Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88326 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 442(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
She turned back to the desk like she expected her father to be sitting there, a member of this late-night meeting. “It doesn’t feel right.”
“This is what he wanted.”
“What he wanted was to live.” Her eyes dropped. “To live to see his grandchildren. To live to see me take over and run it while he enjoyed his golden years. To see his legacy grow and change…and then even be passed down to the next generation. He was so young.”
He was young. That made this even more of a tragedy.
“He raised us on his own, and he did a damn good job.”
“He did,” I said in agreement. Except for Leo. Fucking idiot.
“Most men would have walked away.”
“Family meant everything to him.”
“Yeah, it did.”
I stared at her, seeing the despair and vulnerability in her beautiful eyes. “He wanted you in charge, and he wanted me to keep you safe. That’s what we’re going to do.”
She turned back to me.
“I know if he were alive, he would grant his blessing.” He would forgive me for concealing my affair with his daughter. He would consider me family again. He would welcome me with open arms after everything I’d done. And he would apologize for being wrong about me—and because I loved Francesca, I would accept that apology and move on. “So let’s do it.”
She continued to stare at me with hesitancy, emotion behind her eyes that I couldn’t decipher. She didn’t blink. Tears didn’t well in her eyes. But she had an expression in her gaze in a language I couldn’t read.
“What is it?”
“Nothing.” She blinked. “It’s nothing.”
13
FRANCESCA
We slept in a second-floor bedroom.
My father’s primary suite was spacious with an outdoor terrace, but I would need some time before I was able to move in there. I had to go through all his things and decide what to keep and what to toss, and that seemed like too emotional a task right now. We should probably have a funeral first.
I slept like shit all night. Even with Wolfe beside me, I couldn’t relax. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw my dad’s body in the hallway and my brother crying as he lay on the floor. I would jerk awake again and look in the shadows of the bedroom I didn’t know.
By the time I woke up the next day, it was past noon and Wolfe was gone, probably getting to work on all the things that needed to be done. After I left the bed, I saw the duffel bags on the floor, and when I unzipped them, I found the things I’d taken to his place. He must have had someone go back to retrieve it all so I would have my things.
I took a shower and stood under the warm water for a while, just staring at the colored tile and thinking about all the events of my life that had led me here. I stepped out and looked at myself in the mirror, seeing my wet hair clinging to my face and neck. I looked different—at least, my eyes did.
I got ready for the day, put on a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt, and then headed outside. When I walked down the steps and looked at the dirt road, I expected to see dead bodies everywhere and cars sprayed with bullets, but the road was clear, like nothing had happened.
“Frankie.”
I turned at the sound of Elio’s voice, the closest thing I had to an uncle.
He walked up to me but stopped several feet away, like his presence wasn’t quite welcome. He looked at me with that fatherly gaze, concern and sadness in the lines around his eyes. “You doing okay, sweetheart?”
He’d never called me that before. “Not really.”
He gave a nod. “Yeah, me neither.”
“Are you hurt?”
He shook his head. “Wolfe said you killed Warren.”
“Shot him in the face four times.”
“Good. Your father would be proud. He’d be proud of you for so many things.”
But I would never hear him say those words in the flesh.
“I was wrong about Wolfe. We all were.”
I didn’t gloat. Being right gave me no satisfaction at all. I knew it didn’t make Wolfe feel better either. At the end of the day, my father was dead and gone, and no amount of arrogant self-righteousness would bring him back.
“He’s right for you.”
Wolfe had always been right for me. Since the moment our eyes connected. Since he’d cut his arms however many times just to get a moment of my attention. Since he’d kissed me and told me he wanted me and would never let me go. I wished my father had seen that too. But he didn’t, and now he wouldn’t dance at my wedding. He wouldn’t hold my children when they were born. The loss was so unnecessary, and that was what made it hurt so much.