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 know!” I scream, whipping around. “I. Know. Enzo. I’m the idiot who ran headfirst the moment I learned how to find you instead of waiting for all the information, proving I’m the fuckup my family sees me as, because what an idiot I am!”
“You do not speak about yourself like that.”
“Oh, fuck off!” A hollow laugh escapes me and I swipe at my hair, throwing it over my shoulder with an angry growl as I pace the space between us. “If I had just waited—”
“If you would have waited what?!” he shouts.
I yank my head his way, stopping in my tracks. “You know what.”
“Say it anyway,” he demands.
Okay, fine.
“If I would have found out about her, if I knew she existed at all, I never, ever would have so much as breathed in your direction.”
Enzo’s jaw is clenched tight, his nostrils flaring as he stares at me with hard, hazel eyes.
“I thought we could find a way to give each other something we didn’t have before,” I admit, watching as his brows crash in the center. “But now? I would rather remain locked in the bedroom you assigned me than live this life with you,” I seethe.
I charge for the door, but he catches my arm in a firm grip, yanking me around as he dips down in my face.
“That’s not an option for you,” he forces past clenched teeth, his face turning red. “Your life is mine now.”
“Only because you tricked me into marrying you.”
“I gave you what you asked for and I took what you promised. I see no issue.”
“And that right there is the fucking issue!” I scream. “You made a fool of me!”
“No!” he shouts so loud, so damn dark. I freeze. “I made a wife of you.”
It takes me several tries, but I finally manage a full breath, yanking my arm from his hold so hard he’s forced to let go or leave a mark. He chooses to release me, and I move back several steps.
He’s not understanding, and to be honest, I’m not sure I understand where he’s coming from either, but like my father’s earlier warning, this isn’t the place. We have an appearance to uphold here, even if I’d consider this evening a massive failure of the directive I was sold.
“I want to leave.”
“You’re not going anywhere.”
“Let me leave, Enzo.” There’s a break in my voice and I cringe at the sound, hoping he didn’t hear it, but the shift in his expression tells me he did. “This night is humiliating enough. Please don’t make me beg.”
His features tighten, slowly softening by the second, his grip right along with it.
I breathe a sigh of relief, but I should know better by now that nothing with this man is going to be easy.
His face becomes devoid of all emotions. “Our job here is not done, Boston. You go home when I do.” He stomps angrily for the door.
“You mean when we go home.”
He pauses, looking back with a frown of confusion, but it only holds for a second before he understands what I mean.
It’s not just us. It’s me and him and her.
I don’t know what I expect him to say, maybe nothing, but instead he hits me with, “Her presence goes without saying.” His eyes grow cold. “She’s family, remember? And family sticks together.”
The metaphorical key in my back has officially broken through the bone, reaching the other side.
Family sticks together yet my mother was murdered, I have a brother my father threw away, and a husband with an ex-wife he not only won’t let go of, but wants to show off…
Enzo reaches out, gently gripping my hair and laying it over my shoulder, his knuckles following its length to the very tips.
“The black market would pay heavily for a heart as hard as yours.”
“I’m aware, Little Bride. I’m aware.”
Chapter
Thirteen
Boston
By the time we get home, the anger and frustration has boiled over inside me; my mind has fallen into a blanket of numbness, nothing but the throb of my feet to be felt, the skin torn, bloody, and bruised.
Still, I don’t stop. I throw my body into overdrive and leap higher than I should, spin more than normal, and I allow my right foot to bear the weight of my body as I dip at the waist, whirling until my hand is sweeping across the floor.
As I come back up, my spine spasms and I jolt, falling over and hitting my hip on the hard floor. I hiss when my big toe slams into the wooden post of the bed.
“Dammit!” I swiftly sit up and tug my foot into my lap. I don’t have a single pair of pointe shoes, and I’m tearing my feet up more and more every day. The whole insisting I wear heels only makes it worse. So much worse.