Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
They all did, judging by the horrified looks in their faces. Tiernan’s attention halted on Angelo Bandini, and a chill chased across my spine. The dread that slowly dripped into my gut all day turned into a tidal wave.
Why did Angelo unsettle me so much?
Why was the sight of my brother-in-law so distressing to me?
“You know, I never was a fan of Italian weddings.” Tiernan dragged his thumb across my lower lip, parting it to reveal my white teeth. “Too much pathos for my liking. Now, blood? Big fan of that. I think it’s time I shed some tonight.”
There’d be no blood on the sheets, as he very well knew.
Unless he draws it some other way.
The men in the room stood up. Cheered, clapped, whistled.
It was time.
“Move,” Tiernan ordered. One word. Yet, my entire universe shriveled into it.
When I didn’t, he gave my back a push.
I stumbled forward, and my legs did the rest, automatically carrying me toward the foyer. He glided behind me, his gaze searing the back of my neck. I tried to go as slow as humanly possible to prolong the inevitable.
When I wasn’t fast enough for the stronzo’s liking, he bypassed me and tossed me across his shoulder.
The crowd followed us up the curved stairway, hooting and throwing rice at us.
Tiernan took the curved hallway to the honeymoon suite. The one Luca and Sofia had stayed in weeks ago. And my cousins before them. Achilles and Enzo would too, once it was their time to wed.
The last thing I saw before he kicked the door shut behind us was my mother’s face peering from beyond the crowd.
Her hands moved quickly as she signaled me in ASL.
One word.
“Fight.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
LILA
As soon as the door clicked shut, Tiernan tossed me across the room on the four-poster bed like I was an old suitcase and slithered toward the writing desk. His movements reminded me of a viper seconds before striking its target. Languid, controlled, discreet.
The windows were open, allowing the briny summer breeze to drift into the room. The curtains danced playfully across the walls. I watched fixedly as he removed enough weapons from his body to start a medium-sized New York gang.
He unholstered two guns, a silencer, and a couple of knives, lining them up neatly next to an ancient flower vase, a charcuterie board, and chilled champagne with two glasses. He removed his tuxedo jacket and tie—cut, as per Italian tradition—rolling his dress shirt up inked arms corded with muscles and veins. My heart twisted into a painful knot when he turned to me. Our eyes locked.
My new husband never blinked. It made the hairs on my arms stand on end. It was like he decided to compensate for the loss of his other eye by never closing his good one.
I wanted to beg for mercy. The only thing stopping me was the knowledge that he got off on fear. I saw it the night at the fountain.
Weakness would only encourage more cruelty.
His eye landed on a painting of a crucified Jesus above the headboard.
“Your parents sure know how to set the mood.” He plucked a fig from the charcuterie board, tossing it into his mouth on his way to the en-suite bathroom. “Wait here, and don’t do anything stupid.”
“Don’t damage her.” Papa’s words haunted me.
He could leave me unmarred from the shoulders up. No one would ever know.
Everything else was fair game.
I didn’t waste time. Scrambling to my feet, I rushed to the desk, grabbed one of his guns—heavier than I’d imagined—and aimed it at the open bathroom door with shaky fingers. He reemerged a few moments later, zipping himself.
A gun was aimed at his head. Yet, all he did was stare at me with leisured amusement, like I was a lab rat trying to work out a Rubik’s Cube.
I was used to being underestimated. Still, for some reason, I couldn’t bear that this man thought I was so toothless.
“Put that down, Gealach. That is a grown-up toy. I’ll have your mother send your crayons and coloring books over tomorrow.” Tiernan fished out his phone, frowning at a text message. I knew the basic mechanics of guns from watching the men in my family handling them.
I flicked the safety with my thumb.
The sound made Tiernan’s gaze flit back to me.
He sighed. “Fuck’s sake.” He flew toward me, grabbed the gun by the mouth, seized the silencer from the vanity table, and screwed it on. “It’s one in the morning. Show some decorum.” He handed the gun back to me, staring at me with a glint in his eye, daring me to hurt him. He pushed his chest against the gun, his dark gaze penetrating my soul, squeezing it with his ice-cold fist.
His heart thudded against the silencer.
Slow. Steady. Calm.
Not one muscle in his face moved.
He was calling my bluff.