that between us,” Francisco suggests.
“I’d love that,” I respond gratefully.
Handing over responsibility for Andretti’s death is a wonderful relief. I’ll know what I did, and Frankie will know, but I agree it’s better for the public to think Francisco is the one who killed him. It makes more sense that way for both of us. He gets the accolades for finishing off his nemesis, and I don’t have to withstand the worst of anyone’s future revenge quest. It’s a win-win.
Francisco gets himself some coffee and has a seat. It’s almost like we’re a family, two couples enjoying breakfast together in a bright, open kitchen. What more could I ask for?
CHAPTER 43
FRANKIE
Weeks Later
It’s been a brutal two days, but I’m finally finished with the bar exam. I can’t believe how difficult it was. Not only the content but also the method of delivery is harsh. I’m not used to sitting in a room with a hundred other people, hunched over a desk with a number two pencil. I thought that kind of testing went out with the last millennium. But apparently, it’s a way of making sure that nobody cheats.
I had to give up my cell phone before I walked into the room, and only got it back at the end of the day. And now I’m seeing Scantron sheets dancing whenever I close my eyes, a remnant of the past if ever there was one.
I set my pencil down and feel a rush of satisfaction. I’m confident I did well. All that studying certainly paid off. Now all I have to do is wait for the test results, and I’ll be a fully licensed attorney.
I check out at the front desk and retrieve my phone. Checking messages, I see there are a few. I’m hardly paying attention to where I’m walking as I exit the building. I don’t see Sofia until I nearly stumble over her.
She’s sitting in the parking lot on the hood of my car. Gorgeous as ever, she’s wearing my driver’s hat. She looks adorable in the chauffeur’s crown, holding a sign like a dutiful employee waiting for me at the airport. The sign reads: Attorney Frankie Corello.