Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Enzo Lambretti just made his last mistake.
***
By the time I return to the penthouse, the tension in my shoulders is on the brink of snapping. Alexis is the first thing I see as I enter the living room. He’s leaning against the counter, arms crossed, looking entirely too satisfied with himself. His shirt is half-buttoned, his hair still damp from a shower, and there's something smug about the way he lifts his chin at me.
“You look like shit,” he says, pushing off the wall.
I ignore his attempt at humor and glance toward Aemelia’s door. “She okay?”
He nods, expression softening just slightly. “She’s fine. Shaken but fine. She’s tougher than she looks.”
Good. The last thing we need is for her to break. “Enzo’s behind the shooting.”
Alexis lets out a low whistle, dragging a hand through his hair. “Fucking Lambretti scum. Mario wasn’t enough for them?”
I move to the bar and pour myself a drink, watching the amber liquid swirl in the glass. “He wanted to kill Aemelia.”
Alexis exhales sharply, rolling his shoulders. “You think she’ll be upset to lose him?”
I take a sip, the burn of whiskey settling deep in my chest. “We need to talk to her. Find out everything she knows. About her family, about the past. If we’re going to take Enzo out...”
Alexis tilts his head. “You’re worried she’ll care, and…”
I set the glass down with a quiet clink, my gaze cutting to his. “And.”
There’s no need to say it out loud. We want her to stay with us and holding her against her will isn’t enough. She needs to want to be here, and destroying any family she loves can only drive a wall between us.
Enzo wants to kill her, and we need to find out why.
Then we need to finish him.
I just hope Aemelia will agree because now there are two Lambretti cocksuckers on our hitlist, and there’s no saving either of them.
31
AEMELIA
WHAT HE NEEDS
I’m watching television when Luca enters the room. My door is no longer locked, but when Alexis left, he closed it behind him, and I didn’t bother to test if they were truly comfortable with me wandering around the penthouse. Things have changed between us, but I’m not sure how much is real and how much is just a carefully maintained illusion.
Luca’s gaze flicks to the screen, where a romance movie plays—a temporary escape from the tension around me. Embarrassment prickles at my skin, and I grab the remote, switching it off as if caught in something forbidden.
Even after hours in the penthouse, Luca is still impeccably dressed, his crisp shirt unwrinkled, his slacks pristine. He carries himself with the kind of effortless power that makes lesser men bow their heads and women forget how to breathe. Without a word, he moves across the room, dragging the chair from the corner and positioning it close to the bed. Then he sits, legs spread, forearms resting on his thighs, his unwavering gaze locked onto me.
His eyes, laser blue and searing, send shivers of awareness down my spine, just as they did the night of the wedding. Spending time in his company, kissing him, and sleeping in his arms has done nothing to lessen the impact of his intensity on my body. If anything, it’s made it worse.
“I need to talk to you, Aemelia.”
“Okay.” My voice comes out smaller than it should, a risk where Luca is concerned. I don’t want him to think I’ve been weakened by his brothers’ attention or the gunman outside. Weakness is a magnet for men like Luca. It would make me another thing he could devour.
“Your uncle Enzo was the one who sent the gunman.”
My stomach tightens. “How do you know?”
His eyebrows rise slightly as if my question amuses him. I exhale and nod. Of course, he knows. He’s Luca Venturi.
“Why now?”
He shrugs one shoulder, a small movement that betrays his irritation. “He wanted to end this. End the shame on his family for good.”
The shame. I hang my head.
“Do you love your uncle?”
I hesitate, understanding the gravity of the question. This isn’t about my feelings; it’s about Luca’s intentions. “I don’t know him,” I whisper. “Not since I was a child. He was never kind to me. He always looked at me like I was something disgusting… the same way my father did.”
Luca’s jaw tightens, and he tuts, shaking his head. If I didn’t know better, I’d think my family's treatment of me when I was younger bothers him. But this is Luca Venturi, the Boss of the Venturi family. His conscience is nothing but ash, his heart a lump of granite.
“You were innocent.” Luca closes his intense eyes, his dark lashes framing the sharp line of his cheekbones. Then after a breath, as if the words cost him something, he adds, “You are innocent.”
I force a small, bitter smile. “Not anymore.”