Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“Don’t worry, I can take it,” she whispered in Spanish, and I felt her hand retract from my pocket. The vial was safely concealed in a fist. She thought she could endure the punishment, but I wasn’t entirely sure I could. Watching her—
It wasn’t like I’d never taken a punch before, but when Gio’s fist hit the side of my head, the jarring action shot straight to the stab wound in my back. It wasn’t all bad. My mother had told me for years that I had a thick head, and his stream of curse words proved that. The punch must have hurt the bastard’s delicate hands, and he’d been dumb enough to not aim for a soft spot like the nose or throat. His inexperience was showing again.
“Knee,” Gio snapped.
Shit. I took a deep breath, my gaze glued to the wand. The tendons in Carlo’s hand tightened his grip and the rod drew back.
“No,” I pleaded.
The rod whipped through the air, smacking her knee with a horrific crack.
Olivia barely made a noise this time. Her mouth fell open to scream, but the pain stole all her breath so she made a gasping, choking sound, followed by a quiet hiss.
“Stop,” she whispered on a pain-soaked voice.
I jolted, straining against the ropes once more, desperate to do something. Anything. I could handle whatever they wanted to do to me, but not this. I couldn’t watch another woman suffer, most certainly not this woman.
She was barely standing, hunched over with a hand on the counter, and I watched as she slowly reached over to grab the bottle of wine, her hand shaking violently. You can do this, I silently urged because I was concerned Carlo might know some Spanish. I will help you.
The dark red wine sloshed inside the waiting glass, and beneath the hand on the counter, her thumb moved, untwisting the cap on the vial. The moment she seemed ready, I set my sights on Gio.
“You’re going to regret that,” I said in Italian.
There was a whoosh as Carlo’s wand came down and slapped against my kneecap.
“Motherfucker,” I swore, this time in English.
Holy mother of God, that hurt. The muscles in my jaw ached as I clenched my teeth, trying to stay above the pain and focus on Olivia. Her face was blank. Numb with pain, or . . . pretending to be. For once, it was impossible to know what was a lie and what was real.
She shuffled along, keeping her head up as she went past me and offered the glass to Gio, and her face took on a dark cast. “Salute.”
It was said with so much contempt, it was like she’d only just stopped herself from saying another word. Like she’d really meant to say, to your health, cocksucker.
I had no idea how much of the vial she’d dosed the glass with, but as the wine disappeared behind his lips, I hoped it had been the whole goddamn bottle. If so, his body would progressively slow down until his heart went too long between beats and his brain starved of oxygen.
Olivia would get her suffocation of Gio after all.
And I was plenty okay with that this time.
“Take off your clothes,” Gio commanded.
My mouth went dry and a chill ran down my spine, moving faster than the blood weeping from my stab wound. The hatred in her eyes dwindled and a cold, hard look replaced it. “If I don’t?”
“They’ll come off no matter what, and what we’ll do to Nathan if you refuse, it won’t be enjoyable to watch.”
Her hands moved deliberately, undoing the rest of the buttons on her blouse.
She moved at such a slow pace because she didn’t want to undress, but I was also betting it was because she was trying to buy time. Gio was young and fit, with a high metabolism. If she’d used all the sedative in the bottle, and he had an empty stomach, it could start hitting him in as little as ten minutes.
It was silent in the room, other than her rapid breathing, and the voice in my head that was currently screaming. She finished with the shirt, leaving it open on her shoulders so her pink bra peeked out.
She bent gingerly and pulled off one shoe, followed by the other. Her socks were peeled off. Trembling hands drifted to her pants. The zipper was quiet as she tugged it down, tooth by tooth.
“Faster,” Gio ordered.
The pants fell down, exposing her gorgeous curves decorated with all that pink lace. Everyone watching inhaled sharply, although mine was in horror. Purple-red raised lines tattooed her legs. Welts from the rod she’d been beaten with.
“A woman after all,” he said appreciatively. He leered over every inch of exposed flesh, and rage threatened to pull me apart.
“Before we go further,” her voice was unnervingly calm, “may I have another glass of wine?”