Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
He makes a choking sound and flips another page.
You may die before me.
“That’s true, but at least my name will live on through my son. I won’t be dumped in a shallow grave without a headstone.”
Fury contorts his features. He claws at me but misses. His face only grows redder as I stand there and laugh.
An eerie quiet falls over me. Instead of stabbing that pen through his ribcage and straight into his heart, I grab it and shove it into his hand. “How does it feel, Teszner?”
His knuckles turn white around the pen.
“Go on.” I take my knife from my holster and push the tip under his chin, making sure he feels the sharp point. “Why don’t you write that down?”
His hand flies over the paper, the pen leaving a hole in the page from the pressure he applies.
This isn’t over.
“No,” I agree. “Not yet. And I’m going to enjoy every second to the very end.”
He throws the pen at me, but I easily avoid the pathetic onslaught.
“That’s right. Throw a hissy fit all you like. There’s not much else you can do.”
Fisting his hands, he shakes with anger.
I head toward the door. “I’ll catch you later.”
When I leave, dark satisfaction fills me. I’m not going to lie. I’m relishing every minute of breaking him, and I’m not going to rush it. No, I’m going to drag out his demise. I’ll revive him as many times as necessary to keep him breathing until I decide when it’s time for Leander Teszner to blow out his last rotten breath.
Chapter
Thirty-Seven
Tatiana
* * *
The big party is today. Penelope had a few dresses sent over for me to choose from. I’m flipping through the evening gowns that hang from a portable clothes rack in the lounge when Dante walks in.
Surprised, I smile. “I thought you had a meeting.”
“I do.” He walks over, cups my nape, and pulls me in for a kiss. “With you.”
“You want to have lunch? You should’ve warned me. I would’ve made something you actually like, such as lasagna.”
“Yes?” His voice is gruff as his heated gaze homes in on my lips. “What is for lunch?”
“Carrot and sweet potato casserole.”
He winces. “Poor Noah.”
I laugh. Yep, carrots have definitely never been one of Dante’s favorite vegetables.
Brushing his thumb over my nape, he kisses me again. “It’s lucky for me I’m not having lunch at home.”
“What meeting are we having then?”
“A business meeting.”
“Another one?” I raise a brow. “Should I be worried?”
He releases me. “I hope not.”
“Now?”
“There won’t be time later.”
“Emily went out for groceries. I’ll have to bring Noah.”
“Good. As it’ll be his future workspace, he can get accustomed to it.”
I prop a hand on my hip. “Dante.”
He raises his palms. “What?”
“He’s not even five. I want our son to be happy. I don’t want you to force him into something he may not want.”
He chuckles. “Noah will do what he wants to do. But I can guarantee you he’ll want to be a part of the business.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He shrugs. “I see a lot of myself in him.”
I can’t argue that. Every day, Noah behaves more like his father.
Dante eyes the dresses. “Are those for tonight?”
I sigh. “Penelope had them sent over.”
“Don’t you like them?”
“I like all of them. It’s difficult to choose one.”
And I’m a little worried. I know Dante’s guests are going to dissect my choice, no matter what I wear. Just like in my teenage years when my mother made me parade around in the latest fashion at social events, my dress, shoes, hair, and even my posture will be criticized. It’s only one of the reasons why I hate those gatherings. The main one is that I find them boring.
Dante goes straight for the only dress that has an open back and takes it off the rail. “This one.”
I gape at him. It’s a stunning dress of jade green silk with lace inlays of the same color. The fabric drapes softly at the back and ends in a short trail. The high neck at the front is square and elegant. There’s no doubt that it’s a gorgeous creation, but it will expose my back.
He holds the dress in front of me. “I’ll probably have to kill a few men for staring at you, but it’ll be worth it.”
I take the dress and return it to the rail. “The back is open.”
“So?”
“Dante,” I say in a hushed exclamation. “My scars will be on display.”
He cups my face in a fierce and urgent gesture, his gaze burning on me. “Then let them be. I don’t give a fuck, and neither should you. I’m proud of those scars, Tatiana. They remind me how brave and strong you are, the bravest and strongest person I know, so own them.”
As I stare at the conviction and passion that set his features into hard lines, my heart shatters in the best possible way. Without knowing, Dante has just glued together the broken parts of me, the parts I don’t even understand myself yet.