Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 422(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I meant what I said. I’m going to give Adriano a chance because, except for the nasty business with conning me into marrying him and killing that man, he hasn’t physically hurt me.
If he weren’t a mob boss, he’d be perfect. My very own Pretty Woman moment.
So, I’m going to get to know the man I suddenly find myself married to, because whether he terrifies me or not, I’m tied to him for the unforeseeable future.
I take the last bite of the pasta and pat my mouth with the napkin. “Thank you,” I say, my gaze darting all over Adriano, where he’s sitting on the other couch. “It was delicious.”
“You’re welcome.”
I get up, and out of habit, I take his empty plate and carry it to the kitchen. On my way to the sink, I notice a dishwasher, and a smile curves my lips.
I always wanted one, but Austin said he didn’t trust a machine to clean the dishes he has to eat from.
Setting the plates down on the counter, I open the door and try to figure out how it works.
“Laurie.”
“Yeah?” I lift my head, but seeing the hard lines on Adriano’s face, I straighten up.
“Leave the dishes.”
I glance at the plates, and at least wanting to put them in the sink, I reach for them, but Adriano hauls me away from the counter before setting me back down on my feet.
“Okay,” the word bursts from me. “No touching the dishes.”
“Brava ragazza,” he grumbles while he packs everything into the dishwasher.
I like that he calls me his little butterfly in Italian, and wanting to know more, I ask, “What do the words mean?”
He shuts the door of the dishwasher, then locks eyes with me. “Good girl.”
I swear my ovaries self-combust, and quickly pressing my hand to my clenching abdomen, I breathe through the wave of desire that almost knocks me onto my ass.
Holy hotness.
My reaction doesn’t escape Adriano’s attention, and smirking at me, he says, “That’s a turn-on for you.”
Yep.
He comes to take my hand, and leading me out of the kitchen, he murmurs, “Good to know.”
I was too terrified to take in anything earlier, so I admire the immense luxury of the mansion as we head toward the back. Adriano opens the glass doors, and when I step onto a veranda, I glance over the massive backyard, the lawn so perfectly cut it almost doesn’t look real.
Maybe it’s that fake grass you just hose off when it gets dirty?
Lounge chairs line either side of a rectangular pool, the water blue and inviting. Beautiful potted flowers bring splashes of color to the swimming area, like everything has been staged for a magazine shoot.
As soon as we step onto the grass, I realize it’s very real.
Adriano’s fingers wrap tightly around mine again, and I’m taken down a path toward the other houses.
Shit. His parents!
Instantly my nerves spiral, and a fine layer of sweat breaks out all over my body. I grip his hand tighter, and it has him stopping dead in his tracks.
Giving me a worried look, he asks, “What’s wrong?”
Damn, he’s perceptive.
“Are we going to your parents?”
He nods, and letting go of my hand, he places his arm around my shoulders and pulls me snug against his side. “You have nothing to worry about.”
We start moving again, and after taking three steps, I halt like a stubborn donkey. “Wait. What are they going to think of me?”
“They’re going to love you.”
I shake my head hard. “Think about it for a second. I agreed to a crazy deal with you for ten million dollars, then married you the next day. Shit, they’re going to think I’m some gold-digger.”
Turning around, determined to go back to the mansion, I’m stopped by Adriano’s arm that tightens around me, hauling me to his chest.
He pinches my chin between his index finger and thumb, then takes my eyes captive. “They will not think that. I already told them everything. They know you had no choice.” The corner of his mouth lifts. “If anything, my mother is going to dote on you to make sure I didn’t traumatize the fuck out of you.”
I place my hands against his pecs, then realize what I’m touching and quickly pull away.
Yep, Adriano feels as defined as he looks.
“My track record with families isn’t exactly great,” I admit.
My own practically hates me.
“That’s a thing of the past.” He hooks his arm around the back of my neck, keeping me tucked in against him as we walk toward the last house.
A woman with wild golden-brown curls comes around the side of the house, a basket of roses in her hand.
She looks like a model that’s stepped out of some luxury country estate advertisement.
“Ma,” Adriano calls out, making her head snap in our direction.
Out of shock, I gasp, “No way, she’s way too young to be your mother.”