Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83248 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 416(@200wpm)___ 333(@250wpm)___ 277(@300wpm)
They might be very unhappy, but they’re wise enough to keep their mouths shut.
Leaving Pino, one of our captains who was just promoted, in charge, I walk to the exit of the warehouse.
Just then, my phone rings, and sighing, I pull the device out. Seeing Alessio’s name, I answer, “What?”
“Can you come to the fortress? Rosie isn’t responding to my request to enter so I can do a sweep of the building.”
“On my way.” The instant I get into the Mustang, my phone connects to the dashboard screen. “Call Rosie,” I order.
I listen as it rings before going to voicemail. ‘I’m busy. You know what to do.’
Worried, I slam the Mustang into first gear and floor the gas. The tires squeal, leaving smoke hanging in the air as I speed away from the warehouse.
What’s supposed to be a twenty-minute drive from the warehouse to Rosie’s fortress, I reduce to ten minutes and a handful of fines from all the traffic laws I break.
Alessio stands armed with a submachine gun at the entrance when I bring the Mustang to a stop, and as I jump out and draw my own weapon, he says, “She’s still not answering.”
I scan my biometrics and only wait for the steel door to lift enough for us to duck beneath it, then I run for the elevator and key in my code. Alessio joins me a second later, and with every security hoop I have to jump through, my impatience and worry grow.
She’s not even smart-mouthing me on the way up, which she always does.
When the second elevator’s door slides open to her command center, an alarm beeps incessantly. I rush inside, and seeing Rosie slumped over her desk, looking fast asleep, I let out a harsh breath of relief.
“It’s okay, Alessio. I’ll let you out,” I say so he’ll leave.
I type in my code to silence the alarm that was activated when Rosie didn’t respond to Alessio’s request to enter. It’s meant to wake her up in case of an emergency.
This is not the first time she’s worked herself sick, and I’ve had to deal with the consequences several times before.
I should’ve known this was coming when I saw her in the same clothes yesterday morning. Fuck knows how long she pushed herself before she passed out.
Making sure Alessio leaves, I send out a group text to everyone.
Enzo: Rosie has crashed and will be offline for the next two days. Survive on your own.
Putting my phone away, I grab the central remote Rosie is obsessed with having on her at all times and also shove it into my pocket. Hooking an arm beneath her knees and another around her back, I lift her to my chest.
Her head slumps against my shoulder, and she mumbles something unintelligible.
“You overdid it again,” I snap as I walk to the elevator and ride down to the seventh floor.
“Gonna puke,” she groans, and when she begins to move, I say, “Try to hold it in for a few seconds longer.”
The doors open into her apartment, and I haul ass to the nearest restroom.
Rosie’s body jerks, and just as I set her down on her feet, she loses the contents of her stomach, which are only fluids. Some of it lands on her shirt, and gripping the back of her neck, I position her over the toilet.
Fuck knows when she last ate something. Probably the goddamn carrots yesterday morning.
While I wait for her to stop heaving, anger swirls in my chest.
Knowing she won’t take in anything I say right now, I keep quiet, and once she seems okay, I grab toilet paper and clean her mouth and shirt before I flush the toilet.
“Sorry,” she whispers, swaying a little.
Picking her up again, I head straight to her bedroom and only stop when I put her down in the shower.
“I’ve got it,” she mumbles, and when I don’t move, her bloodshot eyes meet mine. “I’ll be quick.”
“Five minutes, then I’m coming in,” I say, my tone tense with anger because she has once again put everyone before her own fucking health.
I leave the bathroom and pull the door shut behind me. Leaning against it, I rub my hand over my face and let out a tired sigh.
It’s not all Rosie’s fault. No one gives her a moment’s peace. Whenever a request or order comes through from the rest of the family, she has to do it. She carries the entire fucking Cosa Nostra on her shoulders.
Rosie didn’t even finish her fucking haircut yesterday.
I shake my head, very unhappy with how hard she’s pushing herself. Listening to the water running, I rein in my anger.
When the shower switches off, I hear Rosie moving around, then she asks, “Can you pass me a pair of sweatpants and a shirt, please?”
“Okay.” I push away from the door and walk into her closet.