Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
A single call can change that, but he never did pick up the phone after that day I got arrested. Like he told me, I’m dead to him now. I learned to accept his decision. What I do know, however, is that there’s no fucking way I’m ending up like that. I never want to watch the woman I love die a little each day because I can’t take care of her. I’d commit unspeakable crimes before I send my children to school with empty stomachs and threadbare clothes. If the money I make is considered filthy, I prefer to be dirty. I’d rather be detested than adored. I’d sooner go to hell than suffer in righteous poverty.
It’s difficult to say when exactly I became so corrupted. My intentions for stealing were clear at first. It was born from helpless anger as I was forced to see my mother suffer day after day while slowly wasting away. Then there was Rachele and the need not only to impress her but also to prove that I fit in her circles. The money was always secondary, not that it wasn’t nice to have. Now that there’s nothing left, the money is everything. All that remains is the power. I climbed too high to give it up. I’m at the top of the chain, one step below Luigi on par with Giorgio. Falling from that kind of height is fatal. If anyone succeeds in taking my place, he’s not going to let me live. It’ll be too dangerous, an uncalculated risk. No, if I go down, it’ll be with a bullet embedded in my skull.
I give myself a once-over in the mirror, making sure my grooming is impeccable before I shove a few clean outfits in a bag and head out. As I commanded, Kevin waits in the garage. There’s no doubt that the cops are having me watched, and it’s best not to let them see me leave with a bag. We’ll shake them off on the way to the helipad.
I’ll order Kevin to stay in front of Giorgio’s house. We’ll be out the back and on our way before they catch on. To be on the safe side, we’ll change cars in the underground parking lot of one of Luigi’s clubs. The security is top notch, and the places are swept for bugs and hidden cameras daily.
En route to Giorgio’s place, I use a burner phone to send a message to the pilot, letting him know we’ll take off in an hour.
Giorgio’s housekeeper opens the door when I ring his bell. She shows me to the study and retreats quietly.
The smell of her perfume reaches me before I enter the room. Giorgio leans on the wall next to the fireplace, smoking a cigarette. Rachele stands in the middle of the floor wearing a red dress that hugs her figure and lipstick to match. Her black hair curls over her shoulders.
I turn to Giorgio. “What’s she doing here?”
He shrugs. “She asked me to tell her when you’d be here.”
He should know fucking better. “So, you did?”
Rachele steps forward. “It wouldn’t have been necessary if you answered your phone.”
I pin her with a cool look. “Maybe I don’t answer because I have nothing to say to you.”
“Christ,” Giorgio mutters, rolling his eyes.
Rachele balls her hands at her sides. “There’s a wedding coming up. Elena is getting married.”
“Yes.” My tone is dry. “I got the invitation.”
She scrutinizes me with her dark eyes. “Papa wants you to be there. It’s important for the business with the alliance he’s making with the groom’s family.”
“If Luigi wants me there, I’ll be there.”
She lifts her chin. “I’ll be there.”
“Naturally.” My smile lacks emotion. “Elena is your cousin.”
“With Archibald,” she says with meaning.
“What do you want me to say?” I raise a brow. “Congratulations?”
“Jesus, Sav.” She pulls a face and lifts her hands in that ‘What the fuck?’ manner of hers. “Don’t be such an asshole.”
“Thanks for the heads up, but I don’t give a damn who your plus one is.”
She huffs, lifting her face to the ceiling before looking at me again. “You can’t make a scene.”
I chuckle. “What makes you think I’ll make a scene?”
She pinches her lips into a thin line. “Because you were violent when you came to get your stuff.” She ads with an accusation in her tone, “You threatened him.”
“Did I?”
“Oh, come on. Cut the bullshit. You cleaned the counter with a swipe of your arm, breaking God knows how many plates and glasses. You said you’d stab out his eyes, tear off his limbs, and put his dick through a meat grinder if you ever caught him in the same room as you.”
“Did that frighten the coward? Is that why he’s hiding behind your skirts, sending you to do his bidding?”
“He’s not a coward.” She crosses her arms. “He’s an artist. He’s sensitive.”