Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90618 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
I spread my arms and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know.”
“Yeah.” She chewed on her lip for a second then shook her head. “It doesn’t matter, okay? We’re not doing this and that’s final.”
I watched her pretty face for a long moment and I could see the tension and the anxiety. I knew she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I knew her body kept telling her to give into my advances, to let me give her all the pleasure she knew I could make her feel. But she wasn’t ready for it, not yet at least. The wounds were too fresh, everything was too new.
I could respect that. For now, at least.
She was mine, after all, and I’d have her sooner or later.
“Get back to work,” I said finally, picking up the rag and tossing it at her. “That display needs wiping. And the counters.”
“Doesn’t anyone else work here?” she asked.
“Staff comes in at five thirty.” I checked my watch. “We have twenty minutes. Get wiping, little Aida.”
She glared at me then softened. “Fine. But I’m having another coffee and a pastry when we’re done.”
“Works for me.” I picked up my espresso and sipped it, savoring the frothed milk and the rich coffee. “I have some meetings here this morning, so you can hang around. After that, I’m taking you back to my house. I’m sure Gino misses you already.”
She shrugged and turned toward the display case. “Works for me.”
I watched her spray it down, her lean, tight body moving in quick and precise lines, before turning back to the counter and getting to work.
6
Aida
Every morning for a week, he brought me to the bakery and put me to work.
At first, I was exhausted all the time. But I quickly realized that if I just went to bed earlier, I’d get almost enough sleep. By the fourth day, I was starting to get the hang of things.
I hated to admit it, but I looked forward to those hours between four thirty and eight in the morning. He’d show up, call me downstairs, and we’d drive in together. We’d talk about nothing, TV shows and movies we liked, and I quickly realized that we shared really similar taste in things. That surprised me, because he didn’t seem like the kind of guy that liked that sort of stuff.
“How do you have time to watch TV?” I asked him on the morning of the third day.
He grunted and shrugged. “I don’t sleep much. I watch a lot of it in bed.”
“Huh.” I frowned. “You always look well rested.”
“Guess that’s my superpower. I look well rested, even when I’m not.”
I smiled a little and looked out the window. “I think I’d rather have the opposite power,” I said, and he just laughed.
I got to know Sergio a little bit during that time, though he kept to himself for the most part. The man slaved away in that kitchen all day and all night, and lived in that bakery as far as I could tell. It was working for him though, because as soon as the doors opened, people flooded in and he always sold out everything he made. He could never bake it fast enough for the customers that streamed in.
During a couple of those mornings, I sat with Gino in a corner and sipped an espresso while people came in to speak with Dante. I thought they were all gangsters at first, until an older woman came through the door and approached his table. He stood and helped her sit very respectfully.
“What’s he doing?” I asked Gino.
“Talking to some grandma,” he grunted.
“No, I mean, I thought he was taking meetings.”
Gino frowned. “Yeah. That’s what he’s doing.”
“But I thought…” I trailed off.
Gino smiled a little. It was lopsided because of the scar on his lip, and he didn’t smile often. “Oh, I get you. No, he’s meeting with regular people. That lady lives a few doors down and comes to see him like once a week. She never asks for anything, I think she just likes to talk, and he can’t help himself. Always indulges the old bat.”
“Wait, people ask for things?”
He shrugged. “Sure. That’s what he’s doing. People in the neighborhood come and ask him for things. Some of them are already paying for his services, so they don’t need to do anything else. They’re already associates. Some of them are just normal folks, and for them he’ll do one favor for free, but after that he’ll start asking for things in return.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Like the Godfather. One day, he might ask for a favor…”
Gino shook his head. “Nah, not like that. If they’re not useful, he won’t do shit for them. He’s not a moron.”
I leaned back and watched as Dante smiled at the old woman and let her take his hand and hold it between her own tanned, wrinkled fingers. She wore a navy-blue sweater over gray pants and had a brown cane leaned up against the table. Her shock of curly white hair stood on the top of her head like a mushroom. Dante listened to her speak, nodded, spoke back, and eventually escorted her back out the door. He sat down and a man wearing a business suit approached, sat, and began to speak.