Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88182 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Shawn showed me the ropes. Every foster family’s got quirks, and ours was no different. They gathered lost urchins like fucking toys, jamming them into bunks and collecting the state payments. When the inspections rolled around, we made damn sure everything looked spotless, otherwise Old Man Fuckface (I can’t remember his real name anymore) would go to town on everyone with his belt while Old Lady Fuckface shouted insults. Shawn taught me how to scrub, how to bleach, how to comb my hair and smile real sweet for the inspector girl, and if we did all that, we were left alone.
We got into trouble, obviously. I found the crews and Shawn came with me. In those days it was mostly gambling and underground street fights. We helped take bets and after a while we were trusted enough to touch actual money. We took home more cash than we ever imagined, and I only got stabbed once. I don’t know how, but I must’ve caught the eye of Augustus Fontana, because his people started inviting me to small jobs in the area. Shit like knocking over liquor stores and intimidating drunks late on their interest payments.
Shawn was the only guy I ever trusted. Aside from that first day, he never betrayed me, never let me down, and never judged. We went through hell together.
If he were still here, I’d have him sitting by my side, drinking my best bourbon, and telling stories about the old days. Maybe we’d laugh about that shit now, who knows.
Instead, I got an empty room and a bottle and not much else.
Stellan offered to be my best man but that was never a realistic option. The leader of the Corsetti Mafia can’t get involved in a marriage service, not without raising a few eyebrows and getting comments from the other Capos.
Which leaves me stewing in my own frustrated misery, not even sure why I’m so angry. I’m getting married to a good woman, a smart, independent, strong woman, fucking beautiful too, and I don’t deserve her in the slightest. I should be down on my knees thanking God for Valentina.
Instead, my stomach’s a wreck whenever I think about her.
There’s a knock at the door. I grunt and Deanna enters, a pen tucked behind her ear, that stupid clipboard back. “How are you holding up?” Her gaze settles on my drink. “Don’t tell me you’re drunk already, Prime?”
“Sober as a judge.” I take a long sip. “Most judges I know are notorious drunks and bastards, by the way.”
She looks down at her notes, visibly trying not to get annoyed. “Guests are arriving. Ceremony starts in a half hour. They’re passing food and drinks right now. You should probably consider going out there.”
“Probably,” I agree.
“Valentina’s still getting dressed. She looks amazing, by the way. If you insist on hiding in here, I’ll send someone to get you when it’s time.”
“You know where to find me then.”
“Aren’t you interested in your wedding at all?”
“Not particularly.” I wiggle the bottle at her. “Want some? It’s the good stuff. I know you worked hard. You earned a double shot.”
“Tempting, and thank you for acknowledging my contributions toward today, but I’d better stay sober. Someone’s got to be.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Nothing, it means you’re hitting that hard, is all.”
“But you said someone. Is my future wife also fortifying herself with God’s sweet nectar?”
Her nose wrinkles in that cute as fuck way. “Don’t call it that. I shouldn’t tell you this, but Valentina’s having a few glasses of wine, that’s all. And you know what? I don’t blame her. This is stressful.”
I gaze toward the window. I never imagined how Valentina was feeling right now. Does she understand who I am? And who we’re getting married in front of today? Stellan will be in the crowd, of course, but so will half the Corsetti outfit alongside several other powerful and influential criminals. Is she afraid? Nervous something bad might happen? Or is this only normal pre-wedding jitters?
“Hey, Prime, are you listening? I asked, do you know where the ring is?”
I pat my jacket pocket. “Right here.”
“Good. Hold on to it. Actually, you know what—“ She walks over and stoops down. A shiver runs down my spine. Deanna’s wearing black silk, a strangely sober outfit for a wedding, but I’m guessing she’s trying to blend in with the staff since she’s the one running the show. Her top shows a hint of her beautiful chest and I glance at the lovely skin, mouth watering.
She opens my jacket, reaches in, and takes the ring herself.
“I’d better—”
I grab onto her wrist. She tenses in surprise and I don’t let go.
“Let me ask you something.” My voice is low and smokey, a rumble grinding out from my chest. Emotions flicker under the ice-dam of my heart like black shadows in the arctic deep. “Am I ruining this girl? Am I fucking up today?”