Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 105679 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 528(@200wpm)___ 423(@250wpm)___ 352(@300wpm)
The back garden beckoned. An escape.
And so I made my way to the door Giulia had indicated. It opened with a soft creak, revealing a stone pathway winding through meticulously maintained gardens.
The air outside was crisp and clean, carrying the scent of roses and freshly cut grass. I stepped onto the path, suddenly grateful for the solitude and open space.
My heels clicked against the stone as I followed the winding trail, passing by beds of vibrantly red roses.
The path curved around a tall hedge, and suddenly the stable came into view, an elegant structure of weathered wood and stone that somehow managed to look both rustic and luxurious. It was smaller than I’d expected, clearly designed to house only a few select animals rather than a full complement of riding horses.
As I approached the stables, the scents of hay, leather, and horses filled my nostrils.
My steps flattered when a man emerged from the stable doors, wiping his hands on a cloth. His dark hair was streaked with gray, his skin tanned from the sun, and his shoulders broad. He spotted me immediately and gave a respectful nod.
“I assume you’re Miss Morelli,” he greeted me, his voice carrying a hint of an accent I couldn’t quite place. “I’m Mason. I was told you might visit today.”
He smiled, the expression softening his weathered features. “I tend to the horses.”
“I was told that Matteo has a horse for me,” I said slowly, looking around the stable.
Mason nodded, gesturing behind him. “Come see for yourself.”
I stepped into the stable’s cool interior, my eyes adjusting to the dimmer light. The space was immaculately kept, with polished wooden stalls and fresh straw underfoot.
Three horses stood in separate enclosures, two magnificent black horses that towered regally in their stalls, and a smaller chestnut one with a white blaze down its face. Its head turned toward me as I approached, dark eyes regarding me with gentle curiosity.
“This beauty here is Stella,” Mason said, moving toward the chestnut mare. “Mr. Salvatore picked her personally. She’s spirited but gentle enough for a beginner.”
I reached out tentatively, letting my fingers hover near the mare’s muzzle. She stretched forward, her velvet nose brushing against my palm in greeting.
“She’s beautiful,” I murmured, genuinely touched by the thoughtfulness of the gift, unexpected as it was. I didn’t know what to do with a horse since I knew nothing about horses.
But still, I had to thank Matteo for this. I just wasn’t sure how.
Mason was about to speak when another familiar voice cut through the stable’s tranquility.
“She’s also feisty as hell when she wants to be. Rather like someone else I know.”
Thud.
Every muscle in my body tensed at that voice—deep, smooth, and laced with that perpetual undertone of mockery. My heart stuttered traitorously in my chest as I turned.
Thud.
My pulse quickened.
Adrian leaned against the stable doorframe, his posture deceptively casual.
Thud.
The first three buttons of his black shirt were unbuttoned, revealing the strong column of his throat and a glimpse of his tanned chest. His biceps stretched over the fabric as he crossed his arms over his chest. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing thick veins alongside his forearms. Dark tattoos curled around every inch of his left arm, leaving no surface untouched.
Black pants hugged his legs, the fabric seemingly expensive. He looked like he belonged in this rustic setting yet simultaneously seemed too dangerous, too unpredictable to be contained by such simple, calm surroundings.
It was infuriating how he could belong anywhere simply by deciding that he did.
“Since I’m here, I’ll show my sister-in-law around. You can go, Mason.”
The way he said the word "sister-in-law" was almost taunting, as if he found it insulting. But I didn’t think Mason caught on. Or if he did, he acted like he didn’t.
“If you’ll excuse me, Miss Morelli,” Mason said. “If you need me, please holler.”
Before I could protest, the stableman slipped past Adrian and disappeared through a side door, leaving me alone with the last person I wanted to see.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, proud that my voice remained steady despite the chaos erupting inside me.
Adrian’s mouth curled into that infuriating half-smile that haunted my dreams. “This is the Salvatore Estate, isn’t it? Am I not a Salvatore? Where else would I be?” he questioned, stepping farther into the stable.
“Giulia said you have your own place,” I countered. “An hour away.”
His eyebrow arched slightly, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Been asking about me, Princess?”
“No!” The denial came too quickly, too forcefully.
He tsked darkly. “I find that you’re full of surprises.”
“Giulia was giving me a tour, explaining where everyone lives. That’s all. I don’t care where you live.”
“Mmm.” He made a noncommittal sound, reaching out to stroke the neck of one of the black stallions. The powerful animal leaned into his touch like a kitten seeking affection. “This is Azrael. Mine. The other black one is Matteo’s. Magnus.”