Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98469 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Up until that day, I’d thought my father loved my mother—despite how shitty he treated her—but when I saw him go into a room with a woman who wasn’t her, making her scream so loud that I could hear it through the walls, I’d realized my father wasn’t capable of loving anyone or anything that didn’t help push his agenda.
“For one,” Dad said, snapping me from my thoughts, “you know Daniella Russo?”
“Lorenzo’s baby sister?” I asked in confusion, unsure of what she had to do with anything.
Dad always said this was a man’s world and girls like my mom and sister, Brielle, belonged at home. I wasn’t sure if I agreed since my mom was one of the smartest women I knew—even if she preferred to act stupid around my dad—but I wouldn’t ever argue with him, not if I wanted my heart to continue beating.
“Yes,” Dad said with a grin that sent chills up my spine. “Once she’s of age, you’re going to marry her.”
“What the fuck? Why?”
“Watch your fucking tone with me, boy,” Dad warned. “Before you were born, an agreement was made between Giuseppe, Joseph, and me,” he explained. “You will marry Daniella, and your sister will marry Anthony.”
“But you don’t even like Joseph,” I accused.
I might’ve only been sixteen, but everyone knew about Joseph knocking up his now wife, Maria, when Giuseppe had been in love with her. Apparently, it was a drunken mistake, but Joseph wasn’t about to abort his own flesh and blood. So, they got married, and she had his baby.
Giuseppe and Joseph had refused to let it ruin their business partnership, but when Dad and Giuseppe were alone, they talked shit about how much they couldn’t stand Joseph and that he was untrustworthy.
“That’s neither here nor there,” Dad said, his cold gray eyes locking with mine. “We agreed that our families would come together for the sake of power, and I am nothing if not a man of my word.”
“But she’s only a baby,” I pointed out.
“She won’t always be young,” Dad deadpanned. “And once she’s old enough, you will marry her and produce an heir, forever linking our families.”
“No way!” I argued. “I’m not doing that, and you can’t fucking make me!”
I knew the grave error I’d made the second my dad stood and grabbed me by my throat, shoving me against the wall.
“Yes, you will, Dominick,” he said, his voice menacing yet unbothered. “You will marry Daniella, just like your sister will marry Anthony. And you want to know why?”
He didn’t wait for me to answer.
“You both will do as you’re told because if you don’t, then you’re no good to me, and what do I do to people I have no use for?”
When I didn’t answer him quick enough, he tightened his hold on my throat, cutting off the air supply to my lungs.
“What do I do?” he demanded.
“You kill them,” I choked out.
After Dad was done threatening me, he calmly explained that he, Giuseppe, and Joseph were a force to be reckoned with, but united, they would become the three most powerful families in Harbor Point—the city we live in,—and one day, if they continued down that path, they would be the most powerful families in South Florida, maybe even the East Coast.
They didn’t know how it would play out when they made the deal, but once the girls were born, they decided Brielle would marry Anthony since Giuseppe and Joseph didn’t get along, and because I was the oldest, that left me with Daniella.
I would respect him if it wasn’t for the fact that he wasn’t even loyal to his own family. He cheats on Mom and is willing to sell his own flesh and blood for power, and I wouldn’t put it past him to kill us all for going against him. He takes being a psychopath to another level.
Hell, once, when Matteo was younger, he said he wanted to be a marine biologist after learning about the ocean in school, and our father tortured him for a week, saying that if he wasn’t part of the family business, he might as well be dead. After that, Matteo never again mentioned wanting to do anything other than work for our father.
“I need to get going,” I tell Matteo, pocketing my wallet and keys. “Since Lorenzo is using the plane, I have to fly commercial. So, if you need to get ahold of me, text me. I don’t even know if those planes allow for phone calls.”
Like the dick he is, Matteo laughs, knowing I hate flying anything but private.
With how insane my life is, I crave consistency and order. And commercial flights are anything but. Add to that how dirty they are—with the thousands of people sitting in the seats, kids with their snot and germs—and I avoid them at all cost.