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)
“Does it hurt?” I ask.
She closes her eyes and shakes her head. “Only my pride. I should have seen the warning signs. I knew he was spinning out of control, I just never thought he’d actually want to hurt me.”
“You couldn’t have known.”
If anything, I should have seen it.
Marco has been self-destructing since his father pulled the plug on his free and easy lifestyle. The pressure of carrying on his family’s legacy crushed his hubris, and his failures have been catastrophic. He’s lost several of their biggest clients, fucked up deals that were practically handed to him, and made a mockery of himself.
Over the past few weeks alone, his mistakes have cost the company and their clients millions of dollars, not to mention the reputational damage. Marco sunk cash into risky ventures, rushed deals without due diligence, and refused to cut losses when he should have. Now his father is left to weather the fallout.
On the surface, Marco is naturally charismatic, but he’s also a chameleon. He can charm a room and talk a good game, selling a different version of himself to every person he meets. With me, he presented himself as loyal and fearless. But beneath the mask, his loyalty is actually entitlement, and his fearlessness is performative.
He’s empty inside, and people don’t often realize that until it’s too late. But even so, there are some lines I thought he’d never cross.
Tonight, he proved me wrong.
“You knew he was cheating, didn’t you?” Chantel asks.
“I told him he needed to come clean.”
“Why?” She frowns. “Doesn’t that go against your bro code or whatever?”
“I don’t cover for liars and cheats.” My gaze drifts to the marks on her arms. “Or men who hurt women.”
She’s quiet as I check the back of her head for swelling.
“Any pain here?”
“No.” Her voice softens.
Tonight, there’s a vulnerability in her she doesn’t often show. But the moment she realizes I’ve noticed it, she disengages and leans back, reverting to the familiarity of her armor.
“I didn’t love him.” She glances down and smooths her fingers over her dress. “So you shouldn’t feel sorry for me.”
“I don’t.”
She doesn’t miss the edge in my tone, and I can feel her studying me as I retrieve her weapon from the table. The fixed-blade push dagger isn’t an accessory. It’s double-edged with a skeletonized handle designed for a low profile. Against my better judgment, my curiosity won’t be sated until I know exactly where she carries it.
“Where does this belong?”
She drags the hem of her dress up with one finger, revealing a garter-style holster. My eyes trace over the black leather bands curving around her thigh, and something hot pulses through my veins.
The sight triggers my most primal instincts, two of which are currently at war. The realization that someone made her feel this unsafe fills me with a thirst for violence. But it also has the unfortunate effect of stirring a hunger I’ve tried in vain to repress.
I secure the blade back in its sheath, careful not to let my fingers touch her skin.
As I remove the dome from the tray and slide the table in front of her, an uncomfortable feeling lingers in my chest.
“Eat.”
“Why are you always telling me what to do?” She appraises me.
“Why are you always doing what I tell you?”
The faintest hint of a flush crawls down her throat before she turns her attention to the plate, her brows creasing in confusion.
“Strawberry waffles? Do you really have those on the menu here?”
I avoid that landmine by retrieving my phone and texting Angelo. A minute later, there’s a knock at the door, and I leave Chantel to eat while I join him in the corridor.
“We’re in business,” he says. “Henri has agreed to work with us.”
I nod, but something feels off, and Angelo seems to agree.
“It was suspiciously easy,” he says.
“Ares is definitely up to something,” I mutter. “There’s no way he’s not keeping tabs on Henri while he’s in Seattle. He wouldn’t let him walk in here tonight if he didn’t have a plan.”
“My guess is he’s making moves on the port itself,” Angelo says. “If he doesn’t get control over the distribution networks, it won’t matter when he can effectively eliminate us doing business there. We need to get Bastien onboard.”
Tension crawls up the base of my spine as I consider the fallout if this doesn’t go to plan.
Right now, the Cosa Nostra dominates the European market, but there’s been a major shake-up in the Corsican syndicate. Under Bastien’s leadership, the French have managed to secure control of port operations and Customs in Marseille. That port opens up opportunities for expansion, high-end logistics, and money laundering.
This is a pivotal shift in a previously untapped area, and every major Mafia outfit will be vying for the opportunity to secure it. But the biggest threat is the perpetual thorns in our side known as the Stavros family.