Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
She understands what it’s like to experience the kind of betrayal that fundamentally changes who you are. In my case, it fractured me so deeply I’m not sure it can ever be repaired. Most days, I feel like I’m just cosplaying as a fully capable and functional adult.
While my other friends think I’m a strong, confident woman, Mariella recognizes the cracks beneath the surface. She notices the uncertainty in my eyes when I tell them everything’s okay, I’m fine, and I have nothing to worry about.
I share more of myself with her because she was there for me at my lowest. And while trust is difficult for me, I know she will never betray my confidence.
“I take it these plans don’t include Marco?” she hedges.
My stomach turns at the mention of his name. “God, no. If I never see him again, it will be too soon.”
“What happened?” She frowns.
I give her the condensed version of his behavior over the past few months and the culmination of everything that happened tonight. When I finish, she looks like she’s contemplating a trip to the city to murder him right now.
“That fucking asshole,” she mutters under her breath. “Say the word, and I’ll make him disappear.”
“I know you would.” I laugh. “But I just want to move on and forget I ever made the terrible decision to sort-of-date him in the first place.”
“Why did you?” she asks.
“He was predictable.” I shrug. “Before he went off the rails, I knew exactly what I was getting.”
“You mean predictably disappointing?”
“Something like that.”
“I get it.” She sighs. “Sometimes it’s tempting to find someone I know I could never love. Maybe I should take a page out of your book.”
“Just don’t choose someone like Marco. Ten out of ten don’t recommend.”
Mariella laughs. “I never liked him, but I also understood. He was hot. Smooth-brained, but hot.”
“So incredibly smooth-brained.” I bite back a smile. “I want to tell you not to settle for someone like that, but honestly, I don’t know a single man who could ever be worthy of you.”
She shrugs, but I get the impression that praise feels hollow and probably always will. She grew up in a family of men who had predetermined roles of importance. As the don’s daughter, her only expectation was being a Mafia princess.
Mariella was never happy with that because she knew she was just as capable as her brothers. So with her father’s blessing, she set out to prove herself and excelled at everything she did.
She became a doctor, a master violinist, a weapons expert, and created a global network to help victims of abuse. But no matter how much she accomplished, her father never told her what she needed to hear the most. That she matters. That what she does is important. That she’s a shining beacon of hope in a world of darkness. We could all tell her these absolute truths until we’re blue in the face, but they’ll never validate her in the way that he should have.
“Hey, I have an idea.” I curl my knees into my chest and lean back against the lounge. “I’ll be your baby daddy if you want, and you can be mine. I can teach them how to dance, and you can teach them how to kill a man with their bare hands.”
Mariella smirks. “I mean, how could I say no to that?”
“I just need a willing sperm donor,” I muse.
My phone chimes, and I glance down to see a message from Bran.
“Are you going to make me guess who’s texting you so late?” Mariella asks.
“You remember that guy I mentioned from the club?”
“Bran something?”
I nod, and she arches a brow.
“Well, if that isn’t divine timing, I don’t know what is,” she says.
“What do you mean?”
“There’s your sperm donor.”
I laugh at the idea and shake my head. “I’m pretty sure the man knows how neurotic I am by now. I think he’d be the last to volunteer.”
I mean it as a joke, but as I say it, there’s a slight hitch in my voice. Things with Bran will always feel complicated and unfinished, and there’s a certain level of guilt that comes with that.
“I didn’t realize you were still talking to him,” Mariella replies.
“We’ve stayed in touch as friends. Our conversations don’t stray outside of that, and Marco knew we talked.”
“You never really told me what happened with him.” She eyes me with a curious expression.
I offer her a weary smile. She and Marco are the only two people who even know about Bran. In Marco’s case, it was for transparency, but Mariella just happened to catch me texting him once. At the time, I gave her the short and simple version about matching with him through The Society’s sex club.
Now, that chapter of my life feels like so long ago, even though it’s only been three years. Sometimes, when I try to remember his voice or the faintest glimpse of his eyes behind the mask, I’m not sure he ever even existed. I locked those memories so deep inside me, I don’t think I’ll ever get them back.