Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“What do you want?” he asks, scanning the display cabinets.
I stare at all the delicious treats on display, overwhelmed. It’s been years since I’ve had sugar like this. I thought Don Adami denied my many requests to meet because he had no interest in giving his eldest child’s hand to someone outside the Cosa Nostra again. It didn’t occur to me that I had to get rid of a significant amount of baby fat before I could initiate my scheme. A calorie deficit and I became close friends before Don Adami welcomed a one-on-one meeting.
I thought our friendship would wane once I arrived in Sicily, but it didn’t fade, solely because I was tied to a man who happily told me what I could and couldn’t eat.
Antonio’s diet plan is more on the cusp of starvation than healthy.
Pig.
“Azra?” Matteo murmurs, reminding me that he asked a question.
Everything looks too good and sweet, so I forget that I’ve been feeding myself for years.
“Surprise me.”
He studies me for a moment, nods, then walks to the register, where a staff member stares at him with ogling eyes.
Fighting not to display the jealous twit I unleashed at the gym, I sit at a small table by the window and try not to think about the bridal shop across the street and how Matteo used my dislike of Antonio like he knows my game plan.
I’d give anything to be honest with him, but that could change the outcome of the game entirely.
When Matteo joins me at the table, carrying only one plate, I frown. He must have realized my belly jiggle earlier was too voluptuous.
He sets down the plate in front of me, revealing I still have much to learn about this man.
“Where’s yours?”
Remaining quiet, he pulls a candle out of his pocket and jabs it into a rich chocolate cake. When he lights it, I drink in the flickering flame, lost.
“It’s not my birthday.” I love how thoughtful he is, but I can’t keep lying to him.
“Not for another eight weeks,” Matteo agrees, shocking me. My birthday is in our contract, but I didn’t realize he’d paid attention to the minor details.
“Then why?”
“It’s for Hattie.”
My lungs hunt for air, and tears sting my eyes.
Hattie was my best friend. Today would have been her twenty-third birthday.
I didn’t tell him that, though. Did I?
Too stunned to speak, I wipe at a tear rolling down my cheek.
Mindful that he won’t get much out of me when I’m a blubbering idiot, Matteo slides into the seat across from me. “You didn’t give me all the details. But when you told me you hadn’t drunk alcohol before, you said it was your best friend’s birthday tomorrow, so you’d have a drink for her.”
My pulse thrums in my ears.
He remembered that? From a throwaway comment? From a night I barely remember?
He murmurs, almost to himself, “You had more like ten… but who’s counting?”
Although grateful that his playful comment rids the air of tension, I still kick him under the table.
He grunts, rubbing his shin. “You’re violent today.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it.”
He winks at me the same way he did earlier when jealousy overwhelmed me. Then he tells me to blow out the candle and make a wish.
Leaning forward, I blow out the candle, close my eyes, tilt my chin toward heaven, and send my best friend a birthday message.
“Happy birthday, Hattie. I promise I won’t stop fighting until everyone knows the truth.”
When I open my eyes, Matteo’s eyes float over my face. His gaze isn’t brimming with pity or curiosity. It’s filled with something softer. Something dangerous.
Something I can’t afford to feel after the promise I just made.
Chapter 24
Azra
Even though Matteo drives with the same fast, smooth control, the ride back to the Caruso compound feels longer than the ride into town. With my arms wrapped around his waist and cheek pressed to his back, I try to comprehend everything that’s happened today.
Minutes of deliberation only bring me more confusion.
My thoughts are the equivalent of a necklace left in a jewelry box for too long. Every time I free one thread, another tightens around it.
I could tell Matteo the truth about why I want to marry a man I loathe, but then what?
Would my confession change the rules?
Would it ruin everything?
It could make my goal unattainable because there are rules Matteo must follow—rules that don’t apply to me since the Turkish mafia operates without a central authority.
We’re still out on our own, hence my ability to marry a foreigner without Henry Gottle Sr.’s approval.
The moment I speak the truth out loud, the fragile structure I’ve built over the past four years might collapse, leaving me with nothing but the consequences of my actions.
But then there’s Matteo. Dark, dangerous Matteo, who terrifies millions but also buys a cake for me to celebrate the birthday of my best friend after teaching me how to defend myself.