Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 163540 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 818(@200wpm)___ 654(@250wpm)___ 545(@300wpm)
“And how do we do that? It’s a lot easier said than done,” he replies.
I think for a moment. “It’s not actually a bad idea, to be honest. Why don't we go off the grid for a while? Hide until everything is over with.” I smile to myself as I imagine a life on the run.
“I’m not taking the cowards way out and running. I’ll handle Lombardi myself.” He watches me for a moment. I can see his brain ticking over before he raises an eyebrow.
“What? What are you thinking?” I ask.
“If I were dead…” His voice trails off.
“What?”
“He wouldn’t be expecting me.”
My eyes widen as I stare at him. “Stop, Enrico. Whatever the hell you are thinking? Just stop it.”
He stares into space; his mind miles away.
“This is one big nightmare. I don't know what to do. I don't know what to say, I don't know who to trust. I mean, what in the hell are we supposed to do now? Just wait here until you get arrested?” I huff.
“What we do is we go to bed. We’ll get up tomorrow, and then you try not to worry. Let me handle this. I’ll do the worrying for us both.”
My brave man, always taking the load from me.
“We’ll fight it in court,” he eventually says.
“And winning in court… what will that do?”
He frowns at me, not answering.
“You’re okay with the fact that our children will be perceived as criminals? That they’ll spend their lives not being able to make new friends? That we will live in this fucking bubble of protection from the outside world?”
“It is what it is.”
“What it is is fucked up.” I stand in a rush, and water sloshes out of the bath onto the floor.
“Olivia,” he sighs.
I snatch the towel from the rack, my anger exploding like a volcano.
“Don’t you Olivia me. I’m going to bed to dream about a life where I’m not in this mess—where the friends I make are there because they actually like me.” I flick the towel around my shoulders. “I know why you’re not scared about going to prison, Enrico.” I dry my back with vigor. “It’s because you already live in one.”
“Do you think I like this?” he yells.
My eyes well with tears anew at his anger. I’m fragile enough already. I don’t need him yelling at me, and I know this isn’t his fault, but I have nobody else to blame.
I storm into the bedroom and throw myself onto the bed.
I knew who he was. I knew the life that he led, but I never realized how hard living day-to-day without trusting a single soul was going to be. This isn’t who I am. I trust everybody I meet. It’s my nature. I like people. I want new people in my life. I’ll never make a new friend again after this.
I screw up my face to fight the tears. It’s all so overwhelming. I feel like my head is about to explode.
I get under the blankets, bury my face into my pillow, and I let myself cry.
I wake to the feel of a lead ball on my shoulders. It’s like I’m carrying the weight of the world. Enrico came to bed late last night but he didn’t touch me. He got into bed and turned his back.
I get up and go to the bathroom. Once I’m done, I climb back under the covers.
I’m more hopeful today.
We can fight this.
Good always wins over evil.
Enrico Ferrara is a good man. He’s the best.
I snuggle into his back. Eventually he rolls over, and we lie face to face on our sides.
“Hi.” I smile softly.
“Hey.”
He looks so sad.
“I’m sorry I blamed you,” I whisper.
“Don’t be. It is my fault.” He eyes hold mine and we lie in silence for a while, both deep in thought. He reaches up and trails his finger down my bare arm. “Having second thoughts about a life with me?”
“No.” His face is solemn. “Why would you even say that?” I pull him into an embrace. “I love you. I would never have second thoughts about us. This isn’t your fault, Rico. You can’t help the things that your family have done before you. Tell me about this madman.”
He sighs. “About six months ago, this guy started recruiting men.” He pauses, as if searching for the right words. “He’s burned down five of our brothels. He murdered one of the working girls in Sicily. He even carved his name into her face as a warning to me.”
My face falls. “What does he want?”
“The brothels.”
“Give them to him.”
“It doesn’t work like that.” He sighs sadly. “He’ll beat the girls, get them addicted to drugs, and eventually kill them if they ever try and leave. If I hand him the brothels, I hand over their lives, too.” He fiddles with the sheets between us. “And then he’ll come after us, anyway. It’s a power thing now, and he wants control. The ultimate trophy would be a Ferrara skull.”