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)
Which means he might be free to explore other romantic attachments, but I’ll never have more.
But it isn’t so bad. There are girls in my situation who have it so much worse. There are drinking husband, abusive husbands, gambling husbands and worse. Men who cut with words worse than they hurt with their hands. Saul doesn’t seem the type, at least not yet. It could be worse.
“Alright, Mr. Rossi,” I say falling back into my demure role. “I suppose that’s not such a bad deal.”
He looks relieved. “Why don’t we spend the rest of our time together getting to know each other? You went to Blackwoods, right? Tell me what you studied.”
The conversation moves on from there. Saul’s kind and even makes me laugh a few more times, but that excitement never builds and can’t go anywhere. He’s a dead end, romance-wise. I knew it from the second I touched his hand. No spark, no attraction. He’s handsome, very good looking, but he’s not—
The specter floating above all of this.
And regardless of what I want or how I feel about my future, he’s irrelevant and he always will be, and I’m trapped inside my family’s expectations, trapped inside my social standing, and caught in a web I won’t ever unweave. Might as well make the best of it and smile.
At the end of it, I walk with Papa and Saul to the front door.
“It was very nice talking with you,” Saul says, shaking my hand once more. He comes in and gives me a very chaste kiss on the cheek.
Papa beams, clearly approving. “You two seem to be getting along.”
“Saul’s not so bad,” I say, mostly to make Papa happy.
My father laughs and pats Saul on the back. “Good, very good, that’s high praise coming from her.”
“Hopefully, I can do better than not so bad one day, but I’ll take it. Don Rinaldo, thank you for your time.” They shake hands, and Saul opens the door.
I see him waiting out by the car.
My heart stops. My ears go fuzzy. Saul and my father are speaking, and Saul’s moving out onto the front steps, but I’m staring at the car. There are two men, both of them clearly Rossi brothers, but I can only look at him.
Gian stares back. His face doesn’t move. His eyes don’t blink. He’s looking at me like he’s drinking me in, like he’s been craving a glimpse of me for the past ten years.
He looks older, but in so many ways, he hasn’t changed. He’s still athletic and lean, still muscular, with that square jaw and wide nose. Dark eyes, thick curly hair, lips like heaven. I still remember him kissing me. I still remember him whispering to me as his hands moved over my body.
Gian Rossi, the man who ruined me and disappeared.
“Allegra?” Papa’s frowning. I look past him again, but the door’s closed, and the Rossi brothers are gone.
“Yes? Sorry, what did you say?”
“I asked, how did that go?”
“Fine.” I take a few steps toward the stairs. “I drank too much tea though. Got to use the bathroom.”
Papa sighs and waves me off. “Go ahead, talk with Sophia first, then come find me. I’m sure she’s dying to hear the details.”
“Thanks, Papa.” I hurry away, up the steps, my throat constricted. I step into an empty guest bedroom, shut the door, lean my back against it, then sink down to the floor, hugging my knees.
I bite my wrist to keep from screaming. Gian’s here, he’s back, and he hasn’t forgotten about me like I haven’t forgotten about him.
Chapter 4
Gian
Inever should’ve gone with Carlo and Saul to that damn meeting. I knew it was a terrible idea, but when Carlo invited me along, I couldn’t stop myself. It was a chance to see her again, even if from a distance.
I got exactly what I wanted, and it’s nearly killing me.
She looked perfect. Just like I remembered. Thick, dark hair, small features, curvy everywhere that matters. Not thin, but athletic, and wearing this pretty, conservative black dress that only somehow made her look even more gorgeous. I got a single glimpse of her standing behind Saul and her father, but that image is burned into my skull.
It makes me sulk for a week straight.
“Alright, you’ve got to tell me what the fuck is eating you up.” Carlo shoves a whiskey into my hands. We’re sitting elbow to elbow at one of the bars our family owns in South Philly. It’s a dive, a real local spot, and it’s filled with Rossi loyalists. “You’ve been like this for days.”
“It’s hard, being home.”
“Tell me about it, I’d never fucking run off like you did.”
“I didn’t run. I’ve been working our Vegas connections.”
“Yeah, sure, you only dropped out of school one day, no fucking warning, and disappeared out west without asking permission. I think Pops gave you that job out of pure shock, honestly.”