Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 143870 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 719(@200wpm)___ 575(@250wpm)___ 480(@300wpm)
“I know it doesn’t feel like it right now.” He takes my hands in his. “But everything’s going to be okay, piccola. Let’s just get through one thing at a time.”
I find myself nodding along as numbness sets in, though I’m not sure how any of it’s going to be okay.
Regardless, Cristian drives me to the marina.
An hour later, I’m on Black Stag Island, secured behind the fortress of the Vitale family estate.
It’s late, so the house is quiet, and Cristian takes me directly to his wing. As he leads me down the corridor, I realize we only made it as far as a guest room the last time we were here.
Tonight, he takes me to the primary suite, and it looks like something straight out of a gothic fairy tale.
Black trim frames the dark green walls, where metallic tree branches climb toward the ceiling inside dramatic arched wood panels.
Moonlight spills through the floor-to-ceiling windows, creating a moody, dreamlike atmosphere. Dark wood tables, ornate gold mirrors, and raven motifs give the space an Art Deco feel that I can’t help but love.
Intricate vine patterns are etched into a set of French doors, where a brass telescope stands nearby. And at the center of it all is an emerald velvet wingback bed that has to be the biggest one I’ve ever seen. It dominates the room, a sleeping throne fit for the Raven King.
“Not what you expected?” Cristian murmurs, watching me as I take it all in.
“I bet you’re really missing sleeping on the sofa right about now.” I force some levity into my voice, because if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry.
A shadow of a smile passes over his face as he wraps me in his arms and cradles my head against his chest. “You’re safe here. Nobody will ever get to you behind these walls.”
I swallow and nod, knowing that’s true. The Vitales have guards on patrol, gated security, and men ready to kill on sight.
“Make yourself comfortable.” Cristian’s lips ghost over my temple. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”
We linger there for a moment before he pulls away and heads for the closet. When he reappears, he’s wearing a black hoodie, sweatpants, and running shoes.
It’s the most casual I’ve ever seen him, apart from when he’s working out, and I can only assume he plans to get dirty—or bloody.
I’m not sure if his men caught the stalker, but I guess I’ll find out when he returns.
He asks me if I need anything else before he goes, then tells me not to wait up for him. But I already know I won’t be able to sleep.
On his way out the door, I call out to him.
“Hey, Cristian.”
“Yes?” He glances back at me.
“Please…be careful.”
Warmth flickers in his eyes as he nods, then a moment later, he’s gone.
I sit there for a few minutes longer, listening to the rustling of the wind in the trees outside. There wasn’t time to grab my phone, and it feels weird not having it.
With nothing else to do, I decide to explore as a means of distraction.
Drifting down the hall, I take in the Cathedral-like architecture with its arched ceilings and ornately carved columns. It’s a long, gallery-style corridor with dark hardwood floors and deep emerald green walls—a color that soon becomes a hallmark of his wing.
I pass by several more bedrooms, an office, and two additional guest bathrooms before the space opens up to a kitchen and a dining area. It’s an intimate setting with warm, polished wood and a faint scent of cedar and espresso.
Beyond that, there’s an open concept living area with marble floors, jewel-toned sofas, and ambient lighting that casts a soft glow over the space.
Along the back wall, I find my favorite feature, a Gatsby-esque bar reminiscent of a high-end speakeasy. The walls are a throwback to the jazz-age with pops of green, geometric trim, and a gold-framed liquor display.
I never would have assumed Cristian and I would have such similar tastes, but here we are. The man is full of surprises.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”
I startle at the question, whipping around to find Mariella in her pajamas.
“What are you doing here?” I press a hand to my chest, trying to calm my racing heart.
“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.” She smiles. “Cristian thought you might need some company.”
“Oh.” A wave of guilt crashes over me. “He didn’t need to wake you.”
“It’s okay. I heard you had a rough night.”
I shrug, not really wanting to talk about it, which Mariella seems to understand.
“It really is beautiful,” I answer her earlier question.
She glances around and nods. “He renovated it a few years back. I thought it was strange he developed a sudden affinity for green. But now—” She pauses to look at my eyes. “It makes more sense.”
“I’m sure he just likes the color.” I swallow.