Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105734 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 529(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
All that is irrelevant now. Corello is going to kill me and force Frankie to dispose of the body. My stomach flips under the realization that these are my last moments on the planet. There are a thousand things I wish I could do, but I’ve just run out of time.
“Relax,” Corello says, lowering his gun. “I didn’t realize it was you.”
I swallow heavily, my oxygen-starved brain having a difficult time getting up to speed. “I didn’t—” I walk back to my actions like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.
“I know,” Corello says. “You probably just had a hard time sleeping in a new place, and you were looking for a book to read.”
“That’s right,” I exclaim, grasping at straws.
I can’t believe he’s feeding me the perfect line to use. What’s even worse is that I know he’s doing it. There is no mistaking my actions in his inner sanctum. The desk drawer was open, and my phone was pointed at it.
The only explanation is that Frankie is on his mind. He doesn’t want to admit that the woman his son brought home is involved in any kind of shady conspiracy. He’s giving me the benefit of the doubt and telling me he knows. I wonder what the fallout is going to be. Obviously, in this moment, he’s not going to shoot me. But going forward, there’s no telling what he will do.
As I stand there, frozen with a mixture of fear and guilt, he approaches me. I flinch, yet I’m helpless to do anything else. My heart speeds up to the point where I can hear blood rushing through my ears. This is the moment I’ve pictured ever since Danny died. Here I am, alone with my brother’s killer, and all our cards are on the table.
Some generous part of me yells out that Corello doesn’t yet know who I am. He knows that I’m not looking for a book to read, but beyond that, he’s not privy to any specifics. That is the only advantage that I have, since I’m sure he would react differently if he realized my actual plan.
I watch him come closer, and my eyes dart toward the open door. Can I make it there in time? Will this thin veneer of civilization that has crystallized between us be shattered if I make a move? I have to pass him to reach the door, and I’m not sure his generosity will extend that far. What if he means to silence me some other way, like with his hands instead of his gun?
I force myself to meet his eyes, knowing there is little I can do in this situation. But if these are my last moments, I’m determined to meet them head-on. I exhale to expand my chest, doing my best to look threatening. I don’t want him to think I’m defenseless, even though it’s obvious he holds all the power.
He stops mere inches from me, his gaze more curious than anything else. He scans my eyes for information which I don’t give him. I keep my mouth shut, knowing that Frankie’s feelings mean a great deal to Corello. It’s the one thing I have to bargain with in this moment, and we both know it.
Finally, Corello reaches for my phone. He picks it up off the desk and hands it to me. My finger shakes as I retrieve it, nodding my thanks. But just as he makes the handoff, he grabs my wrist with the opposite hand. He’s much stronger than I expect, and the pressure nearly registers as pain. His eyes flash dangerously.
“If you hurt my son in any way, I will find you,” he says.
My jaw is stapled together with adrenaline; I couldn’t even speak if I wanted to.
“Let’s just assume that you were here for a book, and we can forget this ever happened,” Corello suggests.
I nod, grateful for his mercy. He releases me, and all my calculations about how to get away come back to me in a flash. I’m no longer worried about the optics of getting by him. I’ve been dismissed, and unless I want to challenge his authority further, I need to make myself scarce.
I shove the phone into my pocket and hurry to the door. As I leave, I can see him studying the desk. He wants to know what I was looking at, but he’s not going to confront me overtly. He’s given me a warning: back off if I know what’s good for me.
My entire body vibrates with terror as I force myself to walk back to the staircase. Half of me wants to make a beeline for the front door. I could let myself out, run down the driveway to the gate, and maybe scale the fence. But of course, that won’t do. Corello has released me on the assumption that I’m romantically involved with his son. He gave me strict instructions not to hurt Frankie, and by disappearing, I would only make things worse.