Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84442 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Riley swallows nervously out of the corner of my eye. My hand instinctively reaches beneath the table to give her a reassuring squeeze.
My mother can be… intimidating, to put it kindly. She’s brusque and stern in a way that makes most people cower at a single word, never quite soft even when she’s totally relaxed. I get the sharper edges of my personality from her, but I could never hope to measure up to her level of unwavering control.
“Ma, you know very well that you were the one who insisted that she come.” I remind her, watching her smile twist into a knowing smirk as she nods her head. “But… I do want Riley to know about the family and I was hoping you would be okay explaining everything. She’s important to me.”
Bruno stiffens at my words, as I meet his gaze. My lips twitch slightly before they curl into a full-blown smirk. He wanted to force my hand, so I’m going to show him what happens when he pushes me. I’ll go somewhere, but it’s not going to be in the direction he wants.
If my mother approves of her, there’s nothing he can do to change the situation.
My mother’s ruling is final and he damn well knows that.
Riley shifts uncomfortably beside me as silence falls like lead, heavy over the entire room. Ma arches an elegantly groomed brow, drumming her manicured nails over the tablecloth as she drags her eyes over Riley, obviously sizing her up.
Could I tell Riley myself? Yes. But that isn’t how things are done in our family. Ma’s the head of the household, and things like that have to have her approval.
Ma pushes up from her chair, the pearls around her neck glimmering softly in the light from the chandelier overhead. She’s dressed to the nines, as always, in a silky cream button down tucked into tailored slacks, along with heels that give her a slight boost.
“Very well. You boys can stay here and chat,” she says breezily, her lips curling up in the barest hint of a smile—which is about as welcoming as she gets with strangers. “Riley, join me in the parlor, would you?”
Riley stumbles for words, glancing between me and my mother in nervous confusion. “Right. Yes, ma’am.”
“Ask her anything,” I tell Riley, squeezing her hand one last time before letting go so she can stand. “She’ll tell you the truth.”
Ma flicks her eyes over to me in cool amusement, but we both know it’s true. She’ll do damn near anything I ask of her, and she trusts my judgement.
I’m also her favorite, although neither of us will say so out loud.
“We have a lot to discuss, Riley,” Ma says, rounding the table and gesturing toward the doorway. “Would you care for some more wine?”
Their voices fade away as they leave the dining room and make their way down the hallway toward the parlor room, leaving me alone with my brothers.
Anxiety prickles at the back of my mind in a way I’m not used to as I listen to the click of their heels grow softer. The parlor is both soundproof and halfway across the house, so I won’t be able to hear any of their conversation. I don’t open myself up like this to anyone, and while I’ve already come around to the fact that I care about Riley far more than anyone I’ve ever met before, that doesn’t mean I’m comfortable introducing her to the darkest parts of my life.
I have no control over what she asks or what she wants to know, and I have no control over what Ma will tell her, either.
Lucy D’Amico is in charge in this house, in this family, and she always has been, even when Dad was alive.
If she decides to tell Riley the truth like I asked her to, I have no idea how Riley is going to react. I’ll just have to deal with it as it comes.
“Mommy’s boy,” Bruno says with a snort when we can no longer hear anything from down the hall.
Of course he’s going to start in on me again. God forbid we have a single moment of kinship between us.
“Bruce, can you not?” Marcus asks, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration.
“Calling it like I see it,” Bruno says with a shrug. “Not so big and bad in front of Mommy Dearest, are you?”
I breathe out sharply through my nose, clenching my hands into fists beneath the table, careful to keep my posture loose and carefree where my brother can see it.
“Just because I don’t respect you doesn’t mean I don’t respect Ma,” I drawl with a bored arch of my brow.
Bruno’s scarred face goes a mottled red with embarrassment, and he sneers at me, crossing beefy arms over his chest.
“If you respected any of us, you wouldn’t be running away from your fucking duties, kid. Your little fortune isn’t worth shit when no one is scared of the D’Amico name anymore.” He leans forward, fingers clenched tight on the edge of the table, eyes laced with anger. “We used to be something, Nick. People respected us. They feared us. And you threw it all away to go run a fucking investment firm.”