Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84446 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 338(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
They were behind and around me, making it impossible to turn around, but moving forward would make that alley loom closer. And these guys could easily push me into the alley and do… whatever they wanted to me.
“She’ll make it worth our while,” another voice said.
“Yo!” a voice suddenly called, making me stiffen, terrified it was another man to follow and torment me. “The fuck you think you’re doing?” he added, making my gaze turn to find, well, a god of a man jogging across the street toward us.
He was tall and fit under his black tee and jeans, an expensive-looking cross on his chest, and a watch on his wrist that looked even more pricey.
With a family like mine, I knew a thing or two about designer men’s jewelry.
But it was his gorgeous face that had my heartbeat going from a panicked hammering to an interested thrumming.
Those sharp angles, those nearly black eyes, that tanned skin.
“Get the fuck away from her,” he called, closing in on the sidewalk.
The men finally fell back, giving me enough space to actually suck in a breath.
“You can’t see she’s just a fucking kid?” he growled at the men who suddenly backed away from him, hands raised. Even though they outnumbered him.
“Whoa whoa…” one of the men said, backing up another step.
“Renzo, man, we didn’t mean no disrespect,” another said.
Renzo.
It wasn’t exactly a common name.
And this was Lombardi territory.
It had to be him.
Renzo Lombardi.
Enemy of my family.
Protecting me.
I had no reason to think he knew who I was. Sure, in Manhattan, everyone who needed to know, knew who the Costa women and girls were, and knew to stay away from them.
But we were far from Manhattan.
And I was a little old nobody to this crime family.
He had no idea I was a Costa princess.
He just knew I was a girl being harassed.
And he wanted to put an end to it.
“You think I’m gonna put up with this shit?” Renzo raged at the men as, suddenly, several other men appeared out of nowhere.
I knew enough about the mob to know guards when I saw them closing in, ready to take action.
“In my goddamn neighborhood?” Renzo asked, shoving his hands into one of the guys’ chests.
I took an instinctive step back, knowing where this was going even before the beat down started.
It was mere moments before the men who’d been harassing me were bloodied heaps on the ground thanks to Renzo and his men.
I seemed frozen on the spot, transfixed by the uncontrolled, righteous brutality of this gorgeous, strange man.
Then, suddenly, he turned, those dark eyes landing on me.
His gaze had impact.
A punch to the chest, leaving me breathless.
“You okay?” he asked, head tipped to the side.
“I… yes,” I said, voice sounding choked. “Thank you,” I added.
“For keeping you from getting harassed, kid? Nah, don’t need thanks for that,” he said, shaking his head. “Go on. You’ll be safe now,” he told me, nodding his chin toward one of his men.
With that, he turned and left.
Taking a chunk of my heart with him.
After that, I made my way back to the subway, aware of one of Renzo’s men following me the whole way.
I made the trip back to Brooklyn regularly after that. Every few months or so, when my book pile dwindled, and I felt like I had an ‘excuse’ to visit.
Even though, in my heart, I knew what I was actually doing.
Hoping to catch a sight of him.
Sometimes I was lucky, seeing him walking around, talking to people. Other times, I left feeling defeated and depressed, annoyed with myself for being so desperate.
It was a pattern I kept up until, finally, at eighteen, I forced myself to stop. To quit being so needy and pathetic and, well, creepy.
Then I tried my hardest to put my girlish crush on Renzo Lombardi behind me.
Mostly unsuccessfully, I might add. Because those dark eyes were always there in my mind, his deep voice a soothing balm on frantic days. And, well, in my sweaty, restless dreams.
But by the time I was twenty, I didn’t think about him all of the time anymore.
Until, suddenly, I walked in on a conversation in Lorenzo Costa’s—the Capo dei Capi—house one day, hearing that Renzo Lombardi wanted a marriage alliance with our family.
That one of us Costa women would need to marry him.
It all came rushing back then, those thoughts, feelings, memories.
There’d been no reasoning with me then.
It felt too much like fate.
I was going to marry the man who’d saved me once upon a time.
And here I was.
Married to him.
It was nothing like I’d dreamed of.
But I still couldn’t stop myself from thinking of him as I made my way back to the apartment where Elian was waiting, looking at my coffee and bag of books, then offering me a small smile before opening the door for me.