Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
When we drive through the heavy iron gates, I glance at my men who are on guard twenty-four-seven.
Like a Mediterranean villa, the mansion stands in the center of the property with perfectly trimmed gardens and water features.
Behind it, far enough away to give everyone breathing room, are the two smaller houses. Calling them cottages is bullshit because they're full-sized homes.
When Remo left to start a life with Valentina, everyone shuffled around. My parents traded the mansion for the house he’d been living in, and I took over the main residence while Big Ricky and Tiny settled into my old place.
Little Ricky now gets to live alone in the apartment above the garages.
After he parks the SUV and we get out, he says, “I’m gonna say hi to Pop. Call me if you need anything.”
I nod, and while he heads to his father’s place, I follow the cobbled path to my front door.
Letting myself in, I roll my shoulders to get rid of some of the stiffness. The lights switch on as I move toward the living room, and after I pour myself a tumbler of bourbon, I glance up at the old tree that’s visible through the glass ceiling.
Last year one of the branches fell on the roof, and we contemplated taking the tree down, but Mom wouldn’t hear of it.
My parents got married by the tree, and it holds a sentimental spot in my mother’s heart.
Instead, we had support beams installed to help carry the weight of the branches.
As I sip on my drink, my thoughts get stuck on my parents' wedding. Dad forced Mom to marry him, and somehow she fell in love with him afterward. Honestly, theirs is one of the happiest relationships I’ve ever seen.
I could do the same with Laurie. Marry her first, then we’d have the rest of our lives to get to know each other.
It worked for my parents, so I see no reason it won’t work for me.
After taking the last sip of bourbon, I set the tumbler down and head upstairs to my bedroom. While I strip out of my clothes and take a shower, I can’t stop thinking about making Laurie my wife.
There’s only one problem. Laurie isn’t from the Cosa Nostra. She’s a regular person who believes she has rights, and I’m not sure how I feel about coercing her at gunpoint to marry me.
By the time I climb into bed, I’ve made up my mind that I’m going to force her into a marriage. I just need to figure out how to go about it so I don’t traumatize her too much.
The corner of my mouth lifts.
I really like the idea of catching my little butterfly and making her mine.
Will she look at me with fear or fascination?
Will she beg or fight?
I can’t wait to find out.
Chapter 6
Laurie
Last night I sat in a booth at a diner that’s open twenty-four hours. I could only afford one cup of coffee, but luckily for me, the staff didn’t ask me to leave.
I caught them giving me pity glances several times, and the waitress even refilled my coffee for free and brought me a slice of pie.
As much as I appreciate it, I feel miserable and hopeless.
Yesterday, I went to see the owner of the room I wanted to rent. I asked her if she would let me stay there for a week while I figured things out, but she got angry and told me to stop wasting her time and take a hike.
The wheels of my suitcase aren’t going to last much longer as I drag the bag behind me while I walk from business to business in the hopes of getting a job.
When I get shown the door for the umpteenth time today, my heart sinks to my feet and desperation claws at my throat.
I’m screwed! God, this can’t be happening to me.
How am I homeless and jobless?
I dig my phone out of my handbag and contemplate begging my family for help. Or even Elise.
As I stare at the black screen, I can’t bring myself to type the desperate messages.
“We’re going to be late for the audition!” someone suddenly says near me, her voice filled with excitement.
I glance at the two women as they rush past me. They’re dressed like they’re ready for a night out on the town.
“I heard you can make up to ten thousand on a Friday or Saturday from tips alone, and if there’s a private party, that can easily jump to twenty grand. That’s how Charlene paid for law school.”
Holy shit, that’s a lot.
The mention of money has my ears perking up, and when I see them heading toward the club on the corner, I realize I’m not far from Mitchell’s Construction.
“Girl, I’d fuck the wrinkliest old man alive for that kind of money,” the other woman says.