Total pages in book: 157
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 154525 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 773(@200wpm)___ 618(@250wpm)___ 515(@300wpm)
Stomping up the steps, Frankie never looked back.
Good thing, because she would’ve hated to see the way her father glared at Nico as he came up alongside the Mustang with murder in his eyes.
“Nico,” Salvatore greeted.
“Sal,” he returned.
“Chicago didn’t treat you well enough to stay until tomorrow, or what?”
“I think we got our fill.”
“Mmhmm.” Salvatore drew in a deep breath and then exhaled slowly. Control; he sought it. “Three things. I have three things to say.”
“All right.”
“Did you notice the changes at the gate when you checked in?”
“I did,” Nico confirmed.
“It’ll remain that way until you’ve earned otherwise. You broke a few rules here, more than once. And as far as my daughter goes, any other boy interested in her doesn’t even get let inside the houses, so you already started way past the go-line, son.”
Nico drummed his fingers against the wheel. “What does that mean, exactly?”
“Well, it means you’re not staying in my guesthouse, as frankly, you don’t need to. You’re not welcome inside the main house unless I specifically invite you in. And as far as you’re allowed on the property without permission is this driveway. Your things, your vehicles, and whatever else, is yours the moment you ask for them, however you request them. Larkin will make it happen. Otherwise, like I said, you earn the right to have access to my home and property back by proving why I should allow it.”
“So, that’s one,” Nico mumbled, taking his consequences as he should. “What’s two?”
“Where the hell is your money?”
He glanced sideways at Sal through the opened window. “I don’t—”
“Your bank account? Drained. Where is it?”
“Like ten-k is in another bank. I used five to open a credit card because they wanted the security. I have thirty in cash to give to a contractor for work I want done at the Vauxhall house and the security system getting installed.”
“And the rest?” Salvatore asked.
Nico cleared his throat. “I uh, gave it to a buddy who paid for a painting of your dead wife’s for Frankie’s birthday present. He knew the guy who owned it from an old café. He wanted a lot to part with it, and to me, it was worth every penny.”
Salvatore blinked. And then he did it again. “What?”
Nico just shrugged. “Yeah. So, that’s where the money is. I’d appreciate it if you stayed the fuck out of my bank accounts, though. And my phone records, if you were looking at those lately.”
“I needed to know where my child was.”
“If she’s with me, she’s safe.”
“No, she’s not. Because you’re young, and you’re self-seeking and self-interested. Selfish. I know, because I was you once, Nico. And finally, the last thing,” the man uttered, glancing back at the house, “is about your father.”
Nico’s gaze locked in somewhere over the edge of his steering wheel, beyond the hood of the car. “What about him?”
“I don’t give a fuck how you deal with that man, but you keep him far away from my daughter. Whichever way you have to do it—lie, placate him, do anything he asks other than bring her over for dinner. I don’t care, Nico, you do it.”
“You’re terrified of him.”
“So are you,” Salvatore returned.
“Bet we both have good reasons, huh?” Nico asked.
19. — all the king’s men...
Staten Island, New York
Salvatore, Gallo Estate
Salvatore tried his best not to be annoyed at the scene unfolding down in his driveway just a few short hours after he’d laid out the new rules to Nico.
“It’s like they can’t fucking help themselves,” he muttered unhappily. “What, they can’t even be apart more than a few hours now? Absurd.”
Carina hummed where she stood beside him. “That’s love. First love is even worse. You remember what that felt like, don’t you? You don’t want to be apart; it hurts.”
As much as he hated to admit it, Carina hit the nail on head. Her hammer came down on him painfully.
She came to stand in front of Salvatore. Tilting her head back to stare up at him, he had no choice but to meet her gaze instead of continue watching the scene playing out in the front courtyard of his home. Her hand found his, and she pulled it to her stomach where his fingers splayed wide. The tension in his shoulders eased enough that it didn’t ache just to stand there.
“Does that help?” she asked him.
Salvatore shrugged one shoulder. “Some.”
Down below, three distinct voices carried up to them.
“Hi, I’m Carmen,” came the youngest voice.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“You’re Frankie, right?”
“That’s what everybody calls me.”
“She might have heard that you really like soccer,” Nico informed, a smile in his tone, “and guess who just started soccer summer camp...”
“No way,” Frankie said.
“Yep. Mama wanted me to do ballet, but...not as fun.”
“Soccer’s not always fun, either.”
“Better than tutus. Nico said you’re really good.”