Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 378(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I figured it was just overwhelm and relief.
“I have to bring some stuff in through the garage, but I didn’t want to freak you out,” I told her as I moved through to the kitchen, setting the bags on the table.
By the time I made it back with the next set of bags, she was carefully organizing the clothes for Judah as he played with the big block set in bold, primary colors I’d picked up after watching him try to build with the cups earlier.
“This is too much,” she insisted by the third trip in, her eyes round.
“It’s not,” I insisted before going back for one more round before I carted in the heavy shit.
When I made it back in the last time, I caught her standing there in the kitchen, holding one of the pairs of fuzzy socks in her hands, her lower lip all wobbly.
You knew the woman’s life had to be hard when a pair of soft socks made her cry.
I didn’t say anything, didn’t want to make her insecure about it, just moved over to put a pot of coffee on, figuring I was going to need it before I built the crib and high chair.
“How do you and Judah feel about pasta?” I asked as an icebreaker.
“Pasta?” she asked, looking over.
“For dinner,” I clarified.
“It’s my favorite thing to eat,” she said. “Judah loves it, too. But we… we didn’t get to eat it much,” she admitted, eyes going dark.
So the bastard controlled her food too.
No wonder she was so fucking skinny.
“Well, you ended up at the right doorstep then, angel. Because pasta is pretty much a nightly thing in an Italian household.”
“I could cook,” she was quick to offer.
“I got it,” I told her, shaking my head. “Figure you’ll be covering breakfast and lunch for you two. The least I can do is make dinner easier. I love cooking,” I added. “It’s not a chore.”
“Well, in that case,” she said, her smile suddenly softer, sweeter, “you are free to cook as much as your heart desires. What kind of pasta are you making?”
“Alfredo?” I asked, knowing I had all the ingredients. “Throw in some chicken and broccoli to round it out.”
“That sounds perfect,” she said, beaming.
“Some homemade garlic bread to go with it.”
“You… you bake your own bread?” she asked.
“My ma made sure we knew how to feed ourselves,” I told her. “Do you cook?”
“I don’t bake my own bread, but I can throw together food. I usually only ever got to make Judah’s breakfast, though. There… there was a cook with strict instructions for our meals.”
Christ, that was controlling.
“In that case, if you could have any dessert, what would you have?”
“Brownies,” she said, without even a second of hesitation. “My mom made the best brownies ever. They’re my favorite. I don’t think Judah has ever had them,” she added, looking over at her son. “The staff used to stuff him with ice cream to keep him happy when I was… gone, but those were the only sweets he ever got. Because Warren didn’t know about them.”
“I’m sure mine won’t be as good as your mom’s, but I can make brownies.”
“Would you mind if I… you know…”
“Made your mom’s brownies? No, of course not. Dig around in the pantry and see if I have everything you need. If not, I can get it dropped off. I have someone coming over soon,” I added. “Which I actually need to talk to you about.”
“Who is it?” she asked, body tensing.
“One of my soldiers. A guard. My boss has decided to beef up security for a while. He wants all of the capos to have a guard stationed outside, day and night.”
“Because you’re worried about retaliation from Warren.”
“Yes.”
“Did… was anyone hurt? Of yours, I mean,” she said.
“I lost one of my men. And my cousin was shot twice. But we were lucky. Compared to Warren,” I told her.
“I’m sorry,” she said, eyes sad.
“Loss is hard,” I admitted, thinking of the arrangements I still had to make for my man, since he had no family of his own. “But it could have been a lot worse. That said, Warren is probably not going to take it in stride, consequences for his own actions and shi—stuff.”
“He’s already planning. That’s how I got away,” she told me as she turned back to the haul on the table, and started pulling tags off the baby clothes. “He was having a meeting. Called in all the guards. That’s never happened before. And the grocery delivery van just so happened to be in the driveway. I just grabbed Judah and ran.”
“Where’d you go?” I asked, trying to be casual, not like I was prying to get information for my boss. Even if I thought she would understand that I did have to answer to him.