Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109674 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 439(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Nestore motioned at one of the maids who rang a small bell. Soon after, another maid entered the room with a tray. A roasted duck perched in its center, surrounded by roasted carrots and brussels sprouts. She put it down in front of Nestore. He picked up a long, gleaming knife from the serving platter and began carving the bird. At least he wasn’t using the knife he made from my father’s bone, though I was sure he still had it.
I shivered. If Nestore intended to unsettle me, he was succeeding.
When he was done, he got up and carried the serving platter over to me. The maids left the room. “What piece would you like?”
He had cut the duck into two breasts and two legs.
I pointed at the breast. He lifted it onto my plate, then cut it into thin slices so I could see it was medium rare inside. Meat juice gathered at my place. Nestore put the vegetables down beside the breast before returning to his side of the table and serving himself.
I stared down at the duck breast, my belly clenching. I loved duck, and I always took my steak medium rare, so I could only blame my squeamishness on the situation.
“Enjoy your food,” Nestore said, almost in challenge.
I speared a piece of meat with my fork and pushed it into my mouth before I forced a petulant smile. Nestore took a bite, but never took his eyes off me. “I have been dreaming about your taste.”
My expression fell, my mind tumbling over images of cannibalism.
Nestore chuckled and leaned back, giving me an enticing view of his six-pack and the trail of dark hair disappearing inside his black pants. “I’m not that depraved. I’m talking about tasting your pussy.”
My heart pounded even faster, and warmth settled in my cheeks, then seemed to drop into my core. “What about Flavia and Luciano? Will they be allowed to attend our wedding?”
The switch of topic was necessary to keep my sanity.
“No. They aren’t welcome in my territory.”
“But they are safe?” I whispered.
“I have no interest in punishing Flavia.”
Relief eased the weight off my chest. “Only me?”
“Only you. I’m still not sure what punishment you deserve.”
On the morning of our wedding day, the seamstress came over again. Today was the first time I would see my wedding dress. I was nervous. What if Nestore had picked something morbid for it? Even though this wedding wasn’t my choice, I wanted a dress I felt comfortable in.
Francoise entered my bedroom with two men holding a giant white clothing bag. They had trouble carrying it into my room because it was so voluminous.
Once they had left and closed the door, Francoise unzipped the bag. I stepped closer, my breath catching in my throat as she lifted the dress on a hanger with obvious strain. The dress was magnificent, more beautiful than anything I’d ever imagined, even in my most daring fantasies. It looked as if the fabric of the bodice had been woven of white gold yarn and adorned with minuscule diamonds, lace roses, and pearls. Due to the many pearls attached to the fabric, it was rather stiff, almost like armor. The collar and sleeves were made of silk and adorned with gemstones and pearls. The inside of the dress was as smooth as water as it glided over my fingertips.
“Did you sew it alone?”
This looked like a project that took months, not a week.
“Yes. Mr. Romano handed me a drawing of the dress he wanted, and I sewed it based on it.”
My eyes grew wide with surprise.
“Let’s put this on so I can see if I need to make any last-minute adjustments.”
She helped me undress to my underwear, then pulled out lace panties from the clothing bag. They were sheer in the back and in the front, except for a lace rose covering my most private area. I flushed as I picked them up. These little nothings wouldn’t cover much. “What about a bra?”
“The dress doesn’t allow for one.”
She gave me an understanding smile, then turned her back to me and hung the dress by the hanger on the doorframe. I quickly removed my underwear and put on the panties, then covered my breasts with my hands. “You can turn around.”
She turned with a kind smile, then moved to my side with the petticoat. “There’s a nightgown and lingerie in the clothing bag for tonight.”
Tonight. The color drained from my face. Our wedding night.
I had fantasized about sweet lovemaking with Nestore in the past. Even after I’d run away, he’d often appeared in my dreams. It had always been sweet and loving. What Nestore had in mind was far from my fantasy. He wanted to claim me and to prove a point.
The seamstress’s face filled with pity, but she didn’t say anything. I was glad she didn’t try to assure me things would be okay. She knew Nestore, or at least the stories everyone told about him, so there was nothing she could have said to improve my situation.