Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
My family worked hard for everything we have, so it infuriates me that he believes something as pathetic as greed can take it away from us.
“You’re selling our history, our fucking blood, for a quick profit. The government wants to run us out of town again, as they did in 1925, when the repression nearly wiped all the Cosa Nostra families from the map. But what you don’t realize, Messina”—I spit out his name as if it arrived with a heap of vomit—“the Carusos are here to stay. My family built this town from the ground up. We protected it when the government turned its back and when the law was just another word for corruption. Not even the mafia wars in ’64 and ’81 kept us dormant for long. Famiglia comes before anything, and the people you ran out of this town are our family.”
My nostrils flare when I lean in close. I’ve always found the scent of fresh blood fascinating.
My reply is void of emotion and deadly calm. “You’re going to tell me everything about this latest ploy the council is running.” He nods, the fight in him lost before I’ve even spelled out all my terms. “Then…” I make him wait to ensure he knows who the true owners of Carlisle are. “I’ll let you choose how you go out.”
“Gio—”
“Don’t push my leniency, Councilor. You were only granted permission to pick your exit because an unusual spiritedness is coursing through my veins. If it weren’t”—I fist his hair roughly enough to pull several strands from the roots, then yank his head back—“I’d spend the next several hours reminding you that mercy isn’t a commodity reserved solely for the rich.” Every second I spend here delays my return to Valentina, so I display unusual impatience. “Speak. Now.”
3
VALENTINA
Iarrive at my appointment with Dr. Russo by the skin of my teeth. I’m out of breath and rattled, but not every gasp is because of my mad dash through the winding maze of Carlisle’s town center. My mind is still processing this morning’s antics, but for the most part, the electric rush I felt when the handsome stranger shielded me from harm is the cause of my current breathlessness.
When Dr. Russo’s secretary tells me to have a seat, I observe my surroundings as if I’m seeing them for the first time. I wish that were true. The hospital has been a second home to me for the past three months. The antiseptic smell in the air and the muffled shuffle of nurses’ shoes are awfully familiar.
Mercifully, the stranger’s alluring scent is still embedded in my shirt. His warm and comforting fragrance screams of wealth. I bet his cologne isn’t available at a standard department store. It reminds me of cedarwood battered with rain after an impossibly humid day. It’s earthy and rich, but with the sophistication you’d expect a man of great power to wear.
For a moment, the stranger’s cologne drifts me away from where I am. I feel safe surrounded by it. Protected, even.
I hold on to that belief for as long as possible because I’m confident my nightmares are about to return stronger than ever.
Today’s meeting isn’t about meet-cutes or the chance encounters people share over coffee while laughing about how fate brought them together. I’m at the leading oncology hospital for a reason.
My life’s purpose hangs entirely on the outcome of this meeting.
As much as I want to believe in happy endings, right now, all I can do is fight to keep it from disappearing entirely.
When the secretary announces that Dr. Russo is on her way and that I can wait for her in her office, I’m forced back to my fragile reality. I barely register the secretary’s sympathetic glance when I bypass her desk fifteen minutes after our scheduled meeting time.
I’m used to the sympathy and pity stares. They’re everywhere—except in the eyes of the stranger when he peered down at me. His gaze was intense, almost challenging. It made me stand taller and had me desperate to prove that I’m more than the sum of my troubles.
It reminded me of who I am under the weight of worry and exhaustion.
I’d be dishonest if I said I wasn’t praying for another impromptu meeting. The chemistry that blistered between us deserves to be explored. I just need to maneuver through this latest roadblock before I can think about adding another challenge to my life’s plan.
Sunlight streams through the tall windows of Dr. Russo’s office and paints the floor pale gold. After sitting opposite Dr. Russo’s desk, I fidget with a thread in my now-indecent blouse while I wait.
Thankfully, Dr. Russo doesn’t keep me waiting long.
Her expression is unreadable when she enters her office holding a clipboard. Her poker face has always been intense.
“Valentina, I’m so glad you could make it.” Instead of sitting across from me, she slots her backside onto the desk near my shaky thigh. “I just wish I had better news.”