Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 24323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24323 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 122(@200wpm)___ 97(@250wpm)___ 81(@300wpm)
"Oh, should I—-"
He glared at her, and Cadence said meekly, "Enjoy your walk."
Keiran stalked off, needing air and distance from the temptation he had only himself to thank for. The balcony was mercifully empty, the cool night air helping to calm his body if not his mind.
What the hell was wrong with him?
This night was supposed to be about making her pay. So why the hell—-are you fucking kidding me?
Keiran had just turned back toward the ballroom, and the first thing he saw were both James Preston and Grant Poorly taking advantage of his absence by swarming around Cadence like starving flies.
Assholes.
He was about to return to the ballroom when the doors to the balcony swung open again, and a man in his late thirties walked out to join him.
Giancarlo Marchetti.
Keiran's face turned impassive as he came face to face with Boston's most powerful mafia billionaire.
"You're a hard man to get a hold of, de Laigny."
"I wouldn't have attended tonight if I hadn't met you," he said evenly.
"I had a feeling that much was the case."
"What do you want, Marchetti?"
Giancarlo leaned against the railing, his posture deceptively casual, but Keiran wasn't fooled at all. Most people thought Giancarlo's rise from the dead was an urban legend to turn him into a more terrifying boogeyman than he already was. But Keiran's trusted sources had told him otherwise.
Everything he heard about Giancarlo Marchetti was true...for better or for worse.
"I thought it was time we were formally acquainted, all things considered."
"Don't beat around the bush."
"You are not the only one who has a blood debt to pay," Giancarlo murmured, "and just like you, it is one I intend to keep, even if it costs me my life."
What the fuck was this man playing at?
Keiran stared at the other man, saying grimly, "You're the last person to be seen alive with Viktor Biancardi."
"Indeed." Giancarlo's smile was razor-sharp. "And I could say the same for him almost three years ago...when he attempted to kill me."
Keiran had heard of this, but it was a completely different thing to have it confirmed. And to cross a Marchetti, well...it could only mean one thing, even for men like Viktor Biancardi, whom everyone knew was once a close friend of Giancarlo himself.
"Are we going to be enemies, Marchetti?"
"I'm hoping we won't be, but it remains to be seen." Giancarlo's eyes were calculating. "Because contrary to what you obviously assume I'm here for, I'm on your side. I will go as far as thinking of myself as your ally even...whether you want it or not."
"But there's a catch, of course," Keiran mocked.
Giancarlo shrugged. "It would not be a deal in our world if there is none, si?" His gaze turned back to the ballroom. "But perhaps it should be something we can talk about later. I believe you have more pressing things to attend to."
Through the glass doors, Keiran could see it was just Cadence and Poorly now, and how the hell did she not notice the way the other man was staring hungrily at her breasts?
"You should do something about that, don't you think?" Giancarlo suggested.
Keiran wanted to do exactly that, but what was it to Marchetti if he did or not?
Giancarlo smiled. "Have I been remiss in telling you something? We've sworn to protect the same person, de Laigny. And so I shall be your faithful ally...until our objectives no longer align. But I hope that day won't come."
Cadence
ONE MOMENT I'M ALONE, and then the next thing I know, Keiran is suddenly by my side, and he's dumping his jacket forcefully over my shoulders.
"I think you're cold."
"Actually—-"
Smoke-gray eyes glare at me, and I say right away, "I really am so, so cold. How wonderful of you to notice!"
Keiran then turns to Grant, and I open my mouth, thinking I should re-introduce them, but Keiran beats me to speaking.
"Leave."
Grant stiffens.
"Now."
He opens his mouth to argue, but when Keiran takes a step towards him, Grant ends up backing off. He leaves without meeting my gaze, and I don't know what I should feel first. Pity? Shock? Dismay? I turn to Keiran, and the moment I see the jealous rage in his gaze—-
Oh.
It all becomes clear now, and I know exactly what I should feel.
And it's hope.
"That wasn't nice of you," I say chidingly.
"Are you taking Poorly's side?" he grits out.
I choke back a laugh. "It's Porely, and you know it."
"Who the fuck cares?"
"I care—-"
"Oh, do you?"
"He's a very good friend—-"
Keiran looks as if he seriously wants to kill me. "Is he?"
"He is," I say softly. "Because in the three years you've been gone, he was the only one willing to listen to me talk about how much I love and miss you...even during the years I believed you cheated on me."
Keiran's eyes squeeze shut.
"And when I did find out you didn't cheat on me—-"