Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94720 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
I've always been a good girl.
The perfect daughter.
The perfect sister.
And, in two weeks, I'm supposed to become the perfect wife.
I don't know or like the man my father chose to marry me off to but I have no say in the matter.
That's why when I see Rocco Marchetti, the man I've had a crush on my entire life, I decide he'll be my first.
When he looks at me it's electric and I know he wants me.
We keep stealing glances and hiding smiles, but I want more.
I want one night with him.
Rocco Marchetti
Lenora De Luca is as forbidden as they get.
She's also kind, and thoughtful, and makes my d . . . makes it hard to think.
It starts off innocent enough, just flirting, but then she kisses me and tells me she wants to spend one night with me.
It's wrong on so many levels, but I don't even try to deny that I want her.
I tell myself that it'll be her wedding present (I know I'm sick, get over it).
I've had plenty one nightstands that end amicably.
Lenora can't possibly be any different.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
PROLOGUE
I don’t know why I thought seeing her in a wedding dress would be easy. But as the bridal song began to play and everyone stood in unison, waiting for her to walk down the aisle, the knife in my chest twisted a little deeper. Somehow, I kept my eyes on the groom — a wealthy nobleman. I didn’t care about his useless pretentious title or what his bank account looked like. I’d made it my business to find out everything about Adriano Salvati. He lived in his father’s shadow. He didn’t like getting his hands dirty, but they were filthy nonetheless. He threw orgies in Milan and New York when he was in town. He liked to dominate sex workers to make them bend to his will. The fact that he hurt people who were just trying to make a living pissed me the fuck off. Of course, none of them dared speak against him. Not publicly, anyway. His serious girlfriend, who would soon become his side piece, had penthouses that he paid for. He didn’t physically hurt her, as far as I knew. She was seeing Adriano’s cousin behind his back, though she seemed genuinely in love with the guy. The devil works hard, but karma works harder. Right now, both were working against me, and no doubt, making me pay for every fucking wrong I’d committed. I would get down on my knees this instant, if it meant she didn’t have to go through with this.
The heavy wooden doors opened, and the mics the guys were wearing picked up a few gasps. I glanced at my watch and checked the time. Two minutes. We had a two-minute window to get this done. I looked for the others one last time — Petra standing outside on the roof and Michael wandering down the block, waiting for his cue to get any innocent bystanders out; Gil and Lorenzo pacing their marks in the pews; Rosalyn and Emma observing from the altar. . . across from two Salvati men. Dominic was sitting in the first pew. When I looked at the aisle again, my heart stopped beating.
She looked virginal, but I knew better; I had already defiled every hole in her body. I would have laughed if I could find it in me to be amused. Even if I were, the amusement would’ve died when I saw her face. Her dark eyes, bloodshot and pained, seared into me, despite their inability to meet mine. She wouldn’t know where to look even if she wanted to. Her father looked around, though. Of course, he did; his paranoia had been heightened. I turned to her groom again, who was waiting for her with a stoic look, though his eyes gleamed with excitement. I couldn't be sure whether it was the idea of finally having her or whether it was the large chunk of De Luca empire he'd be inheriting.
She made it to the third pew and stopped walking. For a brief moment, she let go of her father and fixed the bottom of her gown, and her heel stuck at the edge. Her father gave her an impatient look and turned to smile at the audience. I could practically feel my mother’s ghost judging me for what I was about to do. I closed my eyes for a split second, habitually asking God for forgiveness in silent prayer. I was one of those people. The ones who avoided church and talking about God but were willing to get on my knees when my life was falling apart. He was always my last resort. I tapped the side of my weapon once, twice – another habit. I took a breath, then another, and held it as I pulled the trigger.
1
LENORA
I’d always known I’d be a young and inexperienced bride. It was what I was bred for, like a prized horse whose only job is to win races. It was why I felt such kinship with my Clydesdale. With animals, in general, but Aanya was special. She had been through everything with me – fights with my parents, tears over fake friends, and boys who wouldn’t give me the time of day because of who my father was. Saying goodbye to her was killing me.
“I’ll never forget you.” I grabbed the sides of her face and pressed my forehead against hers.
I didn’t bother holding back tears. I didn’t bother explaining that I wasn’t sure when I’d see her again. She knew. Aanya always knew. She nudged my face with her muzzle and snapped me out of my sadness. I kissed her one last time, pulled away to dry my tears, and took a breath before walking away.
Walking away had never been difficult for me. I’d attended boarding schools and summer camps all over the world. My entire life consisted of walking away from people, but this was different. I couldn’t just pick up the phone and FaceTime Aanya whenever I missed seeing her face the way I did with my friends. Not that I did that often. I had two friends, both a few years older than me. One was married and pregnant, and the other was making a name for herself in tech. Neither had much time to talk to me these days. To be fair, they thought I was busy as well. After all, I had a wedding to plan — an arranged marriage to a duke, no less. Adriano Salvati was my perfect match, according to my father, who didn’t know a thing about me.