Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“Okay, everyone,” he says once he finishes greeting them all. “Enough already. Sometimes I swear you kids have no manners.”
“We got that from you, Uncle Gavino,” the oldest girl, Camilla, says. “Mom says you’re a grumpy old—”
“Careful,” Gavino growls, scowling, and the kids all laugh like it’s the most delightful thing in the world. Like Gavino isn’t a hardened criminal. I smile along, unable to help myself, and the gangster gestures toward me. “Little ones, this is Jeanie, she’s staying in the house for a while. She’ll be my personal secretary. If any of you give her shit or make her life fucking harder—”
“You shouldn’t swear,” Penny says, glaring. “And we’re not little anymore.”
Gavino grunts at her. “If any of you make her life harder, I will make sure your parents hear of it.”
“Wow, cool threat, Uncle Gavino,” Nathan says, Fynn’s oldest boy. “You gonna ground us on top of that?” He rolls his eyes, grinning.
Damian, Nathan’s little brother, laughs and tugs on Gavino’s arm. “Are you going to be staying in the house too?”
“No, I’m not.” Gavino shakes them off as they start chattering again. He claps his hands to get their attention. “Enough, go swim or spend time on TikTok or whatever the hell you youth do with yourselves. One day life won’t be so fun anymore and then you’ll know what it means to be a Bruno.”
Nathan groans dramatically, like he’s heard it a thousand times before. “Mom says you used to be funny, did you know that?”
“You little—”
Nathan laughs and hops away as Gavino tries to grab him playfully. Gavino manages to catch Damian and gives him a noogie before the girls scurry outside. Damian hurries after his brother and cousins.
Gavino watches them go. Once the kids are gone, his shoulders slump like he’s releasing a ton of pent-up air and glances at me. “My siblings have been prolific,” he says. “They created a brood.”
“You’re good with them.” I smile despite myself. I’m uncomfortable, in pain, and afraid, but seeing Gavino get pushed around by a bunch of teens was pretty incredible. It reminds me that he’s not only a heartless mafia bastard—although he’s mostly that.
“They’re exhausting. Come on.” He leads me down the hall, up a back staircase, and to a quiet wing of the house. We pass by some staff who mostly scurry away with their heads hung low. I wonder if Gavino has a reputation and decide yes, he definitely does. “Here you are.” He leads me through a door at the end of a hall beside a big bay window and a potted plant.
My room is more like a suite, with a sitting area, a small kitchen, two bedrooms, a gorgeous balcony, and an incredible bathroom. It’s like a five-star hotel, or at least I think so—I’ve never actually been in a nice hotel before.
“I’ll send guys back to your place for some of your clothes,” Gavino says, frowning around him like he’s trying to decide if the place is up to his standards. “If you want anything particular, make a list.” He nods at a pad of paper and a pen sitting on a table near the door. “Landline phone reaches the head of the house and the kitchens. Kitchen can make you whatever you want, within reason, and head of the house can get you whatever you need, within reason. Use them as much as you want, everyone else does, the spoiled rotten bastards.” He walks to a bar set off near a fireplace and pours himself a drink.
“You seem stressed,” I comment as I drift around touching the pillows, blankets, chairs, tables. I’ve never been in a room like this before in my entire life, and it both impresses me and drives me wild with anger. If we’d had even half the stuff in here, we could’ve been so much more comfortable—not because we would’ve kept this silly, overpriced trash, but we could’ve sold it for rent money and to help cover medical bills. This place is lavish in an obnoxious, borderline horrible way, filled with luxuries nobody needs and flush with so much excess cash it’s hard for me to comprehend.
That’s the Bruno Famiglia though. Wealthy, powerful, connected. Those kids out there, they probably never think about money—whatever they want simply appears, no questions asked.
The opposite of me.
“Family stresses me out.” He drinks, glaring at the windows. “And lately it feels like this family is only getting bigger. Hasn’t been easy.”
“I know what you mean.”
He glances over. “You got family?”
“I had a mother. She’s gone though.”
“What happened?” He grimaces as soon as the words are out and holds up a hand. “No, I shouldn’t have asked, you don’t have to answer.”
“It’s fine. I’ll tell you.” I sip my coffee and place the mug down on the table. It’s lukewarm now and I’d all but forgotten about it. “She died a few years ago. She smoked all her life and I guess it finally caught up with her. We didn’t have much money, and treatment wasn’t cheap, but she fought it the best she could. In the end though, the cancer took her.”