Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 82332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82332 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Hey, Lina!”
I smile because that’s who I am now. Lina.
“Hi, Mrs. Davies,” I call back, walking towards her.
“I told you to call me Flora,” she chastises making me smile.
“Flora,” I murmur.
Flora Davies is a pleasantly plump, gray haired, woman who is old enough to be my grandmother—and exactly the type of grandmother I wish I had. When she smiles the room lights up. She wears these long dresses and this pretty green shawl all the time—even when it’s hot.
Flora operates a flower cart here in town. She’s an American who moved here with her Greek husband. He died a few years back and she started the flower cart because she said she was going out of her mind, sitting home alone. I met her because she owns the cottage I’m renting and that’s what made me decide to try my luck here. She made me feel cared for.
I’ve never had that.
“I saw these daisies in my greenhouse this morning and I thought of you. They’re so sunny and cheerful, just like you.”
“They’re beautiful,” I murmur, taking the small bouquet of flowers from her and bringing it up to my face so I can smell them. They’re yellow and white and the blooms are bigger than any I’ve ever seen.
“The Mister, God rest his soul, began growing them for me because they made me happy. Back home they would grow wild in the fields. He said he grew them so that I wouldn’t get homesick.”
“How much do I owe you?” I ask, reaching down in my pocket.
“They’re free, dear. It’s just one less bouquet I need to worry about tonight when I close up shop. Besides they will look beautiful on your table.”
“I tell you what, if you agree to come have dinner with me tonight, I’ll accept the flowers.”
“You’ve worked all day. I don’t want you making dinner for me,” she argues.
“I have dinner already cooking in a crockpot and there’s more than enough there for the two of us. Please?”
She smiles. “It’s a date.”
“Good! I’ll see you then.” On impulse, I reach out and hug her. I close my eyes when she hugs me back. For a minute, I allow myself to pretend that she is my grandmother and I’m loved. It’s silly, I know, but I can’t help it.
We say our goodbyes and I continue walking down the small street. I take a deep breath, enjoying the sea air. I’m happy here, I really am. I’d be lying if I didn’t admit I still think about Antonio. It’s silly, but it’s true. Sometimes when I sleep at night, I dream about him. I like to fantasize that he does the same. I doubt he does, but it makes me feel better just the same.
Eventually, he’ll be nothing more than a pleasant memory—a reminder of a time when I was truly free. Then, this ache for him won’t be so bad. It’s probably only this bad because I’ve never been with another man, and he was my first.
At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
antonio
One Week Later
The last few weeks have been hell. Losing Max is a blow that I’m not sure I will fully recover from. He was a second father to me. Watching Emilia at the private funeral nearly decimated me because I remember those feelings. I held her hand and tried to be there for her—because that’s what Max did for me.
Her feelings are too tender for what comes next. Tonight, is a public funeral—but it truly is only for a show. We’re not even going to have Maxwell there. He was laid to rest yesterday. This will be a fake service with a closed casket. The only purpose is to trap a traitor. It cuts me that one of my own is behind not only Maxwell’s death, but the death of one of my top Capo’s. I’ve suspected it for quite a while, but I have proof now—not because of anything my men have recovered, but from a direction that Emilia gave me. She’s turning out to be as smart as her father. She’s the perfect woman to have at your side in this world. I suspect that’s why Niko fought so hard to get out of his coma.
As it always does lately, my mind turns back to Melina. I don’t know why this woman is sticking with me. I could blame it on the fact she was a virgin, but that’s not it. Fuck if I can define what it is, I just know I want her again. Hell, I have men in Greece looking for her now. They’re using a grainy ass picture we got from a security camera picture and tracking her down. Or, I should say, they’re trying. So far there’s been no trace of her. I’m determined to find her, though. I won’t stop.