Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75929 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)
I wanted to gripe about not needing babysitters, to demand to know if—if the roles were reversed—he would feel the need to send Bass or Serano in with a bodyguard.
But I just barely managed to keep my mouth shut. Because whether I was showing it outwardly or not, I knew how big a deal this was, how much trust Renzo was putting in me to give this job to me. Even if I was mostly chosen for my anonymity, Renzo was still entrusting me with the family money. That was huge.
I couldn’t fuck this up.
Which meant that I had to do something I’d never been any good at. I had to show restraint.
“Okay. Got it.”
Renzo’s brows rose, but he didn’t look a gift horse in the mouth.
“Oh, there is one more thing, though.”
“What?”
“You gotta dye your hair.”
“What? Why?” My hand shot up, running down my dark blue strands.
“Because you’re supposed to be a businesswoman. You gotta look the part.”
Maybe it was silly, but I didn’t want to give up my hair. It was partly how people knew me in the neighborhood. Despite not being known to law enforcement, I did have a reputation to uphold.
“What next? I need to take out my nose ring?”
“Think if you dye the hair and wear something an adult would wear, you can leave the hoop in.”
Sure, I could go off about how—while his capos were standing there in suits—he was wearing black jeans and a tee. Not exactly ‘adult’ either.
But, again, I kept those thoughts to myself.
“Fine.”
“Fine?” Renzo asked, brows pinching. “No arguments?”
“Nope.”
“You got a fever or something?”
“What? You want me to fight you?”
“Just not used to you not being a thorn in my side is all.”
To that, all I managed was a shrug. Because I was worried if I opened my mouth, my tongue would run away with me like it was known to do.
“Alright,” Renzo said, still watching me curiously. “I will get the papers drafted up and shit for the property. And there will be more to go over then. But I’m gonna need you to hand off some of your workload to your soldiers and associates. At first, you might need to be spending time with Soren.”
Oh, joy.
Just what I wanted to do.
Spend my time with some stuffy old businessman.
I shook those thoughts away, thinking instead of the revenge romance I had waiting for me at home.
I could think about Soren Vale some other time.
CHAPTER TWO
Saff
Life went back to so much normal for so long that I almost forgot all about the plan to become a fake businesswoman.
Until, of course, my new cell Renzo had given me solely for dealing with legitimate business stuff started to ring.
I was so shit at playing my part that I swiped to answer before Bastian pulled it out of my hand with an exasperated look.
“Hello? Yes, this is Miss Amato’s phone. Who am I speaking to?”
Leave it to Bastian, a former street kid who’d spent years in prison, to have better manners than me.
“Tomorrow?” he asked, looking at me. I gave him a shrug. “She might be able to fit that in. What time? Three? Yes, that will work. What’s the address?”
Bastian snatched my other phone out of my hands, typing on it to, I imagine, get the address down before he forgot it.
“She will be there. You too. Bye now.”
“’Bye now,’?” I asked, brows raising.
“Businesspeople don’t just hang up like a certain someone,” he said, giving me a knowing look as he passed me back both my phones.
“I’m having a meeting with Vale?”
“He wants to discuss the deal at his main office. But I imagine he is also going to want a tour of the venue. So you might want to get your lazy ass over there to check it out, so it seems like you actually own the place. Or do you have some serial killer who falls in love with an undercover FBI agent to read about?”
I didn’t snap at him for two reasons. One, I knew I wasn’t lazy. I worked twice as hard as any of the men to get the same level of respect on the streets and among other crime syndicates. Two, well, I had been lazy about the whole nightclub thing. Sure, I’d signed the paperwork with Renzo. I’d even bought myself some “respectable” clothes with the help of Elian’s girl, Elizabeth. I figured her experience as a former political campaign manager meant she had a finger on the pulse of what was appropriate to wear to professional events.
Other than that, though, the closest thing you could say I’d done to research was participate in book club, where we read a romance about some cold hard rich bitch who owned a bunch of companies and was having an affair with the man who wanted to buy her out.