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)
“Would love to.” Rafe smirks in my direction. “Just say the word, and I’ll show her the time of her life—"
“Vaffanculo.” I level them both with my gaze.
Romeo looks annoyingly pleased with himself as he exchanges a glance with Rafe. I ignore them while I question my sanity.
Ten minutes ago, I was prepared to get Chantel situated and leave, like I should. Now I’ve lit the fuse to my destruction, because there’s no way this can end well.
Naturally, Chantel chooses that moment to appear at the end of the hall, staring at the scene before her in confusion. And of course, she’s wearing a cropped black tank top with the word Brat imprinted across the front and a matching pair of barely there shorts.
Rafe glances at her and shoots me another smirk before I threaten to cut his balls off in Italian. I swear to God my brothers were put on this earth to test me.
“Put this on.” I grab a throw blanket from the sofa and toss it at Chantel.
She looks like she wants to challenge me, but ultimately, she’s more concerned about the activity currently taking place in her living room. So she wraps the blanket around herself as her gaze moves between Romeo and Rafe.
“What’s going on?” she asks.
“We’re making your house more secure.”
A flush crawls down her throat as she shakes her head, predictably freaking out.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“Mariella and Abella will be here soon,” I tell her. “We’ll finish up while you eat breakfast.”
She doesn’t respond, and her avoidance isn’t unexpected after how vulnerable she was last night. But it makes me fucking itchy when she refuses to meet my gaze and focuses only on my brothers.
“What are you doing to my front door?” she asks Rafe.
“Replacing it with solid core steel.” He knocks on the surface. “Can’t get much more secure than that.”
“And what is all that?” She gestures vaguely at Romeo.
“It’s an alarm system,” he grunts. “Cristian will go over it with you when it’s set up.”
She frowns at that idea, and appears even less thrilled about accepting this kind of help. Fortunately, Mariella chooses that exact moment to arrive, offering her a distraction.
“I brought carbs and coffee.” She holds up two large bags as she walks through the door.
Rafe perks up. “What did Nonna send? I’m fucking starving.”
“Cornetti, Bomboloni, Crostata, fresh-baked bread, and of course, her homemade jam.” She laughs.
“Thank you, Nonna.” He groans in relief as he snatches the bags and carries them to the kitchen.
“Hey.” Mariella greets Chantel. “Nonna also sent you biscotti and pizzelles. She says they cure all ails.”
“So that’s what I’ve been doing wrong my whole life.” Chantel smiles.
“Oh, and this.” Mariella retrieves a small box from her pocket, handing it over. “She said you should use it right away.”
Chantel gives the box a curious glance before she unwraps it, and when she unveils the gift, something tightens in my chest.
I’m not the only one. Mariella lets out a soft sound of surprise before she and I exchange a look.
“What?” Chantel glances between us. “Am I missing something?”
I let Mariella take the lead on this one. I’m relieved when she omits the fact that Nonna has only ever reserved these gold necklaces for one specific purpose.
“It’s a cornicello,” she explains. “It protects from the evil eye.”
“I guess we’ll be twins,” Chantel muses, eyeing Mariella’s neck.
“I guess we will,” Mariella says. “You ready for coffee and a chat?”
Chantel nods, and they take a seat at the kitchen table, talking quietly amongst themselves as we continue to work.
When there’s another knock at the door, I expect it will be Angelo and Abella. But when I open it, I find Marco standing on the other side with two black eyes, a bent nose, and a mouth caked with dried blood.
He blinks slowly as he processes the fact that I’m inside Chantel’s house, which is somewhere he’s never been before. The wheels in his brain turn at a snail’s pace, and he doesn’t like where his thoughts are taking him.
I let him swim in that misery until he finally manages to string together a sentence.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he slurs through broken teeth.
“I was about to ask you the same thing.” I narrow my gaze at him, wondering why the fuck I didn’t finish what I started last night.
“This is my girlfriend’s house, in case you forgot.” He tries to barge past me, but I block his entrance.
“Not anymore.”
“Fuck you,” he spits. “This is between me and Chantel, and as far as I’m concerned, you’re dead to me.”
“You want to talk to her?” I shrug. “I’m the only thing standing in your way.”
He sizes me up, knowing he couldn’t take me on his best day. Then, like the coward he is, he starts calling for her over my shoulder.