Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 745(@200wpm)___ 596(@250wpm)___ 497(@300wpm)
“Hello?”
“Gabi.” He greets me in a clipped tone. “You know, when I agreed to marry you, I told Michael it was a good idea for you to finish school. But if it’s getting in the way of our future—”
“It’s not,” I say quickly, panic sinking in.
There’s no doubt that’s a threat, and I don’t have to question whether Michael would allow him to pull the plug on my senior year. He can’t get rid of me fast enough.
“You’re going to be my wife,” Riccardo grits out. “That’s your priority. All you have to do is show up and look pretty. It’s really not that hard. My investors want to meet you, so this is nonnegotiable.”
I close my eyes, fighting the pressure behind them. “Okay.”
“Put on that black dress you wore at Angelo’s birthday party. I want you to look hot but not trashy. Take a picture and send it to me before you leave so I can see your hair and makeup.”
I shudder at the thought of him having a photo of me on his phone, not to mention him leading me around like a show pony in that dress. But he knows exactly what he’s doing by leveraging my final year of college. I don’t have a choice.
“Alright.”
“The event is in the IVI banquet room at 6:30. Leave your dog at home, and don’t be late.”
I force a sound of agreement, and he hangs up without a goodbye.
Beppe tries to comfort me while I spend the next few minutes dissociating. I don’t want to leave him behind, but Riccardo has me in a chokehold.
With what little time I have left, I force myself into action and follow his instructions. The black organza babydoll dress he commanded me to wear hits mid-thigh, and it’s not something I would have chosen for an investors' dinner. It’s my go-to party dress, but tonight it feels more like funeral attire.
I pair it with the same black satin platform heels that I always do because I’m short on time, and then I touch up my makeup. After a few dabs of setting powder and a quick hair check, I snap a picture and glare at the screen as I send it to Riccardo.
In contrast to the photos I send Eros, this one makes me feel gross and cheap. I can’t imagine what it will be like when I actually have to let him touch me. The thought turns my stomach.
Riccardo: Try again. Send me one with a smile this time.
My grip on the phone tightens as I stare at his directive.
I always suspected Riccardo would be domineering in the worst way, and now he’s starting to show me his true colors.
I don’t want to comply, but again, I think of school as I plaster on a fake smile and send him the updated picture.
Riccardo: Much better. You’d do well to remember that I’m investing in you, Gabi. I expect a return.
It’s tempting to send him back a barf emoji, but I choose self-preservation instead.
Gabi: See you in a little bit.
When I lead Beppe down the hall, I find Julian cleaning up his dinner dishes in the kitchen. He takes a look at me and frowns.
“Going somewhere, Miss Bianchi?”
“Riccardo has requested my presence at the IVI banquet room,” I answer solemnly. “I have to be there at six-thirty, and he said I can’t bring Beppe, so I’ll have to take him out first.”
Julian’s jaw tightens as he nods. “Get his bag. I’ll keep him with me during the event.”
The pressure around my ribs loosens a fraction. “Are you sure? Riccardo might get angry.”
“Fortunately for me, I don’t answer to Riccardo.”
Relief hits me hard as I lean down and stroke Beppe’s fur. Just having him close will make me feel better. He’ll calm my nerves on the car ride and give me the courage to do what I have to tonight.
“I’ll be right back,” I tell Julian.
I return to my room and grab Beppe’s tote bag, and as I’m walking back down the hall, I hear Julian speaking quietly to someone on the phone. But by the time I reach him, he’s already ended the call.
“Ready to go?” He joins me at the elevator.
I blow out a breath. “As much as I can be.”
12
GABRIELA
“What part of don’t bring the dog did you not understand?” Riccardo glares at Beppe as I hand him over to Julian.
I twist my fingers together as anxiety balloons in my chest, but Julian saves me from answering.
“I’m under strict instructions to keep her dog with her at all times.”
I blink up at Julian, wondering why he’d cover for me, because I know Michael didn’t give him that directive.
Riccardo clenches his jaw, probably assuming that’s the case because it’s how things work in our world. Our fathers dictate the rules until we marry, and then it becomes our husbands’ job.