Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 514(@200wpm)___ 411(@250wpm)___ 343(@300wpm)
Matteo nods in understanding. “Your dad wanted to keep you safe.”
“Yet he was going to marry me off to Dominick.” I scoff.
“Better the devil you know than the one you don’t. Andrey was a fucked-up psycho, who didn’t show his true colors until after your dad got into bed with him. Giuseppe did what he could. Why do you think you didn’t have to marry Dominick the moment you turned eighteen?”
“Because Brielle wanted to go to college.”
“True,” he agrees. “But your dad didn’t have to include you in the agreement. The second Dominick planted the bug in your dad’s ear, he jumped on it, wanting to give you as much time as possible.” He glances at me, and our eyes lock. “Giuseppe was a good man, and he loved you.”
I choke up and nod. “I wish I’d had more time to get to know them.”
“You still have Lorenzo, and he said you’re coming home after you finish school.”
“Yeah.” I breathe out a puff of air. “But maybe I should stay. He was close with our parents, and now, he’s alone.”
“I’m not alone,” Lorenzo says, sitting on the other side of me. “I have that fucker right there.” He nods toward Matteo. “And Mom and Dad would want you to finish your degree. They were so proud of you, Dani, and you’re so close. Two semesters left, and you’ll be done. Don’t give up now. If nothing else, do it for them.”
“Okay,” I agree. “Two semesters, and then I’ll be done.”
“You got this.” Lorenzo slides his arm around my shoulders. “And if you need anything, I’m only a phone call away.”
3
Daniella
“Do we really have to do this?” I pout from the front seat in my friend Jamie’s car, on our way to wherever she’s taking me.
I’m wearing a tight black dress, thanks to Jamie forcing me to change out of my sweats and shower, along with a pair of matching heels with the red soles—both of which were gifts from my mom the last time she came to visit and we went shopping.
My brown hair is down in loose curls since I didn’t have it in me to straighten it, and my makeup is on the heavy side to hide the blotchiness from my earlier crying.
“Yes!” all three of my friends say in unison.
“You’ve been sulking in the apartment long enough,” Jennifer says from the back seat. “It’s time to get out.”
“Besides,” Vicky adds from next to Jennifer, “you were starting to smell. I love you, Dani, but you were stinking up your bedroom.”
I sigh, knowing they’re right. It’s our senior year, and I should be enjoying it. It’s what my parents would’ve wanted. But it’s been hard.
When Thanksgiving and Christmas rolled around, Lorenzo invited me home, but I told him I couldn’t, using the excuse that I was too busy with my classes. The truth was, I couldn’t imagine a holiday without our parents, and it was easier to pretend they were still alive if I didn’t go home.
I know I should be clinging to Lorenzo since they’re gone, but he has a new fiancée, Hillary, and the last thing I want to do is bring anyone down. He deserves to be happy.
“Okay, we’re here!” Jamie says, pulling up to the valet at The Orchids—a club in downtown Coral Bay that we love to frequent.
Because it’s a bit higher class, we don’t run the risk of running into the immature college students who go to the bars to party. The cocktails are good, and the food is delicious. And there’s a small dance floor in the middle that gets used in the evenings.
“Now, I know you’re still mourning your parents,” Vicky says, “but please, for tonight, allow yourself to live a little.”
“Okay,” I agree.
With our arms linked, we head inside the club, bypassing the line since Jamie knows the doorman.
When we get to the bar, we luck out and find four seats in the corner and order drinks.
I’m sipping on my margarita when Vicky elbows me, almost making me spill it on myself.
“Hey—”
“He’s totally checking you out,” Vicky says, waggling her brows.
“Who?” I glance around, not bothering to be stealthy.
My eyes land on an older gentleman, dressed in a suit, with light-brown hair and matching eyes. He’s cute, but what has me doing a double take is the way he’s blatantly staring at me.
“You should go talk to him,” Jennifer says. “It’s been a while since you got any action.”
She’s not wrong. Ever since my boyfriend and I broke up several months ago, thanks to his inability to keep his dick in his pants, I’ve been having a bit of a dry spell.
I consider going over there, but before I can get off my barstool, he’s standing and making his way over to me.
“I’m Henry,” he says, smiling in a way that says he knows he’s good-looking, but isn’t so cocky that he thinks he has it in the bag.