Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
He’s trying to kick me out. If it weren’t so fucking hilarious, I’d be insulted, but lucky for him, I find this more than a little amusing. He probably thinks his sister is angry because of the arrangement, and I’m sure that’s a big part of it, but I suspect I know the real reason she’s livid right now.
“Send her up. We’ll have a civilized conversation.”
Carlo clears his throat. “Are you sure? I’m serious, she’s on the fucking warpath.”
“She’s going to be my wife soon. I might as well get a feel for her temper now and learn how to handle it.”
“You’re a stronger man than I am,” he mutters and gets to his feet. He gestures at his bouncers and one of them disappears. “I’ll send up fresh drinks for you and Stef and maybe some girls for your men?”
“I’ll take the drinks, but not the girls. If your sister’s as mad as you say, I think I’ll need my guards on top of their game.”
Carlo laughs and I’m only half kidding. I have a feeling she’s going to try to kill me, and I’d like it if someone were here to stop her before I have to put her down myself.
A minute later, she appears at the top of the steps, her face set in cold fury, her hands balled into fists. She’s wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, not the sexy little black dress she had on the first night we met, which would be a shame if she didn’t look so fucking good without getting dressed up. I’d seen pictures of her before coming out here from my home back in Chicago, but they were a few years old and didn’t do her justice.
She’s slim and short with thick, dark hair, and full lips that look like heaven even when they’re pressed together and bleached of color. Her body’s immaculate, curvy right where I like, and her smooth skin tastes like honey and whiskey. Her dark eyes glare into mine and Carlo’s right, she looks like she’s going to try to knee me in the dick again, but this time she isn’t going to stop until I’m puking in agony.
I find the idea of fending her off strangely arousing. Another reminder of how completely fucking broken I am.
“You shouldn’t be back here,” she says, standing over me. Bruno and Emilio move to the far side of the lounge area and pretend like they aren’t paying any attention. “If you were smart, you would’ve run back home.”
“Why would I do that? I got a little taste of my future and it turns out that I liked it.”
She takes a step forward, her shoulders trembling. “Did you know who I was?”
“Yes,” I say and cock my head at the way her nostrils flare. “Should I lie and pretend like it was a surprise?”
“No, I don’t want you to fucking lie, I just want to understand what the hell you were doing.”
I pat the chair her brother had been in just a minute ago. “Sit down and we’ll talk.”
“I’d rather stand. If I get any closer, I’m going to try to stab you in the goddamn throat. An arranged marriage? And you knew about it?” She practically gags on that last part, and if I were a normal person, I might even feel bad about it.
Instead, I feel nothing, only the urge to get the fuck out of this overly crowded building.
“I’ll remind you that you’re the one who assaulted me that night.”
“You dragged me into a bathroom,” she says and throws her hands up. “What the hell was that?”
“I planned on cleaning you up. What actually happened was a pleasant surprise.”
“You fucking knew.” She takes a step closer. “That whole time, you knew, and you didn’t say anything. You just let it happen. You let me embarrass myself.”
I hold up a hand as the waitress arrives. She puts two drinks down on the table, a wine for Stefania and another whiskey for me. I take a couple big sips, holding the glass with my left hand because the cold feels good on my scars. Stefania’s staring at the burned, mottled flesh, and when I raise my eyes questioningly, she quickly looks down at her feet.
“How was I supposed to tell you?” I ask, keeping my voice as measured as possible. “It wasn’t my place to break that news. I was there that night to meet with your brothers, not to speak with you, and what happened between us was a total fluke of good luck.”
“Good luck?” She laughs bitterly and grabs her wine, downing half in two big gulps. “God, I’m so fucking embarrassed by this whole thing, and you’re just sitting there like this is no big deal. We’re supposed to get married and we freaking—” She cuts herself off like she can’t say it.