Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Back in the bad old days, I never had to lift a finger to get dressed. Stylists would arrive, maids would zip, and pin, and adjust, and I would stand there like a doll while they turned me into whatever Salvatore wanted me to be that night.
Tonight, I did everything myself. I don’t look as perfect as they could make me look, but at least this is me. The real me. At least I chose this dress, this hairstyle, this make-up.
I smooth my hands down the silk.
Truth is: I really, really, really don’t want to go.
None of them cares about the children’s hospital. Not really.
They just want an opportunity to show off, to preen in their designer gowns, to gossip and tear each other apart behind pretty smiles and perfectly manicured nails. I already know exactly what they think of me. I know they gossiped about me constantly, and now that I’ve married Ricci, they call me a slut. They say I jumped from one powerful man to the next before my husband was even cold in the ground. The whispers have probably been growing sharper and nastier with every retelling. But really, they’re just jealous. Every single one of them would give their right hand to be married to Ricci. They want what I have. The power, the status, and the man himself.
And that jealousy makes them vicious.
They made sure not to ask for the check. I wish they had. I’d rather just write a cheque and be done with it. Something generous enough to make the hospital happy and keep my name out of their mouths. I know Ricci couldn’t be bothered whether we went or not. He’s never once tried to control me the way Salvatore did. But I want to support him. Even if it’s only by standing at his side and looking the part. Even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if every step I take tonight will feel like walking back into a world I thought I’d escaped.
A knock sounds on the door.
My heart gives a little jump, the way it always does when I know it’s him. I call out, my voice a touch unsteady, “Come in.”
The door opens, and Ricci steps inside.
The sight of him steals the breath right out of my lungs.
He’s in a luxurious black tuxedo, perfectly tailored, the fabric caressing his broad shoulders and narrow waist. Why wouldn’t it? It was made for him alone. His dark hair is brushed back from his clean-shaven face. He towers. Like a general. Or a king who could command a room with a glance. Even back when I was Salvatore’s wife, my breath used to catch every time I saw him dressed like this. Back then the feeling never went beyond how devastatingly good he looked in a tux. Now it’s different. So different.
A fire ignites in my belly, sudden and fierce. Then he was a stranger. Now he is mine. And all I can think about is peeling that tux off of him. Slowly, deliberately, inch by inch. I think of me pushing him down onto the bed, climbing on top of him, and taking exactly what I want. The image is so vivid it makes me wet under the silk, heat blooming hot and urgent between my legs.
He stands in the doorway, eyes locking on me.
For a long moment neither of us speaks.
The silence stretches, thick and electric, the only sound the faint hum of the city far below the windows. I feel exposed under his gaze, but in the best possible way. My fingers twitch at my sides, and I have to fight the urge to reach up and smooth the unruly loose tendrils at my neck.
I swallow, my voice a little unsteady. “Do I look okay?” I touch one of the rebellious curls self-consciously. “I’m afraid my hair’s a bit of a mess.”
His gaze moves over me slowly from the off-the-shoulder neckline to the upper swell of my breasts bare, down the long line of red silk that clings to my waist and hips, all the way to the floor, then back up again. When his eyes finally meet mine in the mirror, the look in them is full of awe.
“You look breathtaking,” he growls.
The sincerity in his voice, the way his jaw tightens like he’s physically holding himself back, makes me believe him. He really does think I look good.
He steps closer and reaches into the inside pocket of his tuxedo jacket. “I have something for you.”
I watch him in his reflection as he moves behind me. Both of us are facing the mirror now. His body is so close I can feel the heat radiating from him. I gasp when he places the necklace around my neck. It’s a stunning string of emeralds, and the stones are the exact green of my eyes. How did he find such an amazing match? The emeralds seem to be alive against my collarbone. It’s too much. Too beautiful. For a second I can’t breathe.