Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
“When the police couldn’t do anything more, my father almost went insane looking for that necklace. He put out feelers all over the world, all over the internet. But the necklace never showed up, and her death remains unsolved.” I stare out the window at the mountainside dense with trees and low cloud cover. “My father was never the same again. I suppose I wasn’t either.”
At the time, it was too much to understand. I was a young girl on the precipice of adolescence, at an age when I needed my mom the most. My father didn’t know what to do with me, so he put me in the charge of the housekeeper and threw money and things at me to make up for his absence, not knowing what else to do. If I cried, I got jewelry. If he felt bad for missing a school event or something important—which was always—I got a trip away, or clothes, or makeup, or anything of monetary value that showed how much he loved me. It’s no wonder I became a spoilt brat when the teenage hormones kicked in. Buying things kept the pain at bay. Just far enough away for me to pretend it wasn’t even there. People die. But expensive things are forever.
Now when I look back, it’s with shame. And it’s taken losing everything to shed that suffocating skin of privilege and entitlement, and for me to be able to see it.
I turn my head to look at Massimo. “I know who I am, and I don’t want to be her anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said it yourself. I’m a spoilt Mafia princess.” I let out a shaky breath. “And I don’t want to be her.”
“I shouldn’t have called you that.”
“No, you were right. I am a spoilt brat.”
“There are more layers to you than you give yourself credit for. If you think you’re just a spoilt brat, then you are not who you think you are.”
“You’re just saying that to be nice.”
“I don’t do nice very well, little monster.”
I can’t help but smile. Massimo has the crazy ability to make every situation better, and in that moment, there is so much I want to tell him. That I am so grateful for him and for what he’s done for me in these last few months. That the last ten years of my life seem so shallow and vapid, and that despite all the shit that’s gone down in the last year, these last few weeks with him have been the happiest in my life.
But I don’t get a chance, because up ahead, a beat-up red truck is parked on the shoulder, and Massimo turns off the road to pull up behind it.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
But Massimo is annoyingly vague. “Grab your things.”
I do as he says and climb out, grabbing my overnight bag from the back seat.
A huge man climbs out of the red truck. And when I say he’s huge, I mean he’s massive, with muscles for miles. He’s wearing a lumberjack shirt and jeans, and has long, messy hair tangling around a weathered-but-handsome face.
He greets Massimo as if they’re old friends.
“Bianca, this is Axel. He and his wife Lauren live on the mountain.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” I say, still in the dark about what is happening.
He gives me a friendly nod. “Ma’am.”
“From this point onward, we’ll be using Axel’s truck,” Massimo explains. “Everybody knows everybody on the mountain so we want to blend in as much as we can.”
Axel and Massimo swap keys.
“I’ll keep the Escalade in my garage until you need it back,” Axel says. “And if you need anything, you know where to find me.”
Massimo and I climb into the old truck, which is a stark contrast to the well-appointed interior of the Escalade, and Massimo starts the engine. It clunks and thuds and finally comes alive with a deep rumble. Axel drives away, and Massimo pulls onto the road, and we’re off again, heading toward our secret location.
“So who was that guy?” I ask.
“Axel and I used to know each other a long time ago. He’s ex-military and used to work as a bodyguard.”
“He’s very dark and mysterious.”
“He’s just cautious. A few years back he was done for murder.”
“Wait, what?”
“He was accused of murdering his client. He was innocent, but when his affair with his client came to light, well, the press had a field day. The prosecutors followed. He went to prison for it.”
“But they found him innocent eventually, right? Otherwise, how is he out?”
“He escaped prison and lived on the lam for a long time. Came out here because it’s easy to disappear on the mountain. But then he went and kidnapped Lauren, his now wife, to save her from her fiancé, and the police found him.”
“Hold on, back up. He kidnapped Lauren?”