Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Adriano sits still for a moment before he gets up and walks to a black marble-topped liquor cabinet on the far right side of the living room.
My gaze latches onto the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants, and it makes a shiver crawl up my spine.
He pours two tumblers of amber liquid before returning and handing one to me.
“Drink. It will help settle your emotions,” he orders, and instead of sitting down, he goes to stand in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, the view of the garden exquisite.
I take a sip, but the alcohol is way too potent, and I set the tumbler down on the coffee table.
“I’m one of five capos in the Cosa Nostra.” His voice rumbles like thunder, and turning around to look at me, he asks, “Do you know anything about mafia or organized crime?”
Swallowing hard, I shake my head. “Only what I’ve seen in documentaries and movies.”
“The Cosa Nostra consists of five families. Rizzo, Falco, La Rosa, Torrisi, and Vitale. I’m the head of my family.”
That doesn’t explain much to me except that there are more people like him I might have to worry about.
Adriano studies me for several long seconds before downing the whiskey in one go. He comes closer and sets the tumbler on the table, then taking a seat, he turns his body to face mine.
The intense look of power burning in his gaze is extremely unnerving.
“The Cosa Nostra has existed for generations. The five families control different parts of businesses across the world. Shipping, construction, gambling, nightclubs, medication, and medical supplies.” His eyes remain locked on mine, and I swallow hard as I process the information. “I control shipping routes from Europe to the East Coast. Mostly counterfeit goods, stolen merchandise, and high-value contraband.” He pauses, giving me the impression he wants the words to sink in, and boy, do they. “If authorities inspect a shipment, one phone call makes the problem disappear. We own politicians, judges, FBI agents, and cops all over the world.”
That’s how he was able to get the marriage license.
“Clubs like Fallen Angels exist because powerful men like to be reckless behind closed doors.” Adriano’s jaw tightens slightly. “Secrets are worth more than money. Once someone’s weakness is exposed, they’ll hand over anything to keep it buried.”
There’s no emotion in his tone. He’s not bragging but stating cold, hard facts.
“If a person dares to betray or steal from the family, they’re killed.” My heart beats faster and faster. “If someone becomes a threat, they die.” A vicious darkness creeps over his face. “Nobody asks questions because they know it will cost their lives.”
Jesus.
I struggle to contain the crippling fear coursing through my veins.
“I killed Benedict Castellano last year for trying to poach one of my clients,” he admits to committing murder with zero remorse. “Antonio was hotheaded today, and I’m sorry you had to see that. The Castellanos aren’t known for their brains.”
The man mentioned Adriano killed his brother. Now it makes sense.
I remain frozen on the spot, too afraid to move.
“Do you have any questions?”
My tongue darts out to wet my lips before I ask, “So…so you’re a mafia boss?” When he nods, I feel braver to ask another. “Have you ever been to prison?”
He shakes his head. “No, people like me seldom serve time. If we can’t get rid of a charge, we have men who turn themselves in to take the fall. Worst-case scenario, there’s a new identity waiting and an escape plan.”
Right, because money buys anything.
Am I really having this conversation right now?
“With all of that being said,” He raises his arm, and I have to force myself to keep still as he cups my cheek, “you will go nowhere without Marco and Paulie. More men will be assigned to your protective detail, but you only need to know Marco and Paulie’s names.”
Protective detail?
Adriano notices something in my expression, because he says, “Your safety is my priority, Laurie. If someone harms a hair on your head, I will end them.”
Part of me swoons a little, but common sense fears the promise of death in his voice.
In desperate need of comfort, I wrap my arms around myself and turn my head to stare out the windows.
Silence falls like a heavy blanket over us while I try to make sense of this violent and deadly world I’ve been dropped into.
I’m married to a mafia boss who has no problem ending a life, and he seems to be unhinged as hell.
“Laurie.” His tone is soft, almost gentle.
When I don’t respond, I hear him move, then he takes hold of me and pulls me against his chest. His arms engulf me, feeling unbreakable, like there’s no force on earth capable of prying me out of his grip.
He rubs his cheek against the side of my face before saying, “Talk to me.”