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 emotions out of it. I’m not me right now. I’m not your… whatever the fuck I am to you. I’m a threat.”
“Matteo—”
“No,” I snap out. “I’m not Matteo. I am not your friend. I’m someone who wants to hurt you, and I won’t stop until I’ve broken you.” Her cheeks twitch when I say one name I hope like fuck will cut through every hesitation she has. “I’m Antonio.”
Quicker than the flick of a switch, her composure changes. Her muscles coil, and her breathing sharpens as her eyes go cold with hate.
Then she moves. Fast.
As she did earlier, she leaps to her feet, but this time, when I pull her down by wrapping my legs around her thighs and shifting my weight to my hips, she drives her knee down hard—right into my groin. My erect groin.
Pain explodes through me, white-hot and blinding, as my hold breaks.
While sucking in a big breath, I roll to my side and fight not to curse loud enough for my foul language to echo off the walls of my family’s mansion miles away.
Chapter 23
Azra
As I walk past the shopfronts of Carlisle, I steal glances at Matteo. His calm yet dangerous composure makes it seem like he’s not hurting. I know better. I see his pain in the tension of his jaw and how he constantly adjusts his stance.
He’s trying to hide how badly I hurt him, but every few steps, pain flashes across his ridiculously handsome face.
I didn’t mean to knee him that hard, or lose control like I did, but the second he put Antonio in the scenario, something inside me snapped.
Don’t give up on me yet. The idea of marrying a man I hate is weird, but it’ll all make sense once I get the chance to explain.
Now isn’t the time.
I thought we were wandering the streets of Carlisle to walk off the pain I inflicted. I didn’t question the motive behind Matteo’s suggestion.
I should have.
We’re standing in front of a bridal shop.
The bridal shop where I am supposed to have my last dress fitting.
I didn’t realize he was guiding me here. The storefronts didn’t register as familiar because every time I was summoned here, I was a bundle of nerves and anxiety.
Matteo led me here without a single stomach flip.
How?
He shouldn’t know about this appointment. I silenced my alarm during my erotic dream. I remember fumbling for my phone, half dreaming, half awake, to shut it off before it could distract him.
Matteo wasn’t present in the same space as me, so how does he know about today’s appointment?
My dream flashes through my mind, vivid and realistic.
Was it real?
Did he… Did we…
No, that’s not possible.
It was a dream. It had to be a dream.
But what if it wasn’t?
What if some of it bled from reality?
What if I said something out loud?
What if he heard me?
My heart stutters painfully.
I can’t demand that he tell me the truth.
I can’t even look at him.
We’re in front of a building that brings me one step away from achieving a goal I set four years ago. Despite the desires of my heart, I can’t give up so close to the finish line. Can I?
The glass storefront gleams in the sunlight, wordlessly daring me to walk inside. I should go get this over with, but Matteo has suffered enough today. I hurt him, so common courtesy dictates that I shouldn’t drag him through this.
He can hide behind his bad-boy persona all he likes, but pushing him to face this challenge with me will hurt him more than it will heal him.
I can’t do that.
I can’t purposely hurt him.
So I lie.
“They, uh… changed my appointment at the last minute.” I force a shrug. “The dress fitter called in sick.”
Matteo’s arched brow announces he knows I’m a big fat liar—which I am—but he doesn’t call me out. He nods once, going along with my ruse.
“The timing couldn’t be more perfect.”
“What do you mean?”
He nudges his head toward the bakery across the street. “If you’re not getting fitted today, you can splurge on a handful of calories.”
Before I can protest, he curls his hand around mine and steps off the curb—straight into traffic. Burning rubber filters into the air as cars instantly halt.
We’re not on a crosswalk, and the traffic lights didn’t change in our favor. Traffic only stops because no one in their right mind would challenge a man as dangerous and unhinged as Matteo Caruso.
I shouldn’t love that he has the power to stop traffic, but I do.
It once again reminds me that I was foolish for ever believing I had to face this ruse alone.
The smell of sugar and butter streams into my nose when Matteo pulls open the bakery door. My stomach growls embarrassingly loud. Brunch was plentiful, but I burned a ton of calories faking that I hated being fused to Matteo’s crotch.