Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 33292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 166(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
She went to get up, but he held his hand out. “Clarissa is not with me,” he said.
“Lorenzo would like to talk to you,” Giovanni said. “I’ll go and grab drinks for everyone.”
Lorenzo appreciated his friend giving him space.
“Where is Clarissa?” Mia said, snuggling back beneath the blanket.
“She’s at home, but I need you to help me.”
“Why? What’s wrong?”
He had never been the kind of guy to ask for help. He didn’t need help. He was perfectly capable of handling everything himself. He sat in the chair opposite her, and the truth was, he hadn’t gotten anywhere with Clarissa. Something had to give.
“I need to know how to win Clarissa,” he said. “I honestly don’t have a clue. Look, I know she heard the things I said, and I’m sorry for them, but we’ve got responsibilities—”
“Don’t,” Mia said. “Don’t make this about chores and family duties or what you owe, or anything like that.”
“I need help,” he said.
Mia looked at him, and he didn’t know why but it was like she changed. “Look, the truth is, I don’t know how to help you. None of us really do. We’re all friends, because at different times, we reached out to each other. We’re similar in age, daughters of mafia men, all being assigned who to marry. Clarissa was one of the last people we got to know. She wasn’t in school. She didn’t mingle in our crowd for a long time. I didn’t even know what happened with her sister. I didn’t even know she had a sister.”
He’d known about her sister. What he didn’t know was that Clarissa had been the one to hold her as she died. There was no way he could tell her she was lucky, that it was a gang newbie fighting for his spot, otherwise, if it had been a gang hit, she would have died as well. That was just cold and heartless.
“Clarissa has always been quiet and withdrawn. She is not someone who gives information easily, but if you want to try and reach her, why not attempt to get to know her? Understand the way she ticks. I know she loves that sewing room, and she loved her grandparents. I know your marriage terrified her, and she doesn’t know the first thing about being a wife. You’ve got to give her time. Be patient with her.”
Patience was not something he had ever possessed.
Chapter Two
The house was eerily quiet.
Clarissa hated when the house was like this. She preferred to hear the echo of the guards’ steps, or to hear them talking. She didn’t always know what they were saying as they spoke in muffled tones. At least, there was noise.
She opened the curtains in her bedroom, stepping onto the small veranda that overlooked the garden. Lorenzo had an absolutely beautiful estate that stole her breath away. She loved it.
She couldn’t help but smile as she looked at the amazing garden. A light frost had fallen, and she wrapped her arms around herself and tried not to get too cold. That was going to be nearly impossible. Stepping back inside her bedroom, she closed the door, flicking the locks into place, even though she had learned that no matter how safe a home was, if someone wanted you dead, they would find a way to get inside.
She left her bedroom and made her way across the small hall to where her sewing studio was, and she did the same, allowing some fresh air into the room. The last thing she wanted was to have it stuffy with dust. After a few seconds, she closed everything and glanced around the room. The suit, once again, caught her eye.
She was not going to destroy all that time and effort. Maybe she would befriend one of the guards, who was similar in stature to Lorenzo, and gift it to him for Christmas.
Leaving her sewing space, although it was the last thing she wanted to do, she made her way downstairs in the empty house—the silent, almost haunted house. She went toward the kitchen, only to stop when she caught sight of Lorenzo behind the stove.
“Good morning,” he said.
She had never seen him in the kitchen. She rarely ever saw him before ten o’clock. It was a little before eight. She’d been up a couple of hours, but hadn’t ventured downstairs until hunger was starting to get the better of her.
“Morning,” she said, a little stunned to see him.
Something was different. She’d never been a rude person. It was drilled into her, with the occasional slap, to always be polite, so she didn’t say anything.
“I’ve got the coffee on, and it should taste good. Bacon, eggs, and some fresh grilled tomatoes for this morning.” He offered her a smile, and she was taken aback.
In the year and a half they’d been married, not once had Lorenzo even smiled at her. At least, she couldn’t recall him ever smiling at her. She couldn’t move, because it had taken her by surprise. He had a nice smile. It was so unexpected.