Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I wait there for a moment, listening for the presence of anyone else in the house, and there’s nothing but silence.
Matteo’s observation about my father’s list of alternative marriage prospects has been bothering me, and I haven’t had a chance to check. At this point, I’m not certain it even matters, but I still want to see it for myself. I need to know what he has planned for me if, by some miracle, this wedding doesn’t go forward.
Before I can think through the consequences, I find myself at my father’s desk, rummaging through his files. Sure enough, in a folder labeled with my name, I find the list Matteo was referring to. At the top, Angelo’s name has been crossed out and replaced with his brother’s, and beside it is the hastily written sum of one million dollars.
My stomach drops as I stand there like an idiot, staring at that figure as if it should come as a surprise. In that moment, I can’t decide what’s worse. The fact that Matteo left that part of the equation out, or that he was right about the other men. The list my father has compiled includes offers from at least ten others, and Carlo Pagnotto is second with his offer of $750,000. The man is a certifiable psychopath, and my father still let him make an offer for me.
As I glance over the rest of the prospects, another terrifying realization settles over me. Six of the men on this list are the same names I’ve heard repeatedly over the past few months. In whispered conversations, details of their murders rippled through the Society. The brutality. The shock. The name carved into their chests.
Il Diavolo.
Was he eliminating my options…or the competition?
“What do you think you’re doing?” The snarling voice in the doorway makes my head snap up, and my eyes collide with the venomous gaze of my father.
A tremor moves through me as I release a hollow breath.
“You sold me for a million dollars?”
He rounds the desk and snatches the paper from my hand, shaking his head in disgust. “You’re as dimwitted as your mother was. You know that?”
“Would you really sell me to Carlo Pagnotto like a piece of livestock?” I grit out.
“If you weren’t already bought and paid for, then yes, I would,” he sneers. “Fortunately for you, the Vitale family made a better offer.”
“You’re vile.” I blurt the words before I can stop myself. There isn’t time to brace for impact before my father backhands me so violently that it knocks me into the wall, and I crumple onto the floor.
“Watch your fucking mouth,” he seethes. “You’ve already made a mockery of this family once. You’re lucky you didn’t find yourself at the bottom of the cliff next to your mother.”
“Is that an admission of guilt?” I choke out.
“The next time you make an accusation like that, be prepared to bet your life on it,” he spits. “Your mother was weak, and throwing herself off that cliff was the only courageous thing she ever did.”
Tears prick my eyes as I rise to my feet and swallow my hatred, staring down my father’s callous face. He was always cruel, but I didn’t grasp the full extent of it until she died two years ago.
The first time he hit me was a shock, but now he doesn’t hesitate. It only pains me that my mother never told us the reason for the bruises she often bore. She explained them away as the effects of her various maladies, shielding us from the truth. Now, it’s undeniable.
“I’ve had about enough of you,” my father mutters. “You’re an embarrassment to this family, and you should be grateful I didn’t have to pay someone to take you as a wife.”
“I don’t want to marry Matteo,” I tell him. “Or anyone else on that list.”
His eyes flash, and I take a step back.
“It’s done.” His face mottles with red as he points a shaky finger at me. “You will marry Matteo, and you’ll suck his goddamned dick every day if that’s what he fucking decrees. This is the end of the road for you, Abella. There won’t be a third chance. So, if you know what’s good for you, do what he tells you and keep him happy. You can start now by offering your condolences.”
“Condolences?” I frown.
He spares me a disinterested glance as he settles into his chair and starts shuffling through his papers. “Silvio is dead.”
“That’s an awfully big hat,” Nicky remarks.
“Uh huh.” I occupy myself by staring at my phone as I take a seat on the golf cart, grateful that the mark on my face isn’t visible to him from my position in the passenger seat.
He drives us to the dock, and I go over the questionnaire for the client I’m meeting today. Hoping for some privacy, I opt for the forward lounge when we board the catamaran, but Nicky doesn’t take my cue and sits directly across from me.