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’ll be a fucking front for your drugs.” I shiver with pure disgust. “There is no way I’ll ever do that. You know how I feel.”
“I know you think you’re self-righteous and pure.”
“No, definitely the opposite,” I whisper, trembling with horror. It’s one thing to marry me off, but to use me as a front for their fentanyl dealing? That’s a step too far. “Please, don’t do this.”
“As our family’s representative in New York, you’ll have power. You’ll have access to money and connections. Imagine all the good you can do with that? Right now, you’re mopping shit and filling out forms. But you can dream so much bigger if you just do your duty.”
For a second, I’m tempted. I’d have real leverage and access if I actually go through with this. Maybe I’d be the front for a drug business, but that won’t be so much different from what I already am.
I’m guilty by association, and I always will be as long as I keep living in this house.
But there’s a difference between being passively involved and actively complicit.
“No, Adriano. I can’t. I just can’t. I’m sorry, but no.” I turn away and walk to the door on unsteady legs. “If this means I have to leave the family, I understand. I won’t hold it against you. I know how much pressure you’re under—”
“I’ll cut off funding,” he says quietly, and that makes me stop.
Bile fills my throat. My stomach twists. “What did you say?”
“To that place. Grace House. I’ll cut off funding. I’ll scare away anyone else who might give them money. I’ll make sure that place shuts down if you don’t do this.”
I stare at my hands and have to lean against the door to keep from passing out. I see those two little girls, afraid but trying to act like things are normal. I see a dozen girls like them, a hundred scared women, all the lives we’ve touched and all the women we’ve helped. I think of all the second chances we’ve given out. All the good we’ve done.
“You wouldn’t,” I say, hands shaking, because I know what Adriano is.
The Famiglia before everything else.
That’s the core of him, no matter what.
“I will, and you know it. Please, don’t make me. Marry the Whelan son. Go to New York and do some real good. I’ll double our contribution to Grace House. But if you refuse, if you walk away—”
I pound my fist against the door. In this moment, I hate him. I hate him so much, and I hate what this family represents. All the greed, the pain, the suffering. All for power and money. And here I am, caught in the middle of it, trapped because I was born to the wrong fucking people. Surrounded by monsters.
“I’ll hate you,” I say and look back at him. Cold fury fills me then. “You know that, right? If you blackmail me into this, I’ll hate you until the day I die.”
“I know.” He seems sad, but that won’t stop him. “And you know how sorry I am it has to be like this. So will you do it?”
“Fuck you.” I turn my back on him. I feel like I’m dying. Like there’s a knife in my chest and each breath makes the metal scrape against my ribs. Pain ripples down my spine. Anguish fills my guts. I want to scream and scream.
But I’m a Marino. I was born in this world. I’ve always known this could happen one day. I just didn’t think it really would.
“Is that a yes?”
“Give me a month to get settled. And you’d better double your contribution. Make sure Grace House never closes, no matter what.”
“You have three weeks, and I promise. They’ll be better off without you, Bianca, and you’ll do so much better in New York. It hurts now, but you’ll see. This is going to work.”
“For you, maybe.”
I open his office door and step into the hallway. I walk back to my suite, holding my head up, trying not to look at the house staff vacuuming or wiping down windows or performing dozens of other tasks. I step into my room, slam the door closed, lock it, and finally collapse on the floor sobbing so hard it feels like I’m going to decompose right there, a fetid rotting corpse of myself, just a body with no soul, no spine, nothing left.
All used up and ruined.
Chapter 3
Cormac
“You don’t gotta do this.”
Jack Grace backs away. He’s in his early twenties with a buzz cut and a shitty gun tattoo across his forehead. It’s supposed to be shooting bullets, but it looks like the rifle’s pissing on his ear. A gold chain glitters in the weak light.
The house smells like death. In the living room, three girls are passed out on the couch. Pills are scattered on the floor around them. I doubt they’ll wake up, even if Jack screams.