Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Camille yawns during my last two words before she slowly blinks.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” I murmur when Valentina carefully slips out of Camille’s bed and tucks her in as I have every night for the past six months.
After tiptoeing out of her room, Valentina adjusts the camera so it faces her. “She’s fine,” she says, glancing at me. “More than fine. She’s excited. And honestly? I am too. It’s been a while since I’ve had a sleepover.”
I huff out a laugh. “There’s no way Vanni will let you stay all night.”
“Oh, please. He’s too busy running your errands to care where I sleep tonight.” Her lie lasts two seconds. “She sleeps through, right? My room is down the hall, but if your somewhat overbearing brother makes me leave, I want to make sure I’ll still hear her if she wakes.”
I nod. “She sleeps through. Has since…” I stop because I don’t know the answer. I have no clue when she stopped asking for a glass of water. I don’t even know when she first slept through the night. I’m lost to half the things a father should know.
Valentina’s expression softens. “Don’t feel guilty, Dante. What happened was out of your hands, and you’re doing everything you can now to make it right. And sometimes, bettering ourselves benefits our children more than it benefits us. Even if you can’t see how much Lucia’s presence has changed you in the previous two weeks, you can’t deny how much she’s helped Camille.” Tears glisten in her eyes as they stray back to Camille’s partly closed door. “She hugged me tonight.” A small, disbelieving laugh slips out of her O-formed mouth. “First time in six months, so if you can’t find a way to keep Lucia in her life, call me. I’m not above kidnapping.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
After saying goodnight, I end the call. My jaw spasms as I stare at the alcove that cost almost as much as this apartment. Lucia’s shadow is gone, taking with it any hope that she’ll go easy on me since I’m a single father.
As I head to the built-in bar in the den, I pull out my phone and call Giovanni.
He answers immediately. “Already finished or not yet started?”
I scoff, and it reveals everything to him.
“Ouch.”
Not wanting to steal more of his time from his pregnant wife, I ask, “Any updates?”
Valentina is six months pregnant with the first Caruso boy in this generation. Although they got the desired gender for the Cosa Nostra, they’re already planning a world where future children can grow up without bias based on their gender.
“Yeah.” Papers shuffle. “Elio is tracking the locations of the businesses Lucia believes she called tonight.”
I freeze with a bottle of whiskey suspended in midair. “And?”
“It isn’t good,” he says. “Most of them were established after the Popovs pulled away from the sex trafficking conglomerate. The ones that weren’t aren’t any better. They’re still exploiting women. You know how I feel about that.”
I do. Just as much as I know if his unborn child had been a girl, he’d be twice as ruthless.
“Is there any paperwork that will lead us to the distributors? If we can nip this in the bud at the source, we’ll have a better chance of running them out of Sicily.”
He murmurs in agreement. “We’ll shut down the ones on home soil quietly and with no mess.” He continues before I can thank him for his help. “If they’re not from here, I’ll pass on their info to Nikolai.” The integrity of the business in our part of Sicily is usually my burden, but he, along with Matteo, Nico, and Elio, took on a lot of the slack when Camille arrived on my doorstep. “We’re about to visit the popular haunt of your former tenant. Want in?”
I glance toward Lucia’s apartment. The thirst for revenge pulses through my veins, but despite my desire for bloodied knuckles, I can’t forget the promises I made when DNA proved Anna’s claims that I was a father.
“I’m good.”
Giovanni instructs Nico to go straight to the location of the brothel half a mile from here, before asking, “And Lucia? Is she good?”
I scrub at my jaw, fluffing up the scent of her arousal, before twisting to face the city of Carlisle below. “She’s a harder shell to crack.”
He chuckles. “Lucky you like a challenge.”
I laugh like I’m not salty about how Lucia reacted when she arrived home tonight. She stood in her half-finished apartment, arms folded across her chest, holding herself together solely by force, yet she still denied my offer of assistance.
The sparks flying between us were as obvious as the dust catching the light from the multiple downlights now installed in her dingy apartment, but she pretended they weren’t there.
Pretended I wasn’t there.
I hate that.
I hate the way she forces her face into neutrality to smother every spark of emotion. I hate how she lets out an uncontrolled moan when I step close, but then pretends she didn’t. But more than anything, I hate the way her pulse jumps in her throat, visible and frantic, before she tucks her chin into her chest to hide it.