Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 54103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
“We… meaning me and you?”
Adrian averts his gaze. “Yeah, why not? If we leave this to the men, they might make a mistake.”
The Don and the consigliere don’t usually handle business like this. This is work for capos and soldiers. Adrian must have another reason for wanting me to come personally. Is he planning a trap? Perhaps this is my chance to test his loyalty.
“Then let’s go,” I tell him. “We’ll take my car.”
Perhaps mafia work will distract me from Sienna, my Vignette, my piccola pittrice.
Unlikely.
Chapter Fourteen
Sienna
I walk into the kitchen to find Nico talking quietly with a familiar-looking young man. He wears a shiny silver suit with his hair slicked back.
Nico seems withdrawn, distant. Likely, he doesn’t want this man to know how he feels about me… if he feels anything. “Sienna, I’m sorry, but we have to leave. Business.”
Also known as… mob stuff.
“Our painting session is done for today, anyway,” I say, like it’s no big deal.
“Uh, cousin?” The young man cuts in.
Nico frowns. “Sienna, this is Adrian, my cousin. You’ve met.”
Adrian swaggers over, grinning at me. “Sort of. Nice to meet you… officially. You’re the special lady who put a smile on my cousin’s face at the Vine, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Uh…”
“We’re leaving,” Nico says stiffly, almost dragging Adrian from the room.
I watch Nico go, then stop when I realize Gianna is staring at me from the other side of the island. She’s dressed glamorously, her hair in an intricate updo.
“I can arrange a ride home for you… Or, if you like, you could accompany me to the Majestic.”
“The Majestic?”
“It’s a theater. There’s a one-woman show that’s supposed to be simply divine. Unless you have plans?”
“My plans don’t seem to be worth much lately.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I should collect my things. I don’t want to leave the canvas in the sun for too long.”
It would probably be fine to leave it outside, but I need some time to think. What I told Gianna is true. My plans aren’t very sturdy as of late. One job… failed. One night… failed. And now I can’t stop thinking about what we just did, the heat, the closeness of his hand down my pants.
When I return to the kitchen, Gianna asks, “So, what do you think about the play? It’s about a woman who leaves her life in New York, her family, her job, and tries to start anew. Apparently, it has interesting things to say about living independently as a woman, finding true love, and the search for a family.”
She’s looking at me like there’s a hint buried in there. I should tell her no. The last thing I need is to watch a play that sounds like it mirrors my life.
But I like Gianna, even if something as simple as liking her could lead me down the wrong road… a road I’ve already walked down too many times.
“Unless you have plans?” she says hesitantly.
“No, I don’t have anything for the rest of the day. Your…” Money, I almost say, but it seems rude somehow. “Generosity has given me more free time than I know what to do with. I’d probably touch up the painting and then…”
And then sit around, pondering her son.
“So, is that a yes?”
“Yes!” I’m excited. Sue me. “But I should probably find something classier to wear, right? I feel underdressed.” I look down at my partially torn shirt. Thankfully, as an artist, I can get away with dressing a little unconventionally.
“I think you look beautiful, but if you like, we can go on a quick shopping spree before the show. We’ll make an afternoon of it.”
“Are you sure? I don’t want to eat up too much of your time.”
“Don’t be silly,” she says. “I’d much rather go with you than alone.”
“A woman like you, I thought you’d have lots of friends to go with.”
“Appearances can be deceiving,” she says.
“Do you think it looks okay?” I ask, standing in front of the mirror, a strange, surreal feeling hitting me as I turn this way and that.
Gianna stands behind me, seeming much more at ease in the high-class store. “Okay? You look sublime, transcendental. You need to get this.”
“The entire outfit?”
Gianna pouts at me in the mirror. “Did you think we were playing dress up for fun?”
I study myself again. I’m wearing a matte black silk crepe midi dress. The shop assistant described the style as a ‘fit-and-flare silhouette’. Whatever it is, I love how it hugs the contours of my body without clinging. The neckline shows collarbone, no cleavage, and it cuts at my calves… but somehow, it’s still sexy.
Combined with the rest of the outfit – suede pointed heels, a dark oxblood clutch bag, and a thin gold chain to complement the cut of the dress – I'd be lying if I said I didn't feel exceptional.