Total pages in book: 132
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 127249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
“Tiana,” she cries out. “Where are you going?”
Suppressing a sob, I grab my keys from the bowl on the entrance table. “I need to be alone.”
Afraid that I’ll run into one of the neighbors, I don’t use the elevator. I fly down the stairs, barely feeling the exertion of the fifteen floors. I ignore the doorman because I don’t want him to see me crying. I burst through the main door onto the sidewalk with no idea where I’m going.
I wish I could run away, but I don’t want to leave my mom on her own. She’s miserable in her marriage, and she’s sacrificed so much for us. I’m not going to do that to her after she’s only ever been there for me. Leander never spends time with her.
Besides, the bruises that recently started appearing on her arms and face aren’t from accidentally walking into doors as she claims. I’m all she’s got, the only one who can protect her. My father has never raised his hand to me. He mostly just ignores me. When he drinks and gets upset, I lock my mom in my room. He’s yet to come in there. So for now, she’s safe with me.
Unbearable sadness makes my tears fall faster. Until this morning, I had hopes and dreams. My father won’t let me study. Only Leander was allowed to go to college, not that he deserved the chance. He’s flunked his majors—again. My destiny is to marry and bear heirs. I do want a husband and babies, so I don’t mind that too much. What I do mind is a pervert of a husband almost three times my age. That definitely didn’t feature in my dreams about a white wedding and a worthy groom. I never hoped to be betrothed to a handsome or compassionate man. Knowing how it works in our life, I didn’t expect love. I only wanted someone I respected and closer to my own age. I hoped for friendship, at least.
Making an impulsive decision, I turn in the direction of the park. The cold penetrates the light cashmere sweater and lounge pants I wear in the condo. My city sneakers aren’t suitable for the snow. In my rush to get away, I didn’t even take my coat or scarf. I don’t have money or my cell phone with me. I just wanted to go someplace where I could curl up into a ball and hide.
I tuck my hands under my armpits to warm my freezing fingers and trudge on with my head held low, my tears blurring my vision. I haven’t made it a few yards when my progress is halted brutally as I crash into a hard chest. I bounce off that wall of steely muscles, nearly losing my footing before strong hands lock gently but firmly around my upper arms and steady me.
My blurry gaze falls on a pair of fancy dress shoes and dark tailored pants showing beneath the hem of a black wool coat.
The first thing that hits me, even before I look up, is how good he smells. His aftershave is sophisticated and subtle, something woodsy and spicy. The fragrance is pleasant and, surprisingly, familiar.
Without meaning to, I inhale deeply, trying to memorize the scent. Or maybe, on some subconscious level, I want to eternalize the intoxicating fragrance of virile masculinity by imprinting it in my senses.
A suave, baritone voice flays me open, cutting through flesh and bone right to the marrow. “Are you all right?”
Invisible fingers walk down my spine, inviting a shiver that has nothing to do with the cold. “I’m so sorry—”
I lift my gaze, and then the words fly out of my mind and scatter on the breeze in the chilly, brittle air.
Dante Morici is staring down at me, cupping my upper arms in his large, glove-clad hands. Recognition stirs in my belly instead of my brain. His dark-blond hair is tussled around his face, framing his painfully handsome features in the sexiest, most alluring way. His golden eyes are as intense as ever, piercing my chest and rummaging through the most private feelings buried deep in my heart.
Said organ triples in its beat.
No, no, no.
I don’t want him to see me like this.
“I—” I swallow. “I didn’t watch where I was going.”
He frowns as he takes me in, his gaze playing over my face, but his tone is soft and cajoling. “Hey.”
His compassion and concern are so earnest that I only cry harder. To my mortification, I can’t stop.
He sweeps his hands over my shoulders and up the curve of my neck until he frames my face between his broad palms. Goosebumps break out over my skin in the wake of his touch. The leathery smell of his soft suede gloves as well as the warmth that seeps through them into my wet, frozen cheeks are comforting.