Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“Stu puorc e merd!” He dropped to his knees with a rough cough, clutching his arm. “The fuck was that for?”
“What the—” Luca began, before I grabbed another golf club, breaking it in half over my knee and slicing his shoulder with it. It was less than a stab, but more than a poke. Enough to draw blood but not warrant stitches.
Having realized I wasn’t playing, Achilles sprang into his golf cart, tossing his half-dead father behind him on the passenger seat.
“Think carefully about your next move, Callaghan,” Achilles warned dryly. “My sister is too young to become a widow.”
I picked a third golf club, spinning its base across my index as I paced toward them, my blood bubbling in my veins like champagne.
“Don’t pretend you give a shit about her.”
“Callaghan,” Vello barked out. “Whatever you’re angry about, I’m sure we can—”
“She’s not intellectually impaired, you oversized used condoms.” I raised the club, slamming it against the vintage golf cart. Judging by Enzo’s wince, it cost a pretty penny. “She’s deaf. Smarter than everyone in this family combined.”
“What?” Luca threw a look of disbelief to his father.
“Did I fucking stutter?”
Enzo shook his head. “You’re saying she has no learning disabil—”
“She sutures like a surgeon and draws like Da Vinci.”
Luca’s mouth pressed into a hard line, his eyes darkening as he took that in.
Achilles said nothing. He simply stared, his sooty eyes as unsettling as a shallow grave.
“I mean, it’s not far-fetched.” Enzo rubbed at his arm, looking between his brothers. “When you think about it…she follows directions, holds eye contact with Mama and Imma. And he’s right. She’s pretty rad with the pencil. You’ve seen her shit. It’s good.”
“Still doesn’t explain why she’d want people to believe she’s incapable.” Luca locked his jaw.
“To throw the suiters off her scent,” Achilles said solemnly. “She wanted to avoid getting married to a Mafia prick. Didn’t work.” He leveled his eyes on me, turning his sharp gaze to his father. “Your response?”
Vello looked spaced out. My guess was his pain meds kicked in and slowed his mind. He shook his head. “This is the first time I’m hearing about this.”
“You think Mama kept a secret from you?” Luca looked skeptical.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Vello murmured bitterly. “And she never wanted Lila to marry someone from the trade.” He was quiet for a moment. “We could’ve formed an alliance with the Bratva through her. Their son was interested.”
The thought of Lila being touched by Alex Rasputin was enough to make me hurl each and every one of these assholes into the ocean.
I tsked. “You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
“I can’t believe Mama kept this from us.” Enzo ran his knuckles over his jaw. “Lila, too.”
“Lila was persuaded by your genius mother it was for the greater good,” I drawled.
“How come?” Enzo frowned.
“Because most mobsters look like wet farts and possess the same amount of charm,” Achilles guessed. “And she knew where this was headed.”
“We need to talk to Mama,” Luca said.
“Good idea.” I grabbed a fresh club and swung it over my shoulder, advancing toward my cart.
“Came to fetch you first before I go meet her.”
“Why?” Luca asked.
“Because you’re the only people who might stop me from killing her.”
_______
The Ferrantes arrived at their manor before me, probably realizing I was pissed enough to follow through with my threat to shoot the matriarch of the family. By the time I parked the golf cart and walked inside, they were all sitting at the table in the kitchen, breads, soups, and salads spread before them. There was a soccer game playing on a gilded framed TV, and a blue forza Napoli scarf draped over the dining chairs. The men were barking orders at the soccer players on TV like they could hear them.
I finally met the elusive Imma. She was sitting with Lila, feeding my wife a hearty Italian wedding soup, cooing at her. Chiara was there, too. Everyone was already eating, but I didn’t mind. We weren’t really family, and thank fuck for that.
“Chiara. A word.” I planted myself between her and my wife.
“It’s Lady Chiara,” she enunciated through pursed lips. “And I do not appreciate your tone.”
“You can say whatever you wanna say to her right here,” Achilles informed me, sprawling on a seat and lighting himself a cigarette.
I reached across the table and yanked the cigarette from his mouth, flicking it into his drink. “Not in front of my wife. This applies both to your cigarette and the conversation.”
“You just threatened to kill her, bro,” Enzo pointed at me with his spoon.
“If we reach an understanding, she’ll probably get to live.”
“You’ll be six feet under if you threaten my wife again,” Vello drawled, staring bitterly at the bowl of food he probably couldn’t stomach. “Your audacity is starting to grate on my nerves, son.”