Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)
Mamma doesn’t talk as we walk to the other side of the mansion where the sunroom is. I don’t switch on the lights as I take her to one of the plush sofas.
The room is filled with indoor plants, and the glass ceiling allows moonlight to shine into the space.
Once we’re seated, I lean back against the sofa and close my eyes.
Mamma leans against my side, then whispers, “Are you tired, mio figlio?”
Sucking in a breath, I let it out slowly. “Yes.”
“You work too hard.”
“If I stop, it will leave the family vulnerable,” I mutter as I lift my arm and wrap it around her shoulders.
There’s a minute’s silence then she says, “I’m proud of you, Damiano.”
“Thank you, Mamma.”
She pats my thigh, then mentions, “Gabriella seems nice.”
“Mmh.”
“We’ve spent a lot of time with her the past week.”
“Mmh.”
“She made dinner tonight. Coda alla vaccinara,” she mentions. “There are leftovers in the kitchen. You should have some. It’s really good.”
“Mmh.”
I let out a sigh because I know where Mamma is going with this conversation.
“Don’t sigh at me,” she mutters. “Dario’s still young, whereas you need to settle down or I’ll never get to see my grandchildren.”
I force my tone to sound calmer than I feel as I say, “Don’t, Mamma. I got the woman for Dario. End of story.”
“Such a pity,” she sighs.
My eyebrow lifts, and my voice sounds almost playful as I ask, “Now you’re sighing at me?”
“Tit for tat,” she chuckles.
The corner of my mouth lifts, and I give her a sideways hug.
“When things quiet down, we should take a vacation. Where would you like to go?”
She thinks for a while, then answers, “The house in Manhattan. Just the two of us.”
“That’s not much of a vacation,” I mention.
“It doesn’t matter where you take me, Damiano. I just want to spend time with you without work interfering.”
Ever since she was blinded, she lost interest in traveling to foreign countries. There’s a stabbing sensation in my chest, and for the millionth time, I wish I could kill my father all over again.
“I’m going to head to bed,” I say as I help Mamma to her feet.
“Try to sleep in tomorrow.”
“I have a meeting at nine.”
She shakes her head, not looking pleased.
I take Mamma back to her sitting room, where Aunt Greta is busy watching TV. Gabriella must’ve returned to her suite.
Once Mamma takes a seat in her favorite armchair, I press a kiss on the top of her head. I spare Aunt Greta a nod before leaving the room.
My phone starts to ring as I head upstairs, and seeing Dario’s name, I answer, “What took you so long to call me back?”
“I was having sex.”
Shaking my head, I mutter, “There’s a meeting at my club at nine tomorrow morning.”
“I’ll be there.”
The call ends, and I shove the device back into my pocket while shaking my head again.
The last thing I needed to hear was that Dario just had sex.
I hope it was a one-night stand and nothing serious, or I’m fucking stuck with Gabriella.
Chapter 10
Gabriella
With Damiano home, I’ve spent the entire day in my bedroom making a skincare tutorial.
Things were tense at breakfast, so I skipped lunch. When Martha came to check on me, I told her I was working and not to worry about me.
Knowing I can’t miss dinner, I check my appearance in the mirror. I’m wearing a short, black cocktail dress with a low-halter top.
“You can survive dinner with Damiano,” I whisper before I leave my room.
I walk down the hallway, and as I come around a bend, my eyes land on Damiano, who’s coming from the other wing. I slow my pace so he’ll head down the stairs before me.
His eyes only touch on me for a split second, and he doesn’t say anything.
I haven’t interacted much with him, but it’s clear he’s a man of few words.
I follow him down the stairs, my gaze drifting over his broad shoulders before locking on his gun.
Even at home, where we’re surrounded by an army of his men, he’s armed.
When I take the last step, my left heel gives way, and not thinking, I reach out to catch myself. My palm slams into the gun at Damiano’s back, and instantly, the blood drains from my face.
Shit.
Damiano spins around, and as I suck in a breath to gasp, his fingers wrap brutally around my throat, and I’m twisted around before he slams me down onto the tiles.
Pain shudders through my hips and shoulder blades. The air explodes from my lungs, and the next second, the barrel of his gun is pressed against my forehead.
ShitShitShit.
Fear fills every inch of my body as I choke the words past his painful grip on my throat, “It was … an … accident.”
Crouched over me, his features are carved from granite, his eyes twin pools of danger.