Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98583 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 394(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
And that’s so wrong.
But maybe once, just this one time, I can let someone in. If I’m careful, if I dedicate myself to protecting her, maybe I can do something halfway good. Maybe I can be the husband I’ve always wanted to be.
My life doesn’t have to be all ruin.
Not now, at least. Not before the end.
“You’re all I want,” I whisper, and it’s the damn truth.
Chapter 32
Lucy
“You’re going to be the most beautiful woman there,” Adriano murmurs on the car ride over to the Union League. It’s a private, invitation-only club with a long list of prestigious members.
And exactly the sort of place I hate.
“That can’t be true, but I appreciate the sentiment.” I lean across the car and kiss him. He smiles back at me, and I swear, I need to thank Frank.
Ever since that old bastard tried to kill him over two weeks ago, Adriano’s been in such a better mood.
It’s weird. That night in his office, I thought he was going to push me away. But I realized that if I wanted him, I had to stand up for myself.
No more letting others dictate what my life was going to be like.
I have my own wants and dreams. I don’t need to bend them to accommodate everyone else all the time.
Screw him. When he tried that whole I’m too dark and broken and bad for you bullcrap, I just didn’t take it.
Instead, I made him see what’s right in front of his face.
We fit. We work. I don’t even get why, but we do.
It’s that bizarre trick of human chemistry. It’s what makes love so incredible.
When it happens, it’s straight-up magic.
And we’ve had that spark ever since.
He takes me out to dinner. Showers me with presents. Fucks me until my body can’t take any more every single night. The man’s insatiable, and I’m completely here for it. When he looks me in the eye and tells me that he thinks I’m perfect, I actually believe him.
It’s incredible. I’m giddy all the damn time.
Kennedy says I’m in love.
And maybe I am, but so what?
I’m allowed to fall for my husband, even if he is a monster.
A young man named Dante is driving Adriano’s car these days. He drops us off at the corner and goes to park. I grip my little clutch, and I can feel the foil-wrapped stick hidden at the bottom. My stomach twists a little thinking about it, and I’ve been such a damn coward about this stupid thing. I don’t even know why I’m carrying it around.
Just get it over with.
“Are you alright?” he asks as he leads me into the club. Other well-dressed couples are scattered all around. Older women with diamonds at their throats, men in fancy suits. Adriano makes them look like peasants. He’s model-gorgeous in a bespoke Italian suit.
“Just a little distracted is all.” I smile and take his hand. “I haven’t been to one of these events in a long time.”
“It’s politics.” He scowls at the word. “Vittorio and Luca are both inside already. We just have to make an appearance and let people know that we’re still open for business.”
“Easy for you to say. You didn’t grow up with these jackals.” I grimace when I spot a girl I went to high school with. She’s wearing an expensive and conservative blue dress, and her perfect blonde hair is up in an elaborate twist. Her makeup is perfect, and she looks hot enough to read the weather. But Marcy Taylor DeLuca would rather die than stoop so low as to get a job. She’s married to a man named Richard DeLuca, a deeply well-connected lawyer with ties to everyone in the city.
“You don’t have to worry about them now,” Adriano murmurs as the leggy witch spots me and comes over. Her bland upper-crust husband follows after like a trained dog. “You’re with me.”
“Oh my god, Lucy Willing-Morris, is that you?!” Marcy gives me a kiss on the cheek and demurely introduces herself to Adriano. “You must be the husband. Adriano Marino, right?”
“Nice to meet you,” Adriano says, barely glancing at her.
She waves her husband over. Richard’s smile is much more charming. He’s at least twenty years older, with a grizzled smirk and a lanky frame.
“Good to see you again, Adriano,” he says, shaking my husband’s hand. “There are a few other people you should meet.”
Adriano shoots me an apologetic look as he’s pulled away. I’m tempted to grab onto his ankle and beg him not to leave me like a toddler, but I’ve been through worse. I can totally handle this.
Marcy leans in closer. “I hear your wedding was incredible, despite the little fiasco at the end.” She beams at me like a car bomb is barely more than juicy gossip. “Are you here to support Vetrie Milano?”
Behind her, big banners with hot-looking modern models wearing stupid sunglasses are draped all around the Union League’s interior. In theory, this is some kind of designer grand opening for a new brand. But mostly it’s just an excuse for rich people to show off all their wealth and power.