Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Matteo is only a step behind but makes fast work of grabbing two chipped tumblers from a cabinet.
I pour.
Amber liquid splashes into the glass.
Matteo lifts his glass, clinking it lightly against mine. “To no issues today.”
“To small miracles.” I take a sip.
The whiskey bites, but it also steadies me. Something I need while I lie to him.
Matteo watches me over the rim of his glass, then drops it to his side with a sigh. “You need to blow off steam.”
“I have steam. It’s simmering. It’s fine.”
“That’s not steam,” he counters, leaning his hip against the desk. “That’s a volcano ready to erupt.”
I take another sip. “Maybe that’s how I have to be to get the job done.”
Matteo laughs, low and warm. “Peace might be nice . . .”
“Peace is boring.” I swallow the whiskey and let the burn distract me.
“You want advice?” I ask.
Matteo’s brows lift. “Do I?”
“Worry about someone else. I’m fine.”
Matteo’s eyes narrow. He’s suspicious. He’s also loyal enough to let me hide if he thinks I need it. “I was going to suggest you find a woman,” he says, as if testing the waters.
I choke on a laugh. “A woman?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “Someone to take the edge off. Someone warm. Breathing. Preferably not armed.”
I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “You think sex will fix my attitude?”
Matteo’s smile turns wicked. “It fixes a lot of things.”
“Sex won’t fix that. I want to kill everyone.”
“That’s true,” he agrees readily.
“But I’ll think about it.”
Matteo’s eyes brighten like he’s pleased with himself. “Look at you. Growth.”
“Don’t get excited,” I warn, sipping again. “My growth is mostly cancerous.”
He grins. “So what’s the plan tonight?”
I glance at the clock, as if time is something I can still control. “Poker game.”
Matteo perks up. “At Cyrus’s?”
I nod once.
Matteo’s grin widens. “Perfect. I’ll go with you.”
I freeze mid-sip.
Matteo catches it immediately. “What? You afraid I’ll embarrass you?”
My jaw flexes. “You’re a walking embarrassment.”
“Aw.” He clinks his glass against mine again. “You love me. You do remember he was my friend first, right?”
“Fuck off. And I don’t love you.”
“You do.”
I push past him, heading for the exit. “Get in the car.”
Matteo follows.
The drive to Cyrus’s doesn’t take that long.
Matteo talks the whole way. Trying to figure out the shit with Boston. I let him fill the silence because if he doesn’t, my mind drifts to Victoria.
When I’m busy, I’m able to distract myself, but now that I’m not actively torturing or doing a deal, she’s all I can think about.
Her mouth.
Her eyes.
The way she looks at me, like she hates me and wants me in the same breath.
I focus on the road, on the snow, on anything but the fact that I’m not with her.
Luckily for me, Cyrus Reed’s mansion appears in the distance.
Warm light glows behind the huge glass windows as I pull up the driveway, passing the security gate that’s opened for us.
Matteo whistles low. “I’ll never get over how nice this place is.”
“Well, he does collect power and money,” I respond, pulling into the circular drive.
Matteo grins. “That he does.”
I cut the engine and glance at him. “Don’t lose all your money, like last time. Your dad will kill me.”
Matteo laughs as we step out into the cold. Snow crunches under our shoes with each step we take until we are finally inside.
Inside, we are instantly met with the smell of smoke and expensive liquor.
Cyrus stands in the main lounge, a glass of scotch in hand, sleeves rolled up. His gaze slides to me before flicking to Matteo.
“Matteo, fucking finally.” He looks over at me next. “Lorenzo.”
“That’s it? Where’s my love?” I joke.
“I see you every week, idiot.”
Matteo laughs at Cyrus’s words.
Cyrus’s attention swings back to me. His eyes drag over my face. Then he lifts his glass. “You look like you’ve been chewing glass.”
“Dinner.” I walk past him toward the bar. “My favorite meal.”
Cyrus chuckles softly.
Matteo drifts toward the poker table, already talking casually to the men sitting behind it.
I pour myself a drink, moving closer to where Cyrus stands.
Cyrus leans in so only I can hear. “How did it go?”
I don’t look at him. I swirl the scotch, watching the amber move.
“Fine,” I reply.
Cyrus’s mouth curves. “That’s not an answer you give when things go fine.”
I take a sip, letting it burn. “I got the desired results.”
His gaze is steady, calm, and intelligent. “Nothing more?”
I let silence hang.
Cyrus doesn’t press. That’s why I trust him with exactly what I trust him with—very little, very carefully measured.
He lifts his glass slightly. “Then congratulations. You got . . . whatever you wanted.”
I clink mine against his with a soft, controlled tap. “You don’t even know what I won, so don’t sound so proud.”
Cyrus’s smile sharpens. “Pride is my best quality.”
Across the room, laughter rises from the men seated at the table. Matteo catches my eye and jerks his chin, telling me to come over. I should go. I should lose myself in the game. That’s what I’m here for after all.