Total pages in book: 155
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 141532 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 708(@200wpm)___ 566(@250wpm)___ 472(@300wpm)
She couldn’t say he did. In fact, when she’d been in trouble at Evangeline’s bakery, Jewel acting up in front of Alessandro, essentially teasing and flirting with his leopard, Mitya had been wonderful to her. He hadn’t blamed her in the least. More than once, he’d reacted very differently than she’d expected him to.
“No, he’s been sweet to me, but he’s horribly bossy.”
Evangeline flashed her a smug little grin. “They all are. We mostly ignore that, unless we can see it really matters to them. If it matters to me, I let Fyodor know. He finds a way to deal with my ‘mutiny,’ as he calls it.” She laughed softly. “I really love that man.”
“I guess I’m ready to face the masses. Is it thinning out at all?”
“Not really, but Mitya and Sevastyan are taking care of making certain every family is thanked for coming. They’ve made the rounds quite a few times. So have Fyodor, Gorya and Timur. You’re family now, so we’re closing ranks around you.”
That made Ania feel better. Much better. She hadn’t thought that when she was married to Mitya, all of the others would be related to her. She liked the idea of having them all for family, especially Evangeline and Ashe.
Another knock at the door and Ashe was there, framed in the doorway, looking gorgeous as usual. “There’s a gentleman here who would very much like to pay his condolences in person, Ania, and have a few words with you if you’re up for it.”
She stepped aside to allow Ania to see the man behind her. Bartolo Anwar was head of one of the two major crime families in Houston. There was the Caruso family and the Anwar family. Bartolo’s family had been in Houston for generations. The Carusos had migrated there from Florida and taken over the ports.
“Of course.” Ania stood and went to the older man, both hands out.
Bartolo took them and pressed kisses to her knuckles. “I am so sorry this happened to your padre, Ania. He was a good man.”
For some reason, the sincerity in his voice caused tears to well up. “Thank you, signor Anwar. You were always a good friend to him.”
Behind him, the two bodyguards that he never seemed to be without entered the room, glancing at Kiriil and Matvei, but then taking up positions against the wall. Bartolo had lost his wife in childbirth many years earlier. He had two sons, Enrico and Samuele, as well as a daughter, Giacinta. The daughter was very sickly, much like her mother, and she didn’t seem to leave the house ever. Bartolo and her brothers seemed very protective of her.
“Please come in and sit down,” Ania invited, waving toward the chairs. They were the most comfortable in the room, although Ania hadn’t found a single sofa or chair that wasn’t one she could sit in for long periods of time. Whoever had purchased the furniture for Mitya’s home—and she was certain it wasn’t him—had done a very good job.
Bartolo had entered without hesitation. His bodyguards had split up, moving to either side of the wall and positioning themselves so they could easily see the door and anyone who might try to enter. They were also opposite Kiriil and Matvei. For some reason, that made Ania feel a little uneasy.
Evangeline was pregnant, and Ania wanted her out of the room. It wasn’t like there was any kind of threat to either of the women. Bartolo had been very sincere in his condolences.
“Evangeline, honey, would you mind scaring up some coffee for me? I think I need caffeine.” She hoped that Evangeline got the hint.
Evangeline nodded. “No worries. I’ll make a new pot. Would you care for a cup of coffee?” she asked Bartolo.
He shook his head. “No, thank you. I’ve been eating and drinking your delicious food since I got here. I’d heard of your bakery but didn’t believe anything could be as good as everyone was saying. I was wrong.”
Evangeline beamed. Ania decided Bartolo could be a threat to any woman, he was so charming. As Evangeline slipped out the door, Bartolo’s two sons entered.
Ania sent up a silent prayer that they weren’t there for the same reason Marzio had seemed to be. She forced a smile as she looked up at the two men. She didn’t know them as well as she did the Caruso brothers. The Anwars were a little older and always working.
“It has been far too long, Ania,” Enrico, the oldest, said. Like his father, he took her hand and pressed his lips to her knuckles with that same charm his father had.
“It has,” she agreed and then sent a smile to Samuele, hoping there was no more kissing of any part of her. Mitya and his raging leopard were going to be smelling men all over her. She glanced nervously at her bodyguards, but they appeared to be part of the wall, not human or shifter—and no help.