Total pages in book: 180
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 170747 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 854(@200wpm)___ 683(@250wpm)___ 569(@300wpm)
I say nothing. I am a slave. I’m not allowed to think or feel, only do as I’m told, and to do otherwise… I’m not falling for that. Silence reigns for few seconds before Maria disappears into the closet, coming back with a pale blue dress. “This?”
Standing, I put on the underwear and summer dress that Maria places on the bed. It feels strange to wear clothes so much. I thought I’d have been grateful for the normality, but I find the material feels uncomfortable clinging to my bare skin. For a moment, she stands there, wringing her hands as if she wants to say something. She doesn’t though. Instead, she opens the door, offering me the crutches. I ignore her, choosing to hobble down the corridor instead.
Men move freely around Rafael’s home, most of them armed and covered in gang tattoos.
I’m shown to a door before she walks away, leaving me to face him. Lifting my hand, I hesitate for a second before I knock, and wait.
“Come in,” a voice calls from the other side of the thick wood.
Opening the door, I keep my head high as I limp inside and stop in front of the enormous wooden desk. My focus drifts around the room, stopping on a little gold globe nestled amongst leather-bound books on the shelf behind the desk; a tiny depiction of a wide world I will likely never see. Nestled beside it is a book I know well, the gold lettering of the author’s name is barely visible on the overly bent and cracked spine.
“All things truly wicked start from innocence,” I breathe.
“What?”
I ignore him. “You wanted to see me.” My gaze seems to drift to him without my permission, seeking him out. It annoys me. What is it about him that has my iron-clad walls buckling as though they’re made of nothing more than paper and glue? Years of suffering have brought me to this invincible point. No one can harm me because no one can reach me, at least not mentally. And isn’t all pain in the mind? But he is reaching me somehow, eliciting emotions long buried: anger, animosity, and hatred.
Perhaps it’s the way he looks at me without the desire I’m used to. It makes me uneasy because desire is predictable. He isn’t. He snaps me out of my bitter indifference and makes me far too aware of him, perhaps even fear him in a world where I’ve learned to fear very little anymore. Maybe it’s those near-black eyes of his or that aura of power he commands so easily, the danger that pours off him like water down a cliff face.
He moves, stopping only a couple of feet away from me before he leans against the front of the desk. His eyes meet mine, full of…suspicion? I stare right back at him, trying to predict what he’ll do to me—what he wants.
“You say you don’t know who Nero Verdi is?” He narrows his eyes as though I’m the bad one in the room.
“I’m a whore. If I’ve fucked him then I wouldn’t know his name.”
He inhales deeply, tapping his index finger over his bottom lip. “He’s the man who bought you.” Bought and sold like cattle at market. Disgust creeps up my throat, and I clench my teeth against the unfamiliar sensation of my anger threatening to actually breach the surface.
“Have you ever been to New York?”
“I’m a whore.” He raises a brow at that. “No.”
“Do you have any Italian relatives?”
“No.”
“You can’t think of any reason why the Italian mafia might want you?”
“No.”
“Then it seems you are a mystery, Anna Vasiliev.”
“Can I go now?”
Pushing off the desk, he stalks toward me, every inch the predator. He reaches out and wraps his tattooed fingers around my throat. Cold, dark eyes meet mine for a beat before he brings his lips near my ear. “Nero has asked me to protect you.” Warm breath blows over my neck, and I shiver involuntarily. “But if I find out at any point you’ve been lying to me, I will consider my contract for your protection null and void. Am I clear?” The rough whisper drags over my senses like sandpaper as his thumb strokes a circle on the side of my neck. His fingers flinch against my skin in warning, but I don’t react. There’s a long breath of silence before he steps back. “You can go anywhere on the property…”
“But not leave it,” I finish for him.
His lips twitch. “No.”
“Because your friend owns me.”
“Because I said so.” Hard, implacable, undoubtedly dangerous, and yet, he’s like no one I’ve ever met. I’m not sure whether he wants to hurt me or fuck me. Both? None? Unpredictable. Not good. “Lucas!” he shouts.
The door clicks open, and a young guy shuffles nervously through the open doorway. “Yes, boss?”