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)
“That’s not the only thing you underestimated,” I quip.
He tilts his head. “True.”
“That’s a mistake I won’t allow you to make a second time,” I add.
A filthy grin forms on his face. “Good. Keeps me on edge.”
“Have you come to gloat in your victory, seeing me back in my place here?”
His brows flinch downward. “It’s only temporary.”
“Right. Just like keeping me a prisoner in this house is.” I look right back at him.
“One escape was enough,” he says.
“So you barred off my only way out of this house like a prison guard would? Fantastic.”
He steps closer. “To keep you safe, Tesoro. I don’t want you running off again without me noticing and having you end up in the wrong hands.” Suddenly, he places a hand on my shoulder. “You’re far too precious for that.”
I suck in a breath and let his words sink in. “Are you angry with me for escaping?”
His incessant gaze is hard to look away from, almost as if his eyes alone hold power over me. “I’m not mad at you, Tesoro. I wanted to be, trust me. But it’s my fault that I chased you away, and that I had to kill those men to get you back.” He pauses. “I apologize for blaming you.”
When he said those words, I couldn’t stay in his house a minute longer. Even when I tried so hard not to cause any more deaths, their blood is still on my hands.
But I am grateful he said he was sorry.
Suddenly, he tips up my chin and makes me look at him through the mirror.
“Don’t avert your eyes from your own beauty. You are not to blame for their deaths. Do you hear me?”
I nod.
“Good girl.”
A shiver runs up my spine and down again.
Good girl …
How do those words have such an intense effect on me?
“Now tell me why you ran.”
Even though I know I shouldn’t answer a devil like him, it’s the way he says it with such conviction that I feel obligated to obey. As though the mere sound of his commanding voice can persuade me to give up my thoughts freely.
I lick my lips. “When you told me those people at the restaurant died because Lucio wants me back, I felt so guilty. I just couldn’t stomach it.” Tears well up in my eyes. “All of those people died because Lucio wants me. He’ll do anything to get to me. He’ll kill all of your staff. Every last person who works for you. He won’t stop.”
With his thumb, Matteo brushes away the single tear that rolls down my cheek. “None of this is your fault, Tesoro. This was my choice to make. Those deaths are on my hands, not yours. And I would never, ever hurt you. But I also never want to make you cry again.”
I suck in a breath. “I …”
He smiles at me through the mirror. “Every tear you shed on his behalf, I will pay Lucio back tenfold.”
My pupils dilate. “You want to go to war with him and the entire Agostini family? That’s insane.”
Matteo’s nostrils flare as he blows out a breath. “The only thing that matters now is that you’re safe and that you’re here with me.”
Way to avoid the question.
“I don’t understand why you want me so badly that you won’t allow me to leave your house. That you’ll kill people over me, that you’ll go to war with another Mafia family because of me.”
He pulls something from his pocket and plays with it a little, but I can’t tell what it is, only that it’s metallic.
“Because that’s what you’re worth to me, Tesoro. You’re worth everything, and I would risk it all, even my life, to keep you out of his claws.”
And I don’t know if it is his egotistical need to destroy Lucio that’s talking right now, or if he’s truly become obsessed with me.
He grabs a few strands of my hair and gently slides them aside, brushing my skin near my neck, and goose bumps scatter all over my body. Something metallic slithers around my throat, and I gasp as my own wedding ring is hung around my neck, sealed tightly with a clasp.
“I found this on the floor in your room the other day,” he says. “Since you so quickly discarded my love and refuse to keep it around your finger, I thought it might be easier for you to carry it around your neck.”
He presses the ring down on my clavicle, his eyes blazing with passion. “Close to your heart.”
“It’s just a ring,” I say.
His fingers won’t leave my skin. “It’s not just a ring. It’s a symbol of my devotion to you, and I hope that you take yours just as seriously.”
He flaunts his own ring in the mirror, the same ring I put around his finger the moment we said our vows and became husband and wife. Something he seems to seriously want to take to the grave, and it’s only now slowly starting to settle with me.