Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82121 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 328(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
“Then the city’s ours again,” Carlo adds. “Well, at least partially ours. I guess we’re still allied with the Rinaldo Famiglia. And the fucking Milano Famiglia can suck my ass.”
“Nobody wants to suck your ass,” Gian says, elbowing him.
“There are a lot of steps between here and there.” I force myself to stop pacing because it’s clearly bothering my brothers. “I guess I’m the only one sick of going home and trying to get bloodstains off my clothes.”
Both of them look at me. Carlo shakes his head and Gian sighs.
“You’re far from alone, bro,” Carlo says. “It’s just, what’s the use in getting worked up? This is our life now. We fight until the fight is done.”
I know he’s right. I shouldn’t be getting this stressed out. It’s just that I’m already breaking so many fucking rules by marrying Molly without Renzo’s permission, without even telling him, and I don’t break rules. Gian, Carlo, that shit’s for them—I’ve always been the one that does the right thing.
Now I’m doing the wrong thing, and it feels fucking great.
That’s the twisted part of all this.
I’m betraying my family’s trust, and I like it.
Carlo and Gian head back inside to deal with the prisoners. I get in my truck and drive back home, taking my time, thinking about my predicament. Molly keeps asking why I want to be married to her, what I’m getting out of it, and I keep telling her the truth: I’m getting a wife and a child. It’s that fucking simple. Except I know Renzo won’t see it that way.
She’s awake when I get home. I head to the laundry room first, strip off my soiled shirt, and toss it in the washer. I’ll deal with the stain in earnest tomorrow. When I turn around, she’s standing in the doorway wearing an old white t-shirt that’s practically see-through and a pair of old shorts.
“You okay?” she asks, looking toward the machine behind me. “That’s not your blood, is it?”
“Not my blood,” I confirm. “No broken ribs this time either.”
“That’s good.” She steps into the room.
I walk over to her, covering the distance, and pull her against me. Fuck all my stress and fuck this tension between us. I stare down at her, one hand on her back, the other gripping her ass possessively. I’m going to spend the next few months fighting and nearly dying, and I want to take advantage of every moment I have above ground while I can. I finally have a reason to keep going, but she makes me want to give up the fight if only so I can have more precious time with her. It’s fucked and makes me weak, but that’s what she does to me.
I kiss her gently. She sighs and pulls my face to hers, smothering my mouth, opening her lips to take my tongue against hers. I stay in that kiss and push away all my negative thoughts. No Renzo, no wars, no brothers, no expectations or worries. There’s just Molly. My pregnant wife.
“Welcome home,” she says when we break the kiss apart and she’s smiling.
“Were you worried?”
“Not at all.”
“Liar. You were a total wreck, weren’t you?”
“Nope, I was sleeping like a baby.” She does a fake yawn. “Super exhausted.”
I growl and squeeze her ass. “Wake up. I’m home now.”
“So what? Big deal. You’re always hanging around.” She looks at me through heavy lids. “Why should I stay awake for you?”
“I’ll make it very worth your time.”
“And how’s that?”
I kiss her again, and this time I drag her upstairs with me. She’s laughing when I push her onto the bed, which I note is very much not rumpled or even touched yet, and strip off her clothes. I keep wondering if the worries will come back, but they remain at bay, evaporated for the night. I can focus on her, on my wife, on her body, on her voice and her moans, on her needs. I give her as much as I can—which is a hell of a lot.
Chapter 19
Molly
I’m a routine girl. Nana used to give me shit for it all the time. I like my life in order: wake up, brush teeth, make coffee, do it all again tomorrow. I’m shocked at how quickly I fall into old habits with Saul and how normal it all feels. I never expected to forget that I’m married to a mobster, to a guy I barely know, to a freaking Italian underboss.
Except to me, he’s only my husband.
I work at the diner. He drops me off when he can and picks me up when he’s around, but otherwise he makes sure there’s a driver waiting for me on both ends. I visit Nana every other day and talk to Jason on the phone all the time. They’ve adapted to life without me, though I suspect the constant groceries and cigarettes are making a difference.