Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
I laugh it off. “No, no, this is fine.”
But the moment we enter my bedroom, I’m in awe at all the opulence around me. A red velvety chair in the corner, an expensive boudoir made entirely of hardwood, silver-flaked windows with long drapes, and a double king-size bed close to the floor, bamboo around it, and behind it a long waterfall cascading from the ceiling to the floor into a small pond.
“Oh my God,” I mutter to myself as I look around.
“You like it?” he asks. “I had it styled myself. I wanted it to represent an escape to nature, a sort of tranquil meditation room.”
I can’t believe this is merely a guest room.
“But I have another room if you don’t like this one,” he says.
“This is perfect,” I murmur.
It’s everything I could ever want, everything I ever dreamed of as a little girl to live in a house like this. But my dreams never ended in a marriage to a certified Mafia don.
I gaze down at the ring around my finger, and my stomach twirls into knots. This ring doesn’t belong to me. I didn’t marry this man by choice. I married him to save myself and to get far away from Lucio. But at what cost?
“How long are we going to keep this up?” I glance at him over my shoulder, feeling the weight of my own words. But God, those gorgeous eyes make it so hard to focus.
He licks his bottom lip. “As long as required.”
“How long?” I press.
I don’t want to be stuck in this limbo forever.
He narrows his eyes at me and steps closer, too close for comfort, and I find it hard to focus on anything other than his prominent buff features in that tightly fitted suit of his. I’m sure he must be totally ripped underneath all that fabric, and he makes me gulp just by getting close.
God, how does he have this effect on me?
I don’t even know this guy. We’ve only been married for less than a day.
“Are you already looking for a divorce, wife?” he asks with a half smile and tilted head.
“I didn’t say that,” I reply. “I meant, how long are we going to keep up this farce?”
He grabs a strand of my hair, surprising me as he tucks it behind my ear and gently caresses my cheek, and I nearly melt into a puddle on this hardwood floor.
“If it’s up to me? Forever.”
Forever? No, that’s not a possibility I even want to entertain right now, but if I go against it, I might anger this Mafia lord, and that’s not in my best interest, so I play along.
“What are you going to do about Lucio? He’s your enemy, right?” I ask.
“He is, yes,” he replies.
Short response. He’s definitely hiding his true motives. Maybe he doesn’t trust me as much as I don’t trust him. I don’t want to sound rude, but I wonder if he knows how far Lucio is willing to go for me.
“Lucio’s not going to let this rest,” I say.
“I’m well aware,” he replies.
“What if he comes for me?”
He doesn’t seem even remotely worried. “Then I’ll be ready.”
“I’m not joking,” I say.
“I wasn’t either. I know Lucio very well, I’m afraid. But he also knows not to anger me.”
“But he knows where I am now. He knows where you live, right?”
“Absolutely not.”
“But he’ll come for me, I’m sure of it. You two are enemies. I’m not safe here.”
“You are as safe as you can be here, Tesoro, with my guards and me watching over you. There’s not a place on this earth you are safer than you are here.”
His words are full of conviction, as if he wants to reassure me of his devotion to defending me. But I don’t want to be stuck here forever without the people I love.
“When can I have my phone?”
“Soon,” he replies.
Always those cryptic answers that mean nothing.
“What if I want to leave the house and go somewhere?” I ask.
He slowly shakes his head. “That’s not possible, I’m afraid.”
My brows flinch. “What do you mean?”
“Right now, it’s not safe to do so. I’m sorry.”
“Okay. What about next week?”
His nostrils flare. “I can’t make any promises.”
“Next month?” I press.
He remains silent and stoic, and his intentions slowly filter into my brain like snowflakes on a cold day, making me shiver.
I fold my arms. “Do you intend to keep me here forever? Locked away in this gilded prison? Because that’s it, right? I’m your prisoner now.”
He sighs out loud. “I’m sorry, Tesoro. It is for the best.”
When he turns around and walks off, I say, “You can’t do this.”
“Yes, I can, and I already have,” he replies.
When he waltzes out the door, I attempt to follow, but his guards block my way.
“Let me through,” I demand, but they don’t listen to me. They only obey him.