Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 471(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 314(@300wpm)
I’ll take the evening to regather my bearings. Then, first thing tomorrow, I’m out of here.
I’m such a liar. The desire to confront Giovanni isn’t the only reason I’m digging in my heels. I’ve always been curious to see how the other half live.
Upon entering my room, I’m momentarily taken aback by its sheer extravagance. The room is vast, easily twice the size of my apartment back in Los Angeles. Dark, polished walnut panels cover the walls, and their surfaces reflect the soft golden light from a crystal chandelier.
The ceiling is high and adorned with intricate swirls and medallions that catch the rainbow hues of the chandelier, and a heavy mahogany desk dominates the space. Its surface is so glossy I can see my reflection in it.
Behind it, mahogany bookshelves stretch from the floor to the ceiling. They’re filled with leather-bound books and the occasional marble book bust. The rug beneath my feet is so thick and plush, it muffles my footsteps.
A pair of wingback chairs is arranged before a fireplace that looks like it’s never seen a speck of dust. On the mantel, a gilded clock ticks quietly, and vases overflowing with fresh lilies flank it. The windows are tall and draped with velvet curtains the color of midnight.
It’s a beautiful room, but in a cold, intimidating way. This room was designed to impress, not to be cozy. The biggest telltale? There’s no bed or anything remotely domestic. It’s more the private office of a king than a place for someone to rest.
I turn to face Matteo, who’s milling by the door. “Is this the right room? I was told I’d be next to Giovanni, but I don’t see a bed.”
A sly smile plays at his lips. “This is the only room next to Giovanni’s.”
“Then where’s the bed?”
He nods toward a discreet door set in the paneling. “It’s in there.”
I march to the doors and throw them open. My heart launches into my throat when I take in the oversized bed in another male-dominated space.
“Our rooms are interconnecting.”
I’m summarizing, but Matteo doesn’t know that. “Uh-huh.”
“And there’s only one bed.”
He makes another agreeing gesture, and the implication behind it makes my blood boil.
I’m to share Giovanni’s space but only be known to his father as his surrogate.
Anger surfaces when my heart reaches the same conclusion as my head.
I’m nothing but a gimmick to this family.
With her hands folded neatly in front of herself, the maid appears. “Would you like anything, signorina? Tea? A blanket?”
I shake my head before forcing a polite smile. “No, thank you.” I don’t need anything because I won’t be here long. The instant I’m alone, I’ll be in the quickest transport home. I’d rather risk the streets of Carlisle at night than be treated like an object.
Matteo seems more adapt at reading minds than knowing when someone needs space. “It’s for your privacy as well as Giovanni’s. The family doesn’t need to know every detail of his personal life.”
I fold my arms over my chest to hide the shake of my hands. “Privacy or secrecy?”
He doesn’t answer me. He just glances at the interconnecting door again. “If you need anything, ask.”
He loiters for a moment, then finally leaves.
As soon as the door clicks shut, I test the handle. It’s locked, so I try the windows next.
Each one is sealed shut as if they anticipated I’d attempt an escape. What other reason would they have to lock the windows?
Even desperate, I wouldn’t risk death by scaling down from this height.
As I stand amid the opulence, I feel more trapped than ever. The grandeur is suffocating, and the secrecy shrouding it makes my skin crawl.
I need to get out of here.
I just have to survive tonight first.
18
GIOVANNI
The loud slam of the door behind me bounces off the walls of my family’s estate. My blood is still sizzling from my confrontation with Valeria. It lasted too long and tested every ounce of my patience. I stood my ground, though. I told her unequivocally that she either pulls into line or removes herself from the lineup entirely. I’m tired of her deception and manipulation. Compromise is no longer an option. What she damaged cannot be fixed, and frankly, I don’t want to fix it.
Her sniveling defense replays in my mind as I stride through the halls with my fists clenched at my sides. I loathe that no amount of wishful thinking will allow me to resolve this dilemma with my gun. But more than anything, I hate that she tried to use my brother’s loyalties against me.
She wove her story so tightly around Valentina that even Dante started to doubt her.
I smelled the controversy on his skin when he reminded me how the “Surprise! You’re a father!” ruse knocked him on his ass. But this is different. Valentina isn’t Anna. She wouldn’t play me like that.