Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56771 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 284(@200wpm)___ 227(@250wpm)___ 189(@300wpm)
Rosa turns away, stroking her hand up and down her neck. I’m making her uncomfortable. It’s not fair, is it? After what I did?
“I didn’t send it,” I tell her, “but I was wondering why he let me have the internet but blocked my phone.”
“The phone blocker isn’t for you. It’s for me.”
I lean forward. “What?”
Suddenly, she’s flustered, waving her hands. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Rosa…”
That’s all I have to say. She’s already guilty about hiding one secret. I’m a terrible friend. I can see that’s why she tells me. It’s guilt. She wouldn’t feel that way if she knew the truth and could feel the pulsing in my heart, not to mention the other places.
“I was dating a Russian,” she says. “It’s a long story. It’s not allowed. There were arguments. I don’t want to get into it.”
“You were dating a Russian?”
She stands up, tears in her eyes. “Please, Emma.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Leo
“Why such a sour face?” Dario grins, standing at the one-way window of my Edonismo office. The other side is shiny glass, blending in with the décor, overlooking the main dance floor. “I told you I burned their shit and dumped the rest. I scared a few of their dealers too. All in a day’s work.”
I move my finger around the rim of the whiskey glass. It’s been a long day. It’s six p.m.
I’ve spent it coordinating my men and liaising with the union.
“You should get a medal.”
He walks over to the desk, frowning. “Come on, bro…”
“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “You did good work.”
He sulks into the opposite chair and runs a hand through his hair.
“You remind me of when you were a kid, sitting like that,” I tell him. “Remember how big the age gap seemed then? You were this little bratty kid with a chip on your shoulder, something to prove.”
Dario laughs gruffly. “Something’s eating you today. I can tell. Is it the message?”
He’s talking about the note Fyodor left with Edonismo’s hostess. At least one of Fyodor’s men did. He wants to arrange a meeting and begin peace talks.
“They started this war, and he’s never made contact. The first time he does, he wants peace.”
I keep moving my finger around the edge of the whiskey glass. I haven’t touched it yet. I haven’t drunk in years.
“You’re too suspicious. He wants to meet because he’s seen what we can do.”
“Maybe. We’ll see.”
“You should’ve stayed last night,” Dario says after a pause, flashing a grin at me, gold tooth glinting. “We had a whale of a time.”
“It doesn’t interest me.”
“Maybe you would be interested after a few drinks and dances.”
“We could take power, baby brother, because of what happened to Angelica. The whole Family talks about how I’m completely dedicated to her, a love for the ages. It’s a revenge story that fills their goddamn hearts.”
“I thought Rosa was the poet.”
I push the whiskey glass away. “You get the point. Anyway, I don’t want to hook up with some random woman.”
“I didn’t hook up. I just danced and talked. I like female company.”
“You should find somebody,” I tell him. “You’d be happy. You don’t have the political baggage I do.”
Dario looks at me darkly. He doesn’t have to say anything. We both know what he’s thinking.
“You could make it work,” Dario presses, “once the war ends. You could find somebody. It’s been long enough.”
“What about Rosa?” I snap.
“You can’t use her as an excuse forever. She’s mature. She’d understand.”
I push my chair back, standing, my mind flashing with images of Emma from this morning, sitting with her back to me as though making a point of it. The shape of her shoulders, her curly hair, her body shifting as though her breathing was getting quicker… It was enough for now.
“All right, cut the shit.” Dario follows me to the window, the staff cleaning and preparing for opening. “What’s going on? You’re not telling me something.”
I don’t look at him. “Leave it.”
“Tell me.”
“Go bother someone else.”
He touches my arm, the only man in the Family who would dare to do that. That’s one of the reasons I love him so much.
“Tell me, Leonardo Esposito.”
“Don’t do that. You’re not Dad.”
We’re both quiet for a moment, thinking of our parents, both killed by a rival gang when I was eighteen and he was eleven. That introduced me to this life, a flash of bloody violence.
“Have you met someone?” Dario goes on.
I return to the desk and fidget with the letter opener. The whiskey suddenly seems sickening because I know what it would do to me. It would make it all seem okay, the thoughts that won’t stop clamoring in my head. I hear the pounding of children’s footsteps pitter-pattering across my chest. The visions of the future. The happiness. How do we get there? Lots of spanking, lots of owning. I didn’t even kiss her.