Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 431(@200wpm)___ 345(@250wpm)___ 287(@300wpm)
“Sorry, what?” I tug on my seatbelt. “Is something wrong?”
“We’re being followed.”
The driver slams on the gas suddenly. I yelp in surprise as he blows through a yellow light and swings down a side street. We drive fast, recklessly fast, ripping across several stop signs. I grip the door and put a hand over my mouth to keep myself from screaming as he takes another wild turn, tires screaming, and abruptly slows to a more reasonable pace.
I look out the back window. My heart’s racing through my throat. Both men seem totally calm, and they’re talking very quietly. I can’t hear anything over the pounding in my ears.
“Seems that we lost them, ma’am.” The guard offers me a thin smile. “Sorry to disturb you, but we’ll have you home shortly.”
“I’m sorry, but who was following us?”
“I can’t say, ma’am.”
He stops talking there, and I feel sick.
I’m not even sure what the hell happened when I’m dropped off back at the house. Stellan’s gone, or else I’d tell him immediately. Instead, I hurry up the steps, afraid of what I’ll find when I poke my head into Gem’s room.
She’s sitting at her desk, a bunch of books open around her. She doesn’t even notice that I’m there. She’s scribbling in a notebook and chewing on an old eraser, her hair down and curly, fuzzy slippers on her feet.
And all at once, I manage to calm down.
This is the reason I’m here. Gem’s my guiding light. I don’t know who was following us, but it doesn’t matter.
I have to keep going.
And I have to carry it all myself.
Gem doesn’t need to know about our father. She sure as hell doesn’t need to hear about our mother’s role in his death. She’d only lose her shit, and she can’t afford the distraction right now.
I’ll tell her when she’s safely off to college.
Ideally after I’ve already murdered our mother.
I slip back into the hallway. The house feels oppressively small, even if it’s the biggest place I’ve ever lived. The walls are tight, and every step is like I’m stomping over nails.
My secrets are going to crush me. But I have to bear them a while longer still.
STELLAN
It’s dark, and I feel trapped. All I want to do is go home, climb into bed with my wife, and fuck her until she’s a twitching, gasping mess.
Instead, I’m sitting in a fucking car, staring out into a quiet, motionless night.
That’s the thing about this operation. It’s better if nothing happens. If I sit here until dawn and there’s not a peep anywhere nearby, I’ll drive home, tired but happy. Maybe it wouldn’t have solved my problem, but at least I’ll be able to scratch one name off a mental list.
The Corsetti Famiglia is a mess right now.
The old men don’t want to admit it. I’m not even sure they can see how fucked things are. Money’s still flowing into our accounts from the usual places, which they probably think means life is good. The Famiglia’s about money and power, and we’ve got more cash than we can feasibly clean and spend.
But what they don’t see is how the power’s slowly leaking away.
Each day that Black Book spends locked in the safe deposit box is another day where I can’t show the city we’re still in control. The longer I go without using what’s written inside, the more our enemies begin to wonder.
Are the Corsettis weak?
Image is everything. In Hollywood, in business, and especially in the fucking underworld. We need to be feared and respected, in that order, and the second the fear goes—
The respect goes too.
I wish that were the end of it. Get the key, grab the book, solve all my problems. Except the rot goes deeper.
The Famiglia was set up a long time ago. Back when gambling was illegal and we could make most of our money on small-time moves.
Now life’s different. We still have a gambling income, but it’s a fraction of our drug trade.
I want to drag the organization into the new century. Which means teaching a bunch of old dogs new tricks.
Or killing them and burying their corpses in shallow graves.
My father would’ve hated it. But he also was smart enough to know that I’m right.
Too bad he’s not here.
I close my eyes and see Kira tattooed on my eyelids. She’s always there whenever I let my mind drift. It’s a real fucking problem. I see her breasts covered in blood, nipples pink, smeared in red, stiff in the night, her back arched toward the moon as she comes on my thick cock. I see her whimpering and begging and swallowing me down her pretty little throat. Kira reverted to her normal, tough-as-nails self the second we got back home.
But there are cracks now.
Little moments where I know she’s thinking about me too.