Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
My mouth was dry. My tongue stuck when I stumbled over my words. “I-I- uh-” I shook my head. “No.”
He gave me a firm nod. “Okay,” then he added inflexibly, “I’m going to need you to step away.”
I swallowed hard, walking backwards until he was satisfied. His stern face remained unchanged when he reached into the house, took the door knob into his large hand and slowly pulled it closed, creating a barrier between us, locking me in but keeping him out.
My jaw felt stiff and heavy as my feet began to move of their own accord and then, I was at the back door. I saw the shadow of another tall figure standing right outside of it and changed directions, heading to the door that led to the garage. It was the only other way out. And when I slowly opened the door, I was a little less shocked but equally scared to find another goon situated right outside of it.
Like the others, he was dressed for war and when he spun to face me, he looked similarly unimpressed when he said, “I don’t want no trouble.” He made a show of putting his hand to the holstered gun at his belt. “Back away from the door.”
What in God’s name…?
I felt ill as I quietly stepped back a safe distance.
The goon closed the door and, slowly, the pieces of this confusing puzzle began to fit together. When the final fragment clicked into place, I walked listlessly over to the sofa, dazed and disoriented, and sat numbly, letting my bag fall off my shoulder, dropping to the ground with a dull thud. I blinked and turned my head to gaze at the manned front door, and my brow furrowed.
I couldn’t believe this. Or maybe I could. Either way, a single heated word slipped from my mouth. “Motherfucker.”
Ettore hadn’t abandoned me.
My head throbbed and my chest tightened with the realization.
He’d made me his fucking prisoner.
Ettore
I watched through the monitors as she moped, aimlessly walking the halls of the house. She hadn’t showered or changed her clothes in three days. Her hair remained unbrushed and she didn’t sleep more than a few hours each night. She was restless, but more than that, I could see she was sad. My wife looked miserable.
It made my jaw flex as I observed from afar.
Why I cared was anybody’s guess.
The wound below my shoulder was still tender. There was a constant dull ache attached to it, a reminder that what had been done couldn’t be undone. I’d taken the necessary action.
It would have been foolish to say I missed her. So, I didn’t dare speak the words.
Not out loud.
My sister hadn’t spoken more than a couple of words to me since the day I took Vittoria away. Giada’s disappointment stung. I, of course, would never let it show because I loved my sister dearly. Daniele, however… there wasn’t a day since Vittoria was relocated that he wasn’t acting the haughty prick. I wanted to pop my brother right in the fucking mouth. I would have relished in it too, but to wear my emotions on my sleeve would only leave me open to harsh criticism and that was not a risk I could afford to take.
My position as capo called for a cool manner and sound mind.
Regrettably, I found myself less than rational whenever it came to my young wife.
I could still smell her sweet scent. The taste of her lingered on my tongue. I felt her, snugly wrapped around my body. It was torture to watch her from behind a screen. She would never understand that this prison sentence was a punishment with which I too suffered.
Right then, I watched her stand by the mantle in the living area. She carefully picked up a frame that held a photograph of me and my kids. The way she ran gentle fingertips over my face had my gut tightening in a violently protective way. And yet, I felt my chest puff out.
It was gratifying that she felt so attached to me after so little time. Wildly naïve, but pleasing nonetheless. But nothing pleased me greater than turning her sister away from my front door step.
Vincenza, the insolent bitch, arrived at my home mere days after the wedding. “I want to see my sister,” she demanded as if she were entitled.
I peered down my nose at her and remained unruffled as I announced indifferently, “I’m sorry. Vittoria is not currently in residence.”
She blinked, confused, and then her expression darkened and her hands fisted by her sides. “What have you done with her?”
I smirked inwardly as her anger ignited. “What I do with my wife is none of your concern, Vincenza. She is mine in body and name. Whether she is merely recovering from a long day of taking my cock,” her eyes flashed and I basked in it, “or I threw her body off of a fucking cliff,” for a second, her expression fell, “it is none of your goddamn business. Not anymore.”