Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
In his world, I suspect that means he has the power to crush companies, disappear board members, and use his connections to have assets frozen.
The Vitales have amassed a vast empire over generations, and by all outward appearances, their businesses are legitimate. But the Mafia plays by different rules, and I know from experience there are always gray areas.
Cristian keeps an office downtown, and he also oversees the management of a Vitale-owned nightclub. From what I can gather, something big is taking place there this weekend.
I’ve only been to Eden After Dark once with Mariella for a quick drink, but it caters more toward invite-only clientele.
Deciding it’s best that I don’t know what’s going on, I tune out the rest of the conversation.
Veronica returns to take my tray once I’m finished, announcing our imminent arrival to Black Stag Island. I’m surprised the forty-five-minute trip went so quickly, but I don’t know how long I was asleep before it started either.
When the boat docks, I realize I don’t have my shoes. As I’m about to get up and search for them, Cristian ends his call and turns to face me.
“You’re not walking on that.” He nods at my ankle.
“It’s fine,” I protest, sliding toward the edge of the lounge.
He takes a step closer, towering over me with that quiet dominance that makes my stomach somersault. Then, before I can launch another argument, he bends down and braces one arm behind my back and the other beneath my knees.
I let out an awkward yelp as he lifts me into his arms. The minimum amount of effort it took for him to do that is equally annoying and impressive.
I can’t imagine Marco ever even trying. The last time I hurt my ankle, he told me to walk it off, and when that didn’t work, he asked if he should get one of his staff to help me.
I guess Cristian is more of a hands-on problem solver. That thought spirals into how he handles other hands-on activities, and I shut it down quickly.
The last thing I need to be thinking about is Cristian’s virility as he carts me around like a caveman. His palm feels like a brand on my bare leg as it is, and neither of us can seem to look at each other. Our close proximity has reignited the same tension I felt as I clung to his body after my near fall, and I can only imagine he’d rather be doing anything else right now.
I’m grateful for the short distance to the SUV, because it means I won’t die holding my breath.
When he sets me onto the backseat and buckles me in, I sigh as if this is also the most torturous thing I’ve ever been through. Although, I suppose in some ways it is because I have no idea what to do with Cristian when he’s not tormenting me.
The stubborn part of me hopes he’ll send me off on my own and leave me to fend for myself, but he doesn’t. He takes the front passenger seat while one of the guards drives us to the Vitale estate.
Black Stag Island is one of those magical places that almost doesn’t feel real. When I first moved to the Pacific Northwest, I wasn’t sure I’d like it. But as it turns out, all those historical romances were right about the salt air. It is healing.
Over time, I grew to love the duality of the vibrant evergreens and the moody fog and rain. The island is a perfect encapsulation of that wild, mystical beauty. The landscape is raw and jagged in some places, and a lush, sun-drenched paradise in others.
That contrast doesn’t only lend itself to the terrain, but to the island itself. With one half being owned by the Vitales and the other by the Greeks, there’s a certain irony to the phrase “keep your enemies close.” In this case, they’re literal neighbors.
The Stavroses and the Vitales have a long history of bloodshed and a rivalry that seems to be inherited from birth. While the war between them is currently under a ceasefire, I suspect it’s far from over.
Both estates are beautiful in their own right, but as we pass through the porte-cochère, it’s Tenuta del Cervo Nero that has my heart. I don’t know if it’s because I’ve spent so much time here, but it almost feels like a second home. Or in my case, the family I always wanted.
The Mediterranean-style villa sits at the end of a long driveway dotted with Cyprus trees. It’s impossible not to appreciate its beauty every time it comes into view. The Italian-imported stone makes it look like a palace, carved through with Roman arches, marble balustrades, and columns wrapped in ivy.
It was built with the intention of being a multi-generational home for the Vitale descendants, with six wings connected by a central gathering space.