Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
I say nothing, and while irritation flickers across his forehead in the form of small creases, he doesn’t leave me to wonder as I would have expected.
“Your father was superseded for his actions, the union refusing to overlook the breach of contract. He was forced to pass the torch to your sister, who passed it to Bastian, which works much better for me. He’s far more open to change than your father was.”
His words roll through my mind like a wave, crashing against all the plans that led me to this man in the first place.
I was intended to be the bridge between the two families, merging my father’s organization with Enzo’s, but it seems they built one on their own. My throat grows thick, my mind spinning with thoughts, but only one settles in the forefront of my mind.
What good am I to you then?
Of course I don’t say those exact words, instead leading with, “If that’s true, why did you bring me back here?”
He leans close, so close the heat of his breath fans over my lips. “I bought you, did I not?”
The blow of his words hits harder than I’d care to admit, but I don’t know why. They’re not entirely unexpected, and are undeniably true.
Enzo bought me, like a ciabatta from Ciaro’s Bakery, but what happens when I’m no longer fresh from the oven, but sour and covered in mold?
I try to turn away, but he doesn’t allow it, snaring me by the waist before I can blink. His gaze narrows intrusively, so I close my eyes to hide from him.
A harsh flash flickers over my eyelids and I blink, looking to the left. A man is crouched about five feet away, camera poised in his hands.
He gives a curt nod and Enzo releases me, stepping back.
“As I said before, no one knows we’re married.” He begins peeling off last night’s shirt, and my attention snaps to his long, textured fingers, following as they push each button through their holes one at a time. “We will feed our people slowly. A tease, a taste, a feast. We will leave no one to question the authenticity of our relationship.”
He peels the shirt from his shoulders, revealing his bare chest to me for the first time, and my pulse does a little jump.
His skin is taut and deep golden in color. I don’t know if I expected a body covered in tattoos to give him the dark disposition his mere presence delivers, but his skin is untouched by ink. Instead, he wears his scars proudly, sharp cuts that slightly raise the skin near his ribs, and deep brown slashes over his pecs, wounds that healed but didn’t quite fade.
He tosses the shirt to a person I didn’t see walk up and faces me, the slight shifting of his body tightening every muscle across his form, making his abs constrict and muscles flex enticingly.
Dickhead or not, there’s no denying he is a sight. A golden god, the sun beating down on his back making him appear heaven-sent when really, a devil dwells beneath his skin.
My eyes catch onto the pendant around his neck, and once again I wonder what hangs from the expensive chain.
“Do you understand what I’m saying to you?” he asks, gaze roaming over my expression, a hint of amusement settling over his own.
“You want people to believe we chose each other.”
He tsks his tongue. “We did choose each other.”
I roll my eyes and he lifts a brow. Okay, so technically we did, in the sense I went to him and asked if he wanted an easy way into the Revenaw empire, and he said yes.
“As a matter of convenience, sure, but now you want people to think our relationship is real and not a simple business transaction? That’s not in the contract—”
“I gave you my name,” he hisses. “Our relationship is as real as it gets.”
Annoyance, watered down by something I can’t quite name, trickles through me, and I sigh, smoothing my hair down in exasperation. He tracks the movement before looking back to me expectantly.
“Then I guess no, Enzo, I don’t know what you mean.” My aggravation is obvious in my tone.
He moves so fast I don’t see him coming until I feel the hard planes of his muscles against my body. “Yes, you do.” I swallow, and his eyes blacken. “You know exactly what I mean.”
Do I, though?
“Why did you fire that man?” I blurt out.
Enzo’s expression hardens before going completely blank. “Why do you care?”
“I liked him.”
His body goes rigid, and slowly, he cocks his head. “You…liked him.”
Why do I feel like that was the wrong thing to say?
He crowds me some more. “Tell me, what did he do to make you…like him?”
“He was good at his job, paid attention. He was kind to me.”