Total pages in book: 86
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 414(@200wpm)___ 331(@250wpm)___ 276(@300wpm)
“They didn’t try to kill you?”
He smirked. “It’s a fight they knew they wouldn’t win.”
My father paused as he stared at him, analyzing a man who seemed difficult to understand. “So where do you stand with them now?”
“It’s probably best if we don’t cross paths again.”
“You’re aware that we’re enemies?”
He smiled. “Why do you think I’m here, Don Mancini?”
The smile was so arrogant and hostile, but my thighs squeezed together absent-mindedly.
“Because you’re a spy,” my father said curtly. “And you think I’m an idiot.”
He gave a quiet chuckle as his eyes strayed momentarily, meeting mine and staying there for a heartbeat before he looked at my father once again. “Nah, that’s not my game. I already know how your business works, so there’s no valuable information that you could provide me. And if this were an assassination attempt, I’d just come in guns blazing and get it over with.”
My father stared at him.
“Something about me that most people don’t like—I speak my mind. Sometimes it’s a breath of fresh air, and sometimes it’s so pungent you choke. Don’t ever ask me for an answer you don’t want to hear—because I’ll deliver it on a silver fucking platter.”
My father held his confidence despite the fact that we were all outmatched by this gorgeous stranger. “I want to know more about your disagreement with Cosa Nostra.”
“They decided to take the business in a direction that I inherently disagree with. I voiced my disdain for this venture and made it clear in very unequivocal terms that I would leave Cosa Nostra if they pursued it.” He gave a shrug before he clapped his hands together. “They made their decision—and I walked.”
“What was the venture?”
He gave a slight shake of his head. “We may have separated on bad terms, but I’m not a rat.”
“Or you’re a spy,” my father said as he cocked his head slightly.
He gave a chuckle. “I’m fucked no matter the answer I give. If I betray my former employer, then you have no reason to trust that I won’t do the same to you. But if I don’t tell you, then you think I’m a spy.” He gave a shrug. “But I stand by what I said—I’m not a rat. If that’s not good enough for you, I don’t know what to tell you.” He rubbed his hands together gently. “Any other questions? Or are we done here?”
I looked at the side of my father’s face, hoping he wouldn’t dismiss this hunk of a man. Or maybe I did hope he would dismiss him, because he’d be off-limits if he worked for us. But then again, all men were off-limits when it came to my father. I could bring home a billionaire who wanted to whisk me away on his yacht, and my father would still find something wrong with him.
My father continued his stare. “How long were you with Cosa Nostra?”
“I was kinda born into it, so all my life. But if you want to count my adult years, it’s been fifteen years, eight spent as Don Russo’s top lieutenant.”
“Word on the street is you were going to succeed him.”
He grinned widely. “For once, the rumors are true.”
“And you still walked away?”
He nodded. “I’m a man of principle. Maybe Don Russo thought I was bluffing. Maybe he thinks I’ll change my mind and come crawling back. Whatever he thinks, he’s wrong.”
“You must have made a lot of money, serving as a lieutenant. If you need employment, then you obviously didn’t manage your money well. Must have pissed it away on cards and pussy.” My father continued to riddle him with a spray of questions instead of bullets, trying to understand the man who was far too confident given his position.
He shook his head, that handsome smile on his lips. “I’m not in it for the money.”
“So I wouldn’t have to pay you, then?” he challenged.
Wolfe chuckled. “A salary reflects value. So I expect to be paid well out of principle. But do I need the money? No. I could retire comfortably by the sea. But then what? Sit around and get fat?” he asked with a laugh. “Let my mind go to shit? Cristo, I need the adrenaline. I need to know that I could get shot in the head every fucking day. Knowing you’re always a minute from death is the only way to feel alive. At least for me.”
I looked directly into his espresso-colored eyes and drilled in deep with my stare, seeing a man who reminded me so much of my father, of the men who surrounded me every day. But this man truly did not fear death—and that made him different.
My father turned quiet.
Wolfe seemed to have nothing more to say. He rubbed his big palms together slowly as he regarded my father.
“I don’t trust you.”