Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
That doesn’t seem to make him feel any better.
I grab a box and head up the stoop. Adriano’s on my heels. I buzz the door and only have to wait a beat before it unlocks. I balance my stuff in one arm, push it open—
And run right into a wall of muscle.
“I’ve got you,” Cormac says as his hand presses against the small of my back, keeping me from tumbling onto the sidewalk. He easily steals the box I was carrying like it weighs nothing.
“You startled me.” I push back against his chest. “I’m fine though.” I stare up into his serious, handsome face, and he glowers back. I’m afraid he won’t step inside and I’ll be stuck living out on the street forever. But a moment later, he nods to my brother and turns away.
“Welcome home,” Adriano murmurs, following me down an entry hall and into a surprisingly nice kitchen and living area.
Lots of hardwood floors. Not much clutter. The furniture is new and looks barely used. There’s a big TV hanging over an old fireplace. Lots of the original molding and details look like they’ve been lovingly restored.
And there are plants.
My god, so many plants. Tons of them on almost every surface. I’m so surprised I just stare around in disbelief. There’s English ivy and snake plants, Chinese money plants and rubber trees. There are a dozen more that I don’t recognize, most in beautiful old pots arranged around the big windows with their ample lighting.
“Looks like a fucking jungle in here,” Adriano comments quietly to me. “Where should we put her stuff?” he asks Cormac a little louder.
“Wherever. We’ll get it sorted later.” He drops my box on the big old farmhouse table and glowers. “I’ll carry the rest.”
With Cormac helping, we get all my things lined up inside pretty fast. The tension between my husband and my brother is intense, and I’m ready for Adriano to start the drive back to Philadelphia sooner rather than later. As soon as the final box is dropped off, I steer him out onto the sidewalk and give him a big hug.
“Send my love to Alessia and Lucy.” I put on my big girl smile and make him think I’m being very brave, while inwardly I’m terrified to go back into that house.
“Are you sure about this?” He hesitates, looking over my shoulder. Cormac’s lurking in the doorway, watching with that strange intensity of his.
“Hell no, but it’s too late for that.” I jab a finger in Adriano’s chest. “This was your idea, remember?”
“Not exactly.” He forces himself to smile and gives me another hug. “Love you, Bianca. Seriously, call me if anything’s off. There’s going to be a Marino Famiglia liaison working with you as well, and you can check in with him if you need anything.”
“I’ll be fine. Honestly, I really will. Go home to your wife and kid, will you?”
He hesitates one more time, but he finally shakes his head and gets behind the wheel. I watch him go, dread filling my stomach.
“Is that everything?” Cormac asks once I head back inside. We stand together and survey my life, packed neatly in little boxes and stacked into a corner.
“Not even close.”
His eyebrows lift. “How much more do you have?”
“Enough.”
“I don’t like how vague you’re being.”
“What does it matter? Afraid I’ll have to displace some of your plants?” I cross my arms, trying not to smirk at him. “You don’t strike me as the growing kind of guy.”
“I do plenty of killing.” He stares right back and a chill runs down my spine. “It’s nice to make something live for a change.”
God, he’s freaking terrifying. I can tell he’s not even joking. My crazy husband is not just a murderer.
He’s a freaking gardener too.
“I hope you don’t have flowers growing in my bedroom,” I mutter as I start to drift around the house, checking out the first floor. It’s moderately large, on the big side for an NYC home. An ancient chandelier hangs in the front sitting room. The big bay windows are framed by deep brown wood, and the floor has that interesting checkered pattern. I take the steps to the next floor, some of them creaking.
“Who said anything about your bedroom?” Cormac asks mildly, following after.
“I assume you have a bed made up for me?” I poke my head into the first room. It’s completely empty. Not even a stick of furniture. The next is the same, and the last one looks like the master. It’s the biggest with a beautiful old bed and what looks like an updated bathroom. “Somewhere, I’m guessing?”
Dread starts to fill my stomach. “I didn’t know I had another bed.”
I glare at him. “You’re joking?”
“Do I seem like a funny guy to you?”
“Not even a little bit.” I push past him. Sure enough, the only other room that gets any use is half office and half library. The second I step foot inside, I breathe deep, and the smell of my ghost hits me in the face like a fist to the nose. It reels me, nearly flattens me, and I have to lean against a nearby shelf to keep from staggering.