Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
“Take her anywhere she wants to go,” Matteo says to the pilot waiting beside the jet’s stairs.
The pilot respectfully dips his chin. “Yes, signor.”
Anywhere could lead me straight back into Antonio’s arms, but Matteo’s unruffled appearance makes me wonder if he knows that isn’t a possibility. I had already packed my suitcase for a reason. Antonio hadn’t been marching me into his father’s office to solely authenticate my claim that the Adami compound was being graced with Cosa Nostra royalty. It was to remind his father of his decision for us to no longer wed.
Matteo was right.
Antonio only wants what he can’t have.
That’s why we need to continue with our ruse. If Antonio’s reaction to our kiss is anything to go by, his jealousy will snowball in less than a week, and we will wed just as fast.
The reminder pushes my desperation to fever pitch.
“I don’t want to go.” I step closer to Matteo, my voice rising with an urgency I can’t hide. “I’m not leaving Sicily. This was not our agreement.”
“The only thing I bartered for this afternoon was for you to suck my dick, sweetheart. You’ve done that, so now it’s time for you to go.” His glare is mocking, nothing like the one he gave me when he was ready to devour me. “Unless you’re desperate for another mouthful of my cum. You’ve got a long way to go before knowing how to please a man, but I can be generous with my time when it’s for the right cause.”
With a narrowed glare, I cut off the snickers of the men surrounding us before I return some of the lip Matteo’s giving me. “Go fuck yourself, gerizekalı. I’d rather eat my own liver than get on my knees for you.”
His jaw twitches, but its spasms don’t keep his mouth shut. “Again. You won’t get on your knees for me again.”
After giving him the universal sign to fuck off, I sidestep him and hobble back to the SUV, my pride too wounded not to wobble. My unstable strides have nothing to do with the lust still roaring through my veins.
Yeah, right. If you believe that, you probably think Antonio will welcome me back with open arms.
His jealousy may be high enough to allow me to enter the grounds of the Adami residence, but it’ll take more than flushed cheeks for him to continue with the arrangement his father initiated behind his back.
My steps slacken. Without Matteo’s help, there’s only one route I can take.
I’ll have to butter up Don Adami.
He has a soft spot for anyone under twenty-three. Regretfully.
“Where are you going, micina?” Matteo asks.
I keep walking. “I have a wedding to plan.”
“To whom?”
My brows furrow. I wait for my pulse to calm enough for my words not to stumble before I spin to face him. “You know who.”
“Yeah, I do. But I need you to spell it out for me.”
His reply wavers, as if unfinished.
I realize it is when he mutters, “Because I only need you to say his name one more time to excuse my knife slipping from his dick to the artery in his thigh. The contract says you’re my wife-to-be, and anyone dumb enough to insinuate otherwise will face my full wrath at their stupidity to any decree I see fit.”
Shit. He’s right. The arranged marriage contract has a bunch of stipulations I can’t ignore. But they don’t just affect me. They also impact Matteo.
Before I can remind him of that, he joins me by the SUV, bands his arm around my thighs, then hoists me onto his shoulder. Heat floods my face when my dress mimics a miniskirt, and my heated center feels every cool breeze whipping across the tarmac.
Mercifully, the pilot and flight crew look away long before Matteo’s stern growl rumbles through their ears. “Eyes to the floor before you lose them entirely.”
As he briskly climbs the jet’s stairs, I put up one hell of a fight.
“Matteo!” I gasp, pummeling his back with my fist. “Put me down!”
He doesn’t. He carries me up the stairs, veers me through the jet’s spacious interior, then plonks me onto the first oversized recliner he sees.
I lurch to my feet quicker than a heartbeat. I don’t get even two feet away. With his hand curled around my throat, Matteo forces me back onto the recliner.
“Sit.”
I’d spit in his face if I didn’t see spitting as the most inhumane act. Instead, I give him a dirty look, as if he’s dog shit under my shoe.
His narrowed gawk shows mutual disdain.
I despise that above all else.
“Why are you doing this?” I ask when he secures me to the recliner with the belt extenders some passengers need. “The idea of spending a few days in my presence too much for you to bear?”
He doesn’t answer me. Not with words. He just continues tying me to the recliner.