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For AJ My only inspiration for falling in love.
“I was under the impression the Abellis could afford more than a fifty-cent ring.” I glanced at the ring on my middle finger. It came from one of those vending machines and had a purple round-cut jewel in the center. The thought of it sobered me. “Sometimes the cheapest things are the most valuable.”
THE RING
Jesus. It was just Stefan anyway. Nobody liked Stefan.
LMAOOO
You do stupid shit, you get killed. That’s how the world works, and my cousin had done more than enough.
I had always tuned out of conversation when she came up. I’d never seen her, but when my idiot cousins would waste time talking about the same pussy like it was what I paid them to do, it was an annoyance. Her name had become an irritation, like some kind of Pavlovian conditioning. So, when her papà had told me she was unfit for marriage, I hadn’t even asked why. I’d signed the contract for the other one. Then I saw her at church. Son of a bitch.
😭😭😭
Talk about a man’s wet dream. Her body . . . fucking centerfold-worthy. Her hair was a weakness of mine: black, silky, and long enough I could wrap it around my fist twice. The thought had flitted through my mind unwillingly. And at church. Jesus.
The Sweet Abelli was sweet to everyone but me.
“Yours?” I asked smoothly. “Bummer.” A tug on my ponytail. “Watch it.” His words were low and distracted.
Was his fist . . .? It was wrapping around my ponytail. Once. Twice.
“It’s called manspreading.” Nicolas’s gaze flicked to my sister. “What?” “Manspreading. How you’re sitting.” He didn’t respond, only sat back, rested his arm behind Adriana’s chair, and then, like he was merely getting comfortable, stretched his legs out a little further.
“You’re living under a rock, Elena. Too many books, not enough TV.”
I fear this is me
“Don’t you look as beautiful as always,” he told me, giving me a kiss on each cheek and lingering too long. “Demasiado hermosa para las palabras.”
Nicolas Russo was safe. He was marrying my sister. There was no chance I’d have to marry him, no chance my actions would alter how he would treat me as a wife.
Just you wait
Had only shared my cigarette with her just so I could see her lips where mine had been.
“Oscar Perry—no, Pretzel.” Her brows knitted. “No, that doesn’t sound right either. Oscar something. God, I’m hungry for pretzels now.”
LMAO
Anything that stops your breath can’t be good for you.
“As a woman, Elena, how would you interpret that text?” I paused. “Well, I think it means she doesn’t want to see you anymore.” “And that includes sex?” “Yep.” He frowned. “Dammit.” “Double-Ds?” “Yeah,” he said sadly. I copied his tone. “Shame.”
This is so fucking funny
“Every savage can dance.” —Jane Austen
Why must everything have a happily ever after? Aren’t the most memorable, poignant moments of history tragic? I had always appreciated sad endings. I was a realist, not a romantic.
I love a good romance, but sad endings are also needed
Nicolas stood near the doors, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets.
I KNEW HED BE THERE
I’d never been tempted to break them—up until I was locked in a car with Elena Abelli.
The smallest sexual interaction I’d ever had with a woman had gotten to me so much I had to pretend I needed gas just so I could get the fuck out of that car.
“I don’t want you to make it a big deal.” “Won’t.” Depends. “Promise you won’t do anything.” “Promise.” Lie.
I ran my thumb down the indention in her chin. “Which hand did he use?”
I love him
“I swear, this lack of anonymity ruins all my fucking fun. Should’ve never gotten the tat.”
“I wanted your hand,” I said, walking down aisles, sloshing gasoline on shelves, cooler doors, the rack of porn mags. “But that’s a fucking mess, really. Don’t have the right knife on me to do a good job.”
The old Pronto lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.
“The cashier groped her,” he said indifferently. “So I burned down his place of business . . . and maybe him.”
As you should
As I passed Nicolas and noticed that Benito was preoccupied with texting next to his car, I tossed my bikini top under the hood. “Don’t psychopaths like souvenirs?”
“One of the sweetest pieces of ass in New York, easily.”
“The best and most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched—they must be felt with the heart.” —Helen Keller
I regretted signing the contract for Adriana. I wanted her sister. In my bed. Against the wall. On her knees.
I wanted Elena Abelli, and starting a feud just so I could have her was beginning to sound less and less like a bad idea every time she was near. But I wasn’t going to go through with the twisted plan my mind had created. I wanted to fuck her. I didn’t want to marry her. My wife was only supposed to be a woman I could respect and who’d have my children. Not one I was so fascinated with I couldn’t think straight. In this life, I couldn’t afford the distraction. Didn’t want the attachment. And she’d fucked with my head already.
“Jesus Christ, I want to marry that woman.”
Love Lorenzo
“Imperfection is beauty, madness is genius, and it’s better to be absolutely ridiculous than absolutely boring.” —Marilyn Monroe
Nonna had looked up from her game of tic-tac-toe with my sister and sighed. “Finally, some entertainment.”
LMAOOOO
“I swear to God, Elena, if I find out you’ve let some man touch you, I will deliver his hands to you in a box.” I swallowed. “And I do not. Fucking. Bluff.” He slammed the door behind him.
Hot
“You want me to respect you?” It was a loaded question, but I only knew one answer. Only wanted one thing from this man, and only needed it once so I could know what it was like. I shook my head. I wanted him to disrespect me. Every inch of me.
“First man I killed, I shoved an ace of spades down his throat.” I swallowed as he took a step back and walked away from me. “Name’s been with me ever since.”
“Because you’ll fall in love with her,” she said. “And she won’t love you back.”
“Nicolas,” I breathed. “This is inappropriate.” His thumb caressed my neck, causing my pulse to hitch. “Platonic,” he rasped.
Because, with one hand on my side, Nicolas pushed me into the pool.
Oop
And I knew it like the sky was blue, he’d been thinking about me.
“Inside, Elena.” “Ask me nicely,” I retorted, mocking him from the time he’d said it to me. His gaze came up from his phone, amused, dark. “If you don’t get your ass inside, Elena, you’ll be the one screaming please.”
And then my sister stared ahead and muttered two little words that would change both of our lives forever. “I’m pregnant.”
Fucking iconic
His fiancée had been impregnated by another man. Any Made Man would take that as a personal and grave insult, but as he finally flicked a thoughtful gaze to me, for some reason I wondered if that was even what was on his mind.
No, he's thinking about how he will finally get to have you
My pulse leapt into my throat as the back of Manuel’s hand came toward my face. I flinched, expecting the blow. When only a brush of air touched my cheek, I opened my eyes to see Nicolas’s hand wrapped around my uncle’s wrist. “Hit a woman in front of me and you won’t be alive to do it again,” Nico growled.
I waited and waited for the name Ryan to escape my sister’s lips. It never did.
Good
I’d thought a lot about this situation, what I could get out of Salvatore for breaking the contract, what I wanted the most. It started with an E and had long black hair. It was also my vice. I wanted it, but I couldn’t let myself have it.
When a familiar face appeared on the screen, my pulse stilled. And when the words “Oscar Perez” followed by “found shot execution style in front of his apartment,” passed the reporter’s ruby red lips, I choked on my cereal. Not ten seconds had gone by, before “SON OF A BITCH!” came from my papà’s office.
BAHAHA
