Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
“And I never did.” He cuts in. “Not really.”
My throat tightens. “That doesn’t explain anything.”
He leans back in his seat, expression unreadable. “Then don’t ask questions you aren’t ready for answers to.”
“Try me.”
His jaw ticks once. “You wouldn’t like the truth.”
“Tell me anyway.”
That earns a quiet laugh, dark and sharp. It sends a cold shiver down my spine.
“You think you want the truth? You think you can handle the version of me you created?”
“I didn’t create anything,” I snap.
He tilts his head. “Didn’t you?”
The car fills again with silence. But this silence isn’t empty. Nor is it peaceful. It’s suffocating.
I turn toward the window, watching the world slide by in expensive blurs of light.
It feels like forever, but eventually, a new estate emerges through the trees.
It’s not as large as my parents’, but it’s still very much intimidating. A massive iron gate opens without the car slowing. Armed men step aside silently.
Armed men . . . what the fuck is happening?
Where is he taking me?
“Welcome home.”
My stomach drops. “You live here?” I whisper, unable to stop myself.
Lorenzo looks out at the mansion like it’s just another tool. “I own here.”
The car glides up the circular driveway. Stone lions flank the stairs. Windows stretch wide across the facade. It looks like a palace built for a king with an anger management problem.
We pull to a stop.
I stay frozen. Lorenzo doesn’t.
He opens his door and climbs out, then leans back in, eyes glinting with amusement.
“Come on.” He gestures to the estate. “It’s time to see your new home.”
There’s that word again . . . It feels like a punch to the gut.
I step out on shaking legs.
Lorenzo stands beside me, shoulders broad. He’s watching me take in the estate. Is he enjoying this? It’s hard to tell, but my guess is yes.
Fear curls low in my stomach, but I don’t let any emotions play out over my features, even though I feel like I’ve been thrown into the ocean and can’t swim.
His brows furrow as he studies my face. “What are you thinking?”
“That’s none of your business,” I fire back, and the bastard smirks.
“Everything you think is my business.”
I cross my hands in front of my chest. “I’m not yours.”
“You keep saying that like it matters.”
“I mean it.”
He steps closer; his steps are slow and deliberate.
A predator bored enough to toy with its prey.
“Lorenzo—stop.”
He pauses and tilts his head. But it’s his smile that shakes me to the core. He’s enjoying this.
Finally, after he appraises me for a few more moments, he gestures toward the mansion doors. “Inside.”
The air shifts as we walk in, and he leads me through the front hall. My breath actually leaves my body when I look around. This place is incredible. With vaulted ceilings and marble floors. It must have cost a fortune. How can he afford this?
Memories slam into me in waves of the boy Lorenzo used to be. Then the vision fades and morphs into the man Lorenzo is now.
Scary as hell.
I stop at the base of the staircase. “We’re not sharing a room.”
He glances down at me, one brow lifting. “Of course not.”
Relief hits so fast it’s dizzying.
But he steps closer again, lowering his voice. “I have no interest in forcing a woman to fuck me.” His hand reaches out, pushing a piece of my hair off my face.
“You promised no touching.”
“I promised no touching,” he retorts. “But it’s a conditional agreement.”
“Conditional on what?”
“Your obedience.”
I go still. “I’m not your pet.”
“No,” he says softly. “Pets get affection.”
I want to slap him. Maybe kill him. I definitely want to run. But I’m smarter than that, so I do none of those things.
I lift my chin. “Separate bedrooms. No touching. No . . . anything.”
“Anything?” he echoes, amused.
“Yes. Anything.”
He studies my face a moment too long. “You’re shaking.”
“I’m exhausted.”
“You’re scared.”
I glare. “Shut up.”
He steps closer, lips curling. “Adorable.”
Anger flares bright in my chest. “Why are you doing this to me? Why did you want to marry me?”
He leans in, mouth brushing my temple—a ghost of a touch that feels nothing like affection.
“This isn’t a marriage,” he whispers. “It’s a reckoning.”
My chest tightens. “You hate me that much?”
“Oh, Little Bird,” he taunts, “you have no idea.”
His fingers close lightly around my wrist, not hard, not tender, just deliberate. He guides me up the stairs and down a shadowed hallway lined with dark wood.
He stops before a door and then swings it open.
A bedroom comes into view. One with soft lighting, cream bedding, and huge windows overlooking the forest. It’s beautiful. At least it’s a pretty cage.
“This is yours,” he says.
I take a shaky breath. “And yours?”
“Down the hall.”
I nod slowly, tension bleeding from my shoulders. “Good.”
He watches the relief wash over me, and something shifts in his expression. In the past, I would have been able to read his expressions, but I don’t know this version of Lorenzo.