Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any more tedious, the live band began playing a waltz, and Achilles appeared like a summoned evil spirit in a séance gone wrong. The wicked grin on his face looked like it’d been carved with a knife. He offered my wife his open palm with a bow. “Mrs. Blackthorn, would you do me the honor of a dance?”
He was insane if he thought I’d let his filthy hands touch her.
“Hard to pull off a waltz with two broken legs.” I draped an arm over the back of her chair.
Gia’s icy glare turned into a warm smile once she realized I didn’t want her to dance with him.
“Mr. Ferrante, I’m pleased you asked.” She placed her hand in his and stood up.
I pushed up to my feet, getting into Achilles’s face. “What are you playing at?”
“Why, Blackthorn, can’t a man dance with a beautiful woman at his brother’s engagement party?”
“A man certainly can. But not this one.” I pointed at Gia.
I had no idea where this hissy fit came from. I wasn’t usually the jealous type.
“This one also has a mind of her own.” Gia wedged herself between us, pushing at my chest. “And she wants to dance. Bugger off, Tate.”
The smirk Achilles gave me as he led my wife to the dance floor was reason enough to break every bone in his body, stapes bone included.
Making a scene was not my style. Shocking and terrorizing people, however? Right up my alley. So instead of seething, I strolled straight over to Achilles’s heel.
To the Ferrantes’ unspoken weakness.
To their innocent, precious Lila.
Raffaella ‘Lila’ Ferrante only noticed my presence when my frame cast a shadow over her kiddie table. She stared up at me, sapphire eyes flaring in panic. She was not used to being acknowledged by nonfamily members was my guess.
“Hello, Raffaella,” I said slowly, softly, as you would to a toddler. From the corner of my eye, I saw four Ferrante soldiers stand up from their seats, as did Enzo and Luca.
Her eyes immediately went in search of them, terrified and unsure. I ignored the way the chatter in the room died altogether.
“Would you like to dance?” I drawled.
She wasn’t yet eighteen. I wasn’t a pedophile and wasn’t attracted to her, but sometimes, it really paid off to be seen as the most debauched creature alive, because then people assumed the worst about me.
Lila’s eyes longingly drifted to the dance floor, but she pursed her lips, shaking her head no.
Every soldier in the room held their breath, waiting for an order.
Every underboss tuned in.
“It’s okay if you don’t know how,” I coaxed, knowing full well I was ruining the dance for Achilles and Gia, as they both stared at me for very different reasons. Even just chatting Lila up was enough to make a point. But I had a feeling I was going to persuade her. I knew want when I saw it in someone’s face.
Lila’s throat rolled with a swallow. Her gaze cut to her parents, to her brothers, then back to me. I didn’t even know if she understood what I was saying.
“I won’t let them hurt you,” I added.
I could not give two shits what would happen after I made my point, but she didn’t have to know that.
Finally, the frightened little creature put her bony hand in mine.
Ten men sprang toward me the minute our hands touched. Vello raised his palm, a silent order for them to stand down. They halted. You could cut the tension in the room with a butter knife. The entire ballroom watched in horror as I escorted her to the dance floor, like leading a newborn lamb to slaughter.
I stopped next to Achilles and Gia and assumed a waltz position. Lila was stiff in my arms, disoriented.
“Do you know how to waltz?” I asked.
She stared at me dumbly, blinking.
“Do you know how to talk?” I stifled a groan.
Another horrified blink.
With a sigh of annoyance, I planted her heeled feet on top of mine and started moving. She didn’t know how to dance. Didn’t know how to speak. But I watched the way her eyes glimmered. Her lips twitched.
She was no fool and definitely not intellectually challenged.
What the fuck was her family playing at?
Vello had his eye on us the entire time. So did every other man in the Camorra.
Achilles and Gia shuffled closer until we were almost shoulder to shoulder.
“Every Achilles has his heel,” I said and grinned. “I think I just found yours.”
“You’ve crossed the line.” He bared his teeth at me.
“Impossible. I have no lines when it comes to my wife,” I responded. “I thought I made that clear last time we spoke.”
“She has an intellectual disability.” Achilles spun Gia expertly to distract her from our hushed conversation.
Blinding, searing jealousy struck me. I was unaccustomed to that emotion. To any emotion. My stomach churned and twisted. I did not like what the sight of Gia in another man’s arms did to me.