Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
I make some stalling noises because, shit, I didn’t actually think this conversation would get that far. I pictured letting her know I was looking for something and maybe hearing back about whatever jobs were appropriate for the wife of her son in a few weeks or whatever. Instead, now I feel like I’m at an interview.
“I have a marketing degree from the University of Pennsylvania and I did competitive intelligence research for a pretty good law firm. I can show you my resume—”
She laughs and waves a hand, bracelets jangling. “No, dear, that’s okay. I just mean, really, what do you want to do? Our family is involved in a lot of industries, and I’m fairly confident I could find you something reasonable.”
“Well, I was thinking an office job.” I hesitate because that’s not exactly specific, and it’s not like these people would let the latest member of their inner circle work at a car wash. “I’d be happy at another law firm, or maybe an accounting practice needs an administrative assistant, or I could even put my degree to actual use somewhere.”
His mother nods to herself and looks over toward the window. “Let me think about it and get back to you in a couple days, but I have some ideas already. There’s just one thing though. You need to get Davide’s permission first.”
I pause with my teacup in the air and slowly lower it back down. “I need my husband’s permission to get a job?” I ask her very slowly, and it makes her laugh.
“I’m sorry, dear, I don’t mean to be regressive, but things are unsettled in the family at the moment and I want to make sure this won’t be a problem. If you had come along a year or two ago, I would’ve told my boys to quit being little whiny bitches and let you work, but this is our situation.”
I snort-laugh at whiny bitches because that’s like hearing Mary Poppins call her children bloody annoying pricks, but I appreciate her point. Even if I don’t like it. I worked hard to have a life that wasn’t dependent on what my brothers wanted from me, and now here I am suddenly asking for permission to sit at a stinking desk in some boring law firm.
“I’ll get him to agree,” I say and finish my tea. “Thank you for hearing me out. It means a lot.”
“I know the reason for your marriage wasn’t exactly love, but I’m sure Davide wants you to be happy the same way I do. I bet if you ask very nicely, it won’t be a problem.”
“You’re right.” I get to my feet, sensing that the conversation is over and not wanting to take up more of her time. “I really appreciate the help.”
“Stop over more often,” she says as she walks me to the door. “I really mean it. You’re the first daughter-in-law, which makes you kind of special. Elena says she’s been getting to know you, and I’d like to as well.”
“How about lunch tomorrow? Or the day after if you’re busy?”
She beams at me. “Tomorrow it is. I’ll see you here at noon.”
I wave to her and hop down the steps. That went so much better than I ever could’ve expected. My experience with mafia families suggests the gender relationships are conservative and bordering on outdated, but my brothers spoil their wives, and it’s not like I’m asking too much. Davide might not like it, but he’ll allow it.
In a few weeks, I’ll start building my own life here, and I might even find what I’ve been looking for all these years.
Chapter 18
Stefania
Davide crosses his arms, narrows his eyes at me, and shakes his head. “Absolutely fucking not.”
I stare at him, my mouth hanging open, and try to process. Two hours ago, I was floating on the clouds, happy as can be, already planning my new future super cute business wardrobe. This whole permission thing was just a formality in my mind, another box to check on the way to getting my shit together.
Instead, he’s staring at me like I just punched myself in the chest and ripped out my still-beating heart.
“What do you mean? Your mom thinks it would be fine and I don’t want to sit around the house all day anymore. I need a job, Davide.”
He grunts and shakes his head. “That is not for my mother to decide. I said no and there’s no discussing it.” He walks away, pushes out the back door, and disappears into the back yard.
There’s no discussing it. Hell-fucking-no. He did not just give me that stupid my-word-is-final bullshit and storm off, because there is no way I’m going to let this go.
I chase after him. He’s standing in the patch of grass bordering the landscaped flower beds with a beer in his hand. He slugs some back and glares at me when I get right in front of him and force him to pay attention to me.