Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
I was certain I’d never been so uncomfortable in my life.
Leo started to devour his food just the way Wolfe did when I cooked for him at home.
Wolfe gestured to the plate, asking me to serve myself. “Ladies first.”
It was a cool evening, but I started to sweat like I was in a sauna. My father was smart, observant, and had the intuition of a woman, so he might pick up on something between us. But judging from the uncontrollable smirk on Wolfe’s lips, he didn’t give a damn about that.
He was having the time of his life.
I grabbed my fork and spun it in the pasta while Wolfe served himself before he pushed the dish farther down to the head of the table where my father could reach it.
“You still driving from Palermo every day?” Leo asked as he ate with his elbows on the table.
“Sometimes,” Wolfe answered honestly. “Gonna look at a few places tomorrow. Just a couple miles down the road.”
“Nice,” Leo said.
“Are you in the village?” Wolfe asked, knowing full well my brother lived on the property.
“No, I’m farther out,” he said as he looked over the edge of the patio. “Way the fuck out there.”
“Must be a nice commute.”
“I used to live in the village. Preferred living above a café and down the street from a bar, but I got tired of all the driving—and the parking situation. It’s quiet out here, and the girls love it.”
“The girls, huh?” Wolfe teased.
“A lot of girls.”
Wolfe gave a quiet chuckle and continued to eat.
“You got a girl?” Leo asked with a mouthful of food.
Cristo. “Leo.”
“What?” my brother asked. “Just making conversation.”
Wolfe took a bite and chewed, and then he looked right at me, head on, with a hint of that possessiveness he constantly showed. “I’m working on it.”
It was as if he wanted to get caught.
My father loaded this plate with the shrimp scampi pasta and then grabbed a few pieces of bread. “Everything looks great, Frankie.”
“Thanks, Dad,” I said.
Elio served himself next.
My father took a couple bites then looked at Wolfe. “What do you think about handling Luigi’s operations, Wolfe?”
Wolfe ripped his slice of bread in half and dragged it through the sauce on his plate. “Whatever you want, boss.” Now that my father was paying attention to him, he looked at him instead of me. He put the bread in his mouth and chewed, all the strong muscles of his jaw working, his jawline even sharper when it was momentarily flexed.
I could finally breathe.
“But we might want to consider our other options,” Wolfe said.
“What do you mean?” Dad asked.
I could tell by the type of question and his tone that my father had already had a drastic change in attitude about Wolfe. He spoke to him like Elio, allowed a dialogue to take place, when he normally just issued orders.
“With the Skull King trying to monopolize the drug empire, all the players in the game are changing their cards. It might be smart to expand our arms operations with their facilities and drop the coke business altogether.” Wolfe said all of it casually as he ate, like this wasn’t heavy talk over dinner. “I think there’s a major shakeup on the horizon. Doubling down on our corner of the market might be the smart way to go. Make sure we have an exclusive partnership with the Americans. And if they don’t want to be exclusive, we make them be exclusive.” He sliced off a shrimp tail with his fork and popped it into his mouth before he spun his fork in another pool of pasta.
“It’s always smart to diversify,” Elio said.
“And it’s smart to stay out of the Skull King’s way. The guy is crazy.” He took another bite of his bread. “I mean, crazier than me—and that’s saying something.”
I focused on my food as I listened to their conversation, relieved everyone was absorbed in a topic instead of watching Wolfe eye-fuck me across the table right in front of my father.
“You are diversified with your wine,” Wolfe said. “But do whatever you want. You’re the one in charge. I’m always ready to follow orders.”
One of the oddest things about Wolfe was the fact that he worked for someone else. He had the energy and the authority of someone in charge, and based on the way he’d handled Lombardi the other night, he seemed more like a leader than a follower. And he was the most arrogant man I’d ever met, completely egotistical, but he had no problem being told what to do. It didn’t make any sense.
When my father turned quiet, I knew he was really thinking about what Wolfe said.
Then my father turned his attention on me. “Frankie, I’m going to have you absorb the books for the Lombardis in the meantime. You’re better at making sense of other men’s nonsense than I am.”