Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
If she knows why Angelo’s sister and mother are dead, she’ll want to throw me over the balcony herself.
“I’m sure you’d like to get some rest.” She walks to the door. “I sleep in the apartment next to the kitchen. If you want anything, you can use the phone on the nightstand to dial me. My extension is marked as housekeeper on the phone. If I don’t answer, try the kitchen.”
I follow her to the door. “Thanks again for the delicious dinner.”
“You’re welcome, dear,” she says before slipping into the hallway.
I close the door and stand there for a moment, not sure what to do. When the door opens again, I assume it’s Heidi who forgot to tell me something, but a gasp escapes my lips when Angelo enters.
He opens his mouth and freezes when his gaze falls on the dress. A spectrum of emotions washes over his features before settling on something disturbingly dark. The anger that tightens his eyes and hardens the line of his jaw scares me, because this anger is fueled by grief, and I’m the person responsible for that grief. My family. We’re to blame.
Not taking his eyes off me, he puts his head around the doorframe and calls in a thunderous voice, “Heidi.”
Hurried footsteps fall in the corridor.
The housekeeper appears on the threshold. “Yes, Mr. Russo?”
He points at the dress, all the while staring daggers at me. “What’s the fucking meaning of this?”
Her cheeks pale. “I just thought—”
“Do not think,” he grits out. “That’s not what I pay you for. Take it away.”
“Yes, sir,” she says, scurrying across the floor and plucking the hanger with the dress from the armoire.
Angelo and I face each other like war opponents as she runs from the room and softly closes the door.
“She wanted to give you the wedding of the year,” he says, hatred pouring into the words. “A beautiful wedding.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, backtracking to the bed, because there’s nothing I can do but apologize. I can’t change what happened. I can only run from my husband as he chooses the monster inside him instead of the man.
He comes after me. Furious. Hard.
“Angelo,” I whisper, not knowing how to stop this. Him.
“That’s right. You better get used to my name on your lips. You belong to me, and nothing will be given to you without my permission, so you can practice saying my name when you go down on your knees and beg me.”
“Beg you for what?” I ask, my throat closing up.
The smile he gives me as he stalks closer is the cruel one. The statement he delivers is a vicious blow. “For everything.”
Understanding blooms. He doesn’t only want to make me kneel. He wants to make me crawl. This is how he wants me to pay. He wants to punish me for the dress I never wore, for the wedding that never happened, and for everything else that was outside of my control.
I stand my ground even as he unbuckles his belt and pulls it from his waistband.
“You’ll beg me for the food you eat and the air you breathe.” He unbuttons his shirt, revealing the black ink that decorates his chest. “For the bed you sleep in.” Finishing the task of undressing, he drops his clothes on the floor. “For my cock.” He closes the distance between us and stops flush against me. Stark naked. “Beg for it, bella, and maybe I’ll let you come.”
The dress and what transpired with his uncles triggered something inside him. I’m not insensitive to his pain. I know how much unexpected reminders can hurt. However, I already begged for my family. I begged him to marry me, but I won’t beg him for a single thing more. Especially not to fuck me.
His smile grows sinister. “Fine. Have it your way, wife.”
“It’s been a long day.”
“Exactly. So, let’s not drag this out.”
I square my shoulders. “I need a shower and sleep.”
“You will have both when you beg me.”
Clenching my hands into balls at my sides, I can only stare at him with hatred seeping from my heart.
“Beg, Sabella, on your knees, and you can have a shower and your bed. After you fuck me.”
“No, thanks,” I say, my nostrils flaring. “I’d rather stay dirty and sleep on the floor.”
Calculation tightens his features. “If that’s what you want, that’s what you’ll get.”
I’m trembling with anger. I should’ve taken a knife in the kitchen, preferably a blunt one. I could’ve stabbed it into his cold, sadistic heart.
“Strip,” he says. “Or do you prefer that I undress you? I can promise you it won’t be romantic.”
I spit the words at him. “Go to hell.”
“We’re consummating our marriage in my family home tonight. Cooperate, and it’ll be over sooner.”
“You’re such a jerk.”
“Strip, Sabella. You’re not shy, are you? I’ve already seen every part of you.”