Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“Oh, no…” Sarah runs to me and wraps her arms around me. “Don’t cry.”
It’s not her fault. None of this is.
But I was nearly …
Nearly …
Fuck.
“Please, don’t be upset,” Sarah says.
“I’m not. It’s just that … it’s a lot to process.”
She tightens her hold. “I understand.”
I lean away. “I’m okay. Don’t worry about me.”
“That’s difficult after watching you escape like that,” she responds, making me laugh.
“Sorry,” I say.
“Don’t be. Matteo just needs to learn how to be a little … nicer to you,” she says. “That’s all.”
She grabs the sponge again and starts dabbing my skin, cleaning off every inch of me until the blood and dirt are gone and my body looks like nothing ever happened to it.
“There, much better,” she says.
She holds out a pair of leggings and a comfy-looking white sweater. “Put this on before you get cold.”
I can’t even protest as she throws the sweater over my head.
“Thanks,” I reply.
“That’s my job, miss. I’m here to take care of your every need, just as Matteo asked.”
Matteo really wants me to be taken care of, and that’s exactly what grates me so much. How can a man I tried to kill still harbor so much kindness for me? He hates Lucio so much that he stole me away from him, yet he hasn’t laid a single finger on me despite turning me into a pawn in his game of revenge.
Suddenly, my stomach growls, and I’m too late to hide the noise from Sarah.
She looks up at me. “You want me to fetch you some food? Or if you want, you can come downstairs with me, and I’ll prepare some for you in the kitchen.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go anywhere right now.”
She nods. “Of course, I totally understand. Just stay right here, and I’ll grab some food for you. No problem.”
She walks off and closes the door behind her, leaving me all to myself with the wild thoughts raging through my head. I can’t believe I narrowly escaped getting taken by three disgusting men … And that Matteo just shot them all in the head like it was easy for him. He protected me, just like he said he would, regardless of whether it would cost someone their life.
He rescued me.
I shudder in disbelief. The bloodied image of the men’s bodies strewn about the road still haunts me. It’s as if I’m still there near the wreckage of their car, shivering in fear at what they almost did to me … And Matteo’s hand, kindly offered to me in a moment of desperation. I wanted nothing more than to grab it and hold on tight.
A fuzzy warmth fills my body while I stare at these hands that held his as he pulled me up from the ground and carried me back to his car.
Not once did he try to punish me for running away even though I know I did, and I know he hates it. Could it be …?
A sudden noise coming from the bathroom makes me lift my head, and I get up from the floor and step a little closer to see what the hell is going on. There’s a guy right outside my window, placing one bar after the other, tightly sealing in the window so no one will ever be able to crawl out of it again.
The hopeful feeling that lingered in my heart gets shut down immediately. Of course, Matteo immediately bars my only way out. Now that he knows how I got out, he doesn’t want it to happen again.
And I was wrong to think that he’d ever change.
A few days later
When my door opens, I stop brushing my hair in the mirror and wait until the person knocking on my door reveals themselves.
“May I come in?”
It’s him. Matteo.
I haven’t seen him since we last spoke, and I wonder whether he wanted to give me some time to myself or was too mad to speak to me.
I swallow away the lump in my throat and say, “Come in,” as I put the brush down on the boudoir beside the mirror.
The door swings open, and he steps inside, clearing his throat. I glance up at him through the mirror, and our eyes connect in a shared moment of silence while the door closes behind him.
Has he come to scold me for my escape?
I keep a watchful eye on him, unsure of his intentions as he walks closer to me. He stops before he’s in reach.
“How are you feeling?” he asks.
“Considering the circumstances? Good,” I reply, and I throw a look at the window in my bathroom, which is now barred off completely.
It didn’t take long for him to figure out how I escaped.
He keeps his gaze settled on mine through the mirror. “I seem to have underestimated your ability to crawl through narrow gaps. I’m impressed.”