Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
I’m out of gas in ten minutes. We meet back toward the front, tossing our cans onto the floor. Not like anyone will wonder what happened here. Luca frowns, arms crossed.
“You know what’ll happen now, right?”
I flick open a Zippo. The flame glows softly in my hand. Vittorio watches it almost eagerly. He licks his lips, the crazy bastard.
“They’ll try to blame me.” I stare at the artworks. The investments of all the wealthy elites in the city. “But this is Demir’s fault. Gray Wolf was supposed to protect this place. They set up an impenetrable fortress, but they relied too much on technology. And technology can be disabled.”
“Should’ve used more guards.” Vittorio grins like a hungry vampire. “Then there would’ve been some blood.”
“Maybe you’re right,” Luca says, shaking his head and ignoring Vittorio. “But they’ll know it was you. You’re burning all your bridges, Adriano. Are you sure about this? You worked hard to ingratiate yourself with the rich fuckers by getting married. Now you’re turning it all into smoke.”
“I thought that’s what I wanted. A connection to high society. Political allies. Industry friends.” I step forward and toss the lighter. It spins in the air and hits the floor, bouncing slightly, before the flame catches some gasoline and the fire starts. “But now I realize all I want is Lucy.”
Row after row goes up as the fire spreads rapidly. We get out of there. Vittorio hangs back, watching the longest, but eventually the flames get too hot even for him. Smoke billows out as oil paintings hundreds of years old are destroyed. It’s a glorious hellscape, all that money getting incinerated. Elation runs through me, and I can’t help but grin like a maniac as we step out into the night together.
The warehouse burns.
Maybe the fire department will get here in time. Some of that priceless art could survive.
But I know what I’ve just done.
I declared war on the whole fucking city.
Let those rich bastards choose sides. Let them all turn against me if that’s what they want.
I’ll rip them to fucking shreds.
And in the end, Demir will kneel before me and beg for mercy.
I’ll show him nothing but pain and death.
Chapter 37
Lucy
Ispend the next few days viciously fucking Adriano every chance I get and making doctor’s appointments for myself. I ask him not to tell anyone about the baby yet—not until we’re past the first trimester at least—but he insists on letting Donatella in on our little secret. “She can help, just trust me,” he says.
And I’m happy I listened because Donatella reacts like we just promised her the cure for cancer is about to come sliding out of my uterus.
“I am so excited,” she gushes, squeezing me in a big, warm hug. “Oh, hon, I’m so proud! Another baby in this house? I truly can’t think of anything better.”
Life is strangely good. I know there are bad things happening outside in other parts of the city. I hear snippets of conversations and rumors, and I read the news. I know Adriano’s on the warpath. He comes home smelling like smoke and gasoline, his lips tasting like blood, and I don’t care.
I just want him.
Nothing pierces the bubble, at least until the doorbell rings in the middle of the afternoon one boring Tuesday. I figure it’s nothing special, but Donatella comes into the kitchen looking a little chagrined. “Your grandmother is here,” she announces. “I put her in the main sitting room.”
I stare like I don’t really know what she’s talking about. “Grandmother is here? Helena Willing-Morris just walked through the front door?”
“Yes, dear.”
“She’s in our sitting room?”
“Yes, right now. Do you want me to bring in tea?” Donatella fusses slightly. We’ve spoken about my complicated relationship with my grandmother on and off a little over the past couple of weeks. She’s likely aware of the shock I’m feeling.
“No, no, I mean, yes, please bring in tea.” I hurry to the nearest mirror and start adjusting my appearance. I’m in an old t-shirt and a pair of sweats. It’s the sort of outfit I never would’ve worn around my grandmother back when I was living at home. But ever since coming here, I’ve started to put on whatever I want, whenever I want to wear it because it’s my life. I get to make my own choices.
Now though, I can hear Grandmother in my head. A lady must always be prepared for company, Lucille. Change out of that ratty little outfit, please.
I almost do it too. I’ve been conditioned for so long to believe that my grandmother knows best for everything, but she doesn’t run my life anymore. She sold me to Adriano—the only good choice she ever made, honestly—and now I can make my own decisions. Even about something as inconsequential as what I like to wear.