Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I lean against the counter, waiting. I wish she would just spit it out already so I can go on with my day.
She coughs once, clearing her throat.
Be careful what you wish for.
“You keep staring at that girl, and we are going to have a problem, Enzo.”
My shoulders tense. Just slightly. But enough for her to notice because she always notices.
“What girl?” I ask, but it comes out more like a deadpan because with my mother, I’m a terrible liar and an even worse actor. With everyone else, I’m fantastic, but Mom is my kryptonite.
She gives me a look that is so sharp it could slice through bone. “I didn’t raise an idiot. Don’t pretend to be one now.”
I lean back harder, crossing my arms like that might protect me. “What if I am?”
She slams the dough against the marble, the crack echoing through the room. “Then you’re being reckless.”
There’s a long beat. The only sound in the air is the dough being rolled and turned.
Actually, if you strain real hard, you can hear the hum of the refrigerator, but other than that, you could drop a pin, and it would echo.
My heartbeat pounds in my chest.
“If someone else notices,” she continues, voice tightening as she punches the dough, over and over again, “we’re both gone. Out. No job. No place to go. No second chances. You understand?”
I nod, jaw tight. “So we just pretend nothing’s happening? Pretend I don’t feel—”
“Yes.” She cuts in sharply, finally lifting her gaze.
Her eyes land on mine with a force that makes my back go ramrod straight.
“That’s exactly what you do. Because this isn’t a fairy tale, Lorenzo. And you’re not a prince.”
That lands hard. Too hard. Like a fist between the ribs.
I swallow the hurt down, but I swear it feels like I’ve just consumed needles by how hard it burns.
Then I ask quietly, “Why can’t we just go home?”
Her brows tighten. A small movement, but a tell, nonetheless, and certainly big enough for me to notice.
She looks away, wiping her hands on a towel that’s already clean. “It’s not that simple,”.
“Why?” I push, taking a step toward her.
She grabs a bowl from the cabinet with more force than necessary. “Because it isn’t.”
I wait for her to say more, but she doesn’t give me anything else.
I file the silence away. Add it to the growing list of secrets we pretend aren’t secrets.
Another thing to unpack later.
For now, I’ll concentrate on getting my work done, because despite what my mother says, I have no intention of staying away from Victoria.
An hour later, I do what I always do when I can’t get her out of my head. Which is every night. Every hour. Every damn breath.
I find the worn copy of Wuthering Heights that she’s been reading in the library, and slide a note and pebble inside.
Same time.
I don’t sign it. There’s no need. She knows it’s from me.
The rest of the day, I keep my head down.
Ever since I walked past Mr. Danforth’s office and heard him call me a fucking idiot, and then saying my mother wasn’t good enough to work in his house, I’ve needed a distraction so I don’t kill the man.
I fix a busted pipe under the main sink. Oil a squeaky hinge in the foyer closet.
Reattach a loose banister rail that’s been threatening to send someone to the ER . . .
I pretend everything is normal.
Then I see her, and two things happen after that…
One: I’m no longer thinking of gutting Victoria’s father.
Two: She’s the only thought I’m now able to have.
I pretend I’m not thinking of her smile, her mouth, her laugh that hits me underneath my ribs like a fishhook.
But mentally, I’m like a ticking time bomb. Waiting.
And by midnight, I’m already at the meet spot.
She steps into the hallway with that same spark in her eyes, and it makes my pulse accelerate.
She’s the match, and I’m the gasoline.
“Come on,” she whispers, grabbing my hand before I can say a word. “I want to show you something.”
“Can you give me a hint?” I tease, letting her pull me along. “Or are we playing hide-and-seek?”
She squeezes my fingers, smirking over her shoulder. “It’s better if I show you.”
Her steps are faster than normal, which excites me.
We sneak past the grand stairwell. Up two levels. Down a narrow hallway.
She leads me into a corner of the house I’ve never seen. Which says a lot, since I was sure I’d seen everything in this place. Guess not.
She pushes aside an antique mirror. It’s the biggest mirror I’ve ever seen.
It flings over easily despite its size. My eyes go wider when I see what’s behind it. There’s a small wooden door.
She pulls out a key from her pocket—silver and old—and slips it into the lock.
“Victoria,” I whisper, leaning close, my breath ghosting her ear. “Are you about to murder me in a hidden hallway?”