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)
I won’t survive it.
That’s why I’m trying to build a relationship with Valeria. It would be easier if Giovanni were on board with my plans. I knew he’d oppose, so I prepared for an argument. Mercifully, I was saved… No. Rescued from reneging on my invitation when his father appeared at our door.
Giuseppe is the head of the Caruso family. When he requested permission to escort me to the dining room, Giovanni didn’t argue. It makes me wonder if his father’s influence is resolute enough to tug Giovanni toward an amicable playing field instead of one shrouded in darkness.
I cling to that thought like a lifeline while straying my eyes across the guests enjoying an after-dinner drink.
Mom is radiant tonight. Happiness paints her cheeks with more color than they’ve had in months, and when Giovanni’s father greeted her by taking her hand and pressing his lips to her skin, the hue stretched to her chest.
Several times tonight, I’ve caught her eyes sparkling as brightly as the chandeliers, and her breath has hitched more than once. I know my aunt sees it too. Her grin is wicked, and her gaze forever darts between Giuseppe and Mom like a gossip reporter hunting for its next scoop.
She’ll corner Mom later, I’m certain.
She lives for gossip like this.
I lean back in my chair and then angle my body closer to Giovanni. He sits beside me with his hand resting on my thigh. Every time his thumb brushes my skin, warmth blooms through me. He’s quiet tonight, but I don’t question it. We’ve never had a discussion with our clothes on, and I’d rather not test out how much I’ll hate our first one while in the presence of our parents.
“They’re getting along well,” I whisper in Giovanni’s ear before nudging my head across the table to my mother and his father across from us.
The table is a masterpiece. White linen is stretched across a setting that can seat fifty, and hundreds of candles flicker on the faces of those dearest to my mother. I invited only my aunt and Valeria, but it appears Giuseppe took this celebration as an excuse for a Palermo reunion. There are over thirty guests I’ve yet to meet.
Giovanni’s nod causes his pricey aftershave to overpower the scent of the roasted meats and jeweled salads we consumed. “I haven’t seen him like this since Mamma passed.”
There’s no malice in his tone. No anger. Still, I can’t help but ask, “Does that bother you?”
His lazy smile as he shakes his head sends a low, steady pulse throughout my body and makes this gathering feel more like a funeral than a party.
It’s been hours since I’ve been beneath him, but it seems more like a lifetime.
I’ve never been so eager to be the first to leave.
Earlier, I made out that I hate how well his attention pinches my smarts. I lied. I love how carefree his doting has made me, and that the world doesn’t seem as scary as it once did. I guess this is where I’m meant to say it was the hormones talking during our argument. I would if I didn’t think it was the cheat’s way out.
Eager to fix my rights, I ask, “Should we do the cake?” Even though I’m asking a question, I don’t give Giovanni a chance to respond. “We should do the cake.”
With a quick adjustment of his position, which announces he’s aware of the cause of my eagerness, Giovanni signals to the head butler to fetch the cake.
I’m not solely requesting we tick off the last item on our agenda tonight because I’m a horny wench endeavoring to make up for years of abstinence in a month. My mother also looks tired. She’s putting on a brave front, but the more the festivities continue, the wobblier her steps become.
I brush my lips against the edge of Giovanni’s mouth before gathering my mother from across the room and placing her at the king’s spot, as per Giuseppe’s silent offer when he pulls out his chair for her.
Although Mom’s relieved sigh is silent, I still hear it. I was right. She’s exhausted.
“Just a few more minutes, Mamma. The cake is the last item on the agenda. Then you’re free to go. I promise.”
She pats my hand and smiles up at me. “Thank you, tesoro. Tonight has been wonderful, but I am exhausted.”
“Don’t thank me. I only told him your approved date.”
Her eyes gleam with a sparkle I haven’t seen before when she follows the direction of my gaze. As if he can sense my mother’s presence as well as Giovanni can mine, Giuseppe cranks his neck to face us the second Mom’s eyes land on him.
When she mouths her thanks, he dips his chin, bowing out of a shower of praise with a gratitude I’m certain my mother has never witnessed.