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Chapter 7
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2024-10-29 19:42:56It was Monday again, and Elena was back to work, looking more dolled up than usual only because she wanted to believe she was okay. She had to believe she was okay. The world had to believe.
The bright colors she wore —A yellow long-sleeved shirt, tucked into a green trouser and yellow suede shoes— were a complete contrast to her mood. Dark. Beyond dark.
She had never been in a light mood, not that she could remember. But she had managed to steady herself in a neutral mood for three years now. And then cane the psycho to push her back to her old lane.
She didn't miss it... being in such a dark mood. Being on such a dark side. She didn't miss it, but she fitted into it.
The only thing that was usu
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Hey, this book has been on hold for a while. I hate that I kept the story away from my readers. As much as I'm excited to let the world see this book, it became depressing for me that the reads and votes for this book never moved forward, even when my editor claimed to have promoted it—which I highly doubt. As a result of this, I'm unsure whether I'll continue this book on here or any other book at all. I'll let y'all know. Xxxx xxxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xxx xx xxx xxx xx xxxxx xxx xxx
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The man on the stage, tucked a hand inside his pocket while the other held a flute of champagne. He was so Italian like most of the men and women in Gregory's cartel, at least the ones she'd seen. "Everyone knows why we're here. It's the official seating of Gregory Don II of the Marchetti mafia," the man announced and everyone except Elena and the man in question cheered. "I'm his second in command as most of you know. Leo Marchetti (speaks Italian)" The people cheered and his short speech continued for a bit before he called for Gregory to address the crowd.He went up to address the crowd, he sounded like a boss—a no-nonsense boss, but she still heard the vileness in his voice.
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He watched as his sisters and mother fawned over her after he'd told them she's his woman. When he'd seen she wanted to argue, he tapped the pistol he always had in his belt hook and she'd managed a small smile. They rushed to her asking her name, what country she was from, what language she spoke. His mum hadn't been easy to convince. She'd called him to the side while the girls led his woman into the house, but he'd always thought he was good in putting up an act when it involved Rebecca, his mum. Not today, he'd seen that, heard that when she asked what he'd done to the poor girl. He covered it with anger, telling her to let it go, then he walked inside. "Where is pops?" Gregory finally
