Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
When he pushes off his feet, I fall in step behind him only seconds later, too stunned by the hefty figure on the invoice he signed to remember I’ll never win an argument with a man as dominant and possessive as him.
It was well into six figures.
I’m taken aback when I enter an apartment a trillion times bigger than mine. It’s still on the twelfth floor, but the views from this side of the building stretch for miles, and there are several living areas. It’s a luxury I didn’t know you could find in this half of Carlisle.
My eyes snap to Dante when he says, “It’s amazing what money can achieve when placed in the right hands.”
There’s no denying the truth of his statement, so I start where any woman should when her privacy is so invasively violated. “What did you do?”
His smile drums my heart against my ribs. “Renovations.”
“That isn’t a renovation.” I thrust my hand at the double-wide opening now linking our apartments together. “That’s a demolition.”
He shrugs, not at all frustrated by the snark in my tone. “Depends on whose perspective.”
I drop my backpack. Its weight is the equivalent of a jumbo jet since my shock is so all-encompassing. “You can’t do this. This is my apartment.”
“I can,” he says matter-of-factly. “And I have.” He walks toward a kitchen that gleams with brand-new appliances and polished black glass cupboards. As he pulls out two mugs and switches on a coffee machine that belongs in the future, his lips purse. “And technically, it isn’t your apartment. It’s mine.”
I clench my hands into balls, fighting not to scream my frustration into the night air.
I hold back a stream of profanities, but a handful of words still sneak through the cracks. “Why are you doing this?”
He pops two tea bags into the mugs and then twists to face me. I wish he wouldn’t. His arrogance should be infuriating, though by some bizarre twist, I find it endearing. “If you won’t come to Camille, I’ll bring Camille to you.”
My mouth falls open. Then disappointment slams hard. I adore his no-nonsense approach to parenting. I’ll emulate it once I have custody of Gabriele, but it doesn’t alter the facts. A nanny job doesn’t pay nearly as much as the thirty thousand dollars I’ve agreed to deposit into Edoardo’s account each month. If I fail to keep up with this minimum payment, I’ll lose the scarce parental rights I have.
I can’t let that happen—not even for someone as adorable as Camille, or as handsome as her arrogant father.
“You’re insane.” I wish I were better with words, but it is what it is. No one’s brain operates at full capacity when they’re stuck in the madness of being wanted.
Dante slackens my steps back to my apartment. “Why?”
I whip around so fast that my hair slaps my red cheeks. “You can’t barge into someone’s life and demand to be a part of it!”
“Why not?” he asks, genuinely curious. “You can say no to me, Lucia. But I don’t see you as willing to say the same to Camille.”
My stomach twists. “Don’t bring Camille into this.”
He ignores me. “Shall we test the theory?” Before I can stop him, he calls out, “Camille!”
My heart ceases beating. “She’s here?”
I anticipate footsteps pattering from one of the many doors down the long hallway, then a small voice whispering, “Daddy.”
All I get is another reason to schedule Dante for a mental health evaluation.
“Oh, that’s right. I sent her home with Matteo and Nico once they made sure you got home safely from work.” He air-quotes his last word.
My blood runs cold when the truth pummels me so hard and fast that there’s no denying it.
Nico was the man Matteo threatened to disembowel.
Come to think of it, the voices of brothel managers I called were oddly similar.
I’m being played for a fool.
“You didn’t buy every brothel in the country.” Just every strip club. My tone is a mix of anger and relief. I’m not solely furious at his tricks. I’m also angry that I am still contemplating a foray into the prostitution conglomerate.
Dante remains quiet until I say, “So I guess I’ll switch to in-person inquiries from here on out.”
His teeth grit as his eyes narrow into thin slits. “You could… but it would be a waste of time. Not only did I circulate your photo to every brothel in the country, but I also threatened to burn their businesses and all the profit they made from them to ashes if they continued to operate under their current management plan.” My lips twitch to continue bickering, but my fight loses steam when he says, “Those women you think you want to represent don’t have a choice, angelo. They’re not there of their own will. That’s why Matteo and Nico infiltrated each of your contacts. I don’t want you knowing men like that, much less associating with them.”