Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 119(@200wpm)___ 95(@250wpm)___ 79(@300wpm)
I'm not so blind or ungrateful that I don't realize how countless girls in the whole of New England would die (or kill, if we're talking about girls with connections to famiglie) for a chance to spend time with Ezio Marchetti, much more to live under the same roof with him.
I've heard of girls actually having to meticulously plan months in advance for a contrived meeting with La Stregaʼ's grandson. And then there's me, who doesn't have to worry about Ezio thinking I have the hots for him. I work for his grandmother, and that gives me all the excuses I need to talk to him.
But instead of making the most out of this God-given privilege...
I stuck to Sarica like glue every meal so I don't ever have to be seated next to him again.
I signed up for additional electives in school and volunteered for every community outreach program there is.
I did everything I could that would keep me away from home without being obvious about how I was avoiding him.
I didn't want to give him any reason to think I was uncomfortable with him, but I still ended up betraying myself when the Marchettis had their annual ice skating competition at Frog Pond, and I quickly pretended to break my ankle when I realized they were about to pair me off with Ezio.
That should've been the end of it...until I caught the scent of apple cider donuts suddenly wafting in the wintry air.
Mmmm!
I was already halfway to my favorite food stand when I realized my mistake.
Aaaaargh!
And the only person who saw me run like a triathlon athlete at that time?
God only disciplines whom He loves, and it's His way of teaching me a lesson for lying through my teeth.
Sigh.
I know I should accept divine defeat at this point, but I can't.
I choose to hobble on one foot for the rest of the way, but this also backfires on me when I end up slipping and having an accident.
For real.
And so I ended up sidelined for the rest of the holidays.
I'm sorry, God.
I just need more time.
And who knows?
Maybe I'm misunderstanding things, and your plans for Ezio and me have nothing to do with our hearts?
So I prayed and prayed for more time.
But when the day finally came that I was ready to give things another try—-
Sarica looks at me in surprise when I casually ask her about Ezio.
"Oh, you haven't heard? He's flown back to New York. There are things he needs to do there for famiglia."
Five Years Later
One
FRANCISCO WAS not one to leave anything to chance. If the days he had spent fighting for honor and country taught him anything, it was how the parameters and definition of safety were ever-changing.
To let down one's guard even for one second was the beginning of the end, and despite having his own apartment within the fortress-like compound of the Marchettis, Francisco still had his own military-grade security measures in place.
No one could enter his room without him knowing it...or at least no one save for Ezio Marchetti, whose too-pretty face was the first thing Francisco saw upon waking up.
"What the hell?"
The younger man only smiled. "Buongiorno."
"Stop giving me a heart attack, you rascal!"
But Ezio only continued to act as if it was entirely natural for him to show up in the locked bedroom of an ex-military vet, with the younger man rising to his feet so he could give his grandmother's most trusted right hand a brief hug.
"It's nice to see you again, Francisco."
"It's good to see you, too," the older man said gruffly, "but damn you for making a fool out of my security system."
"I prefer the term 'quality control tester.'"
"Quality control, my foot. Are you at least going to tell me how you snuck in?"
"I would if there was a point, but we both know there's not."
Francisco pretended to grumble over this even though he knew Ezio was speaking the truth.
Slippery like a damn eel, that was how Ezio had always been. Francisco could still vividly remember how the boy, forced to attend summer camp during his twelfth year, had managed to give his bodyguards the slip every damn day.
"Does Giancarlo know you're here?"
The smirk on the younger man's lips was answer enough, and Francisco's mood brightened considerably. No one was supposed to enter or leave Boston without Giancarlo's knowledge or express permission. Or at least no one except for Giancarlo's youngest brother, and this made Francisco feel much better about the security lapse in his own abode.
Francisco's stomach grumbled at that moment, and this had him asking if Ezio wanted to join him for breakfast.
"Only if it isn't too much trouble."
"Give me a few minutes to whip something up," the older man said gruffly.
Francisco didn't bother asking what Ezio wanted to eat as he headed to the kitchen. He had a hand in raising Ezio and his brothers, and since manners were everything to a Marchetti, Francisco knew Ezio would not be the kind to demand anything. Whatever he would prepare, the boy would be sure to appreciate.