Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
I’m privileged. I have money, wealth, connections. My life’s better than the vast majority of girls my age. All I have to do is marry a man I don’t care about, have his children, and continue to live a pampered and luxurious existence.
But it’s not a trade I want to make, and nobody ever asked my opinion or gave me a choice.
At least until Gian.
I hoped Sophia might understand. Underneath all the years of conditioning, she’s still a person and I know she has her own dreams and goals. Sophia always wanted to become a nurse practitioner one day, and she’s been taking classes part-time to get her degree. If and when she gets married, there’s no way she’ll ever actually hold a job. All that work will be for nothing, but she’s doing it anyway, because some part of her must know that life can be about more than just doing what the Famiglia requires.
It breaks my heart. The Famiglia has her so twisted up that she can’t even imagine a world in which she’s not part of its web. And the sick thing is, I don’t want to get away either, not entirely at least.
I just want some choice. I want a little agency. I don’t want to mindlessly marry whatever man my father shoves at me just because that’s what I’m supposed to do.
I want a life. I want to go back to work. I want to be a guidance counselor. I want to help people. Maybe a part of me wants to do good in the world to balance out some of the bad my father does, I don’t know, but it doesn’t matter.
If Sophia can’t understand, nobody else will.
Which means tomorrow is going to be very, very ugly.
Chapter 13
Gian
It’s physically painful to leave Allegra alone, but I have to take a few meetings while I’m in Vegas. I don’t plan on coming back out here for a while, which means I need to take this opportunity to tie off a few loose ends before we settle down back east. I’m going to stay in Philadelphia for as long as I’m with her, even if it means my business out here will suffer. Renzo might be frustrated that I’m letting my team run the gambling side of the Famiglia, but he’ll survive.
She’s more important. The whole time I’m thinking of my new wife, thinking of her lips, her taste, that fucking kiss. I knew I’d enjoy it, but I didn’t think it would infect me like this. All the old feelings I thought I’d managed to bury flood back. It has me reeling, that little moment of pleasure, and when I finally extract myself and head back to the room, I can’t stop imagining her mouth on mine and that little whimper she made in the back of her throat. It was pure sex, pure lust, physical and undeniable.
All this time, I assumed she hated me. I kept away because I couldn’t handle the thought of seeing her again and knowing I could never have her.
But that kiss told me everything.
I head back into the room and find her curled up on the couch in front of the TV. She has a room service cart parked near the door and a bottle of white wine chilling on ice. A big glass sits on the coffee table in front of her, half empty. She looks up as I walk over.
Her eyes are red, like she’s been crying.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, instantly going tense. “Did something happen?”
“No,” she says and wipes at her face. “No, I’m fine.”
“You’re clearly not.” I hesitate, not sure if I should go to her, but she’s barely looking at me. “What happened?” I press, completely on edge. I’m in full-on protective mode.
“I talked to my cousin, okay? I told her we got married, and it didn’t go well.”
I remember Sophia. She was the epitome of a mafia princess—stuck-up, spoiled, and fiercely loyal to their Famiglia, even back in college when most kids are rebelling in small ways. Half my time with Allegra was spent making sure Sophia never caught us.
I’m somewhat surprised they’re still close. They never made sense to me. Sophia’s materialistic and only seems to care about living the proper mob wife lifestyle—flashy cars, big nails, designer clothes, the sort of daily life that looks great on Instagram—while Allegra was different. She had dreams, goals, aspirations. I assumed the two of them would drift apart.
Apparently, I was wrong.
And it pisses me off.
“I don’t know what she said, but she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” I tell her as I move closer. “I promised you already, things are going to be okay.”
“My dad’s going to kill me. You realize that, right? Even if your brother gets over it, my dad’s never going to trust me again.”