Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
So, they took her, and then they hurt her so damn badly. No one had wanted her when she returned. Rossi turned his back on her, their marriage was canceled, and he married a different woman instead, a slender blonde with no damage.
In fact, Valentina saw them now, looking like the perfect couple, which made no sense, seeing as she had raven hair. Ignoring them, she turned back toward her husband and tensed up as Giovanni was already on his way toward her.
She hadn’t drunk a single drop of her champagne.
He stopped in front of her and offered a simple nod of the head. In the few occasions she’d seen him, she couldn’t honestly recall him ever even giving her a single hint of a smile. She had to wonder if he even possessed the ability to do so.
This man, her husband, was a total mystery to her.
She tilted her head back and offered him a smile.
“I think it is time for us to dance.”
Valentina had hoped to refuse this request. She hated being the center of attention and currently, at her own wedding, it was starting to become a little irksome.
“Yes, of course,” she said, the lie spilling from her lips with total ease.
Her heart raced as she put the champagne glass down on the nearest table. She’d never been a drinker. One time when she was sixteen, she had witnessed what happened to one of their women, and their tongues became too loose. The multiple backhands and slaps she’d gotten, within company, had been enough to terrify her.
Valentina recalled her mother had told her to take note and to never allow herself to lose focus at such an event.
All the women had judged the woman. None had looked to the man as the one in the wrong. That was the difference in her world. Men could treat their women however they chose, just so long as they didn’t break them too much.
She had lost count of the number of times she’d seen black eyes, bandaged limbs, casts even. All in the name of marriage.
No love. Nothing but pain. Still, the women put up with it because that was their life, and none of them could do anything about it.
She hated it.
Despised it.
Nibbling on her lip, she tried not to think about who she was with as Giovanni slowly walked her onto the dance floor. His arm wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her close. Not too close so that it was indecent, but close enough to feel his warmth. Their bodies barely touched.
“You look very … handsome,” she said.
Her mother had told her to constantly congratulate him on how he looked. He was handsome in a scary kind of way. That was wrong. She always felt that he had this edge about him that no one else had, not even Leonardo Rossi, her ex-fiancé.
“And you look stunning, just as I knew you would. The perfect bride.”
She wanted to ask him why he’d picked her. This man had been given the rare choice of picking any woman for himself, and yet, he picked her. Why? She still didn’t get it.
The scars on her back were very real, as well as the few across her stomach and thighs. For a long time, she had lived in fear. There were some nights where she still experienced the nightmares. They never went away.
She’d wanted to go talk to someone, a therapist, anyone who would be willing to listen, but her father had declined. There was no way she was talking about family business with anyone.
This wasn’t about family business. To her, it was to deal with the fact she was kidnapped and tortured by strange men who had wanted to know every single little detail of her life. It had just been too much for her to handle. She had wanted it to all stop.
Rather than talk to someone, she had guards placed outside her doors. Extra protection. The nightmares continued for several months, until finally, it seemed that they abated. Valentina only hoped they didn’t start back tonight, her wedding night.
Her mother had told her she was to give herself to Giovanni willingly. She wasn’t to fight. As a wife, it was her duty to serve her husband, and that she shouldn’t worry as he’d find other women. Whores and mistresses to deal with his basic urges, and then she’d be left alone, only having to deal with him when he wanted children or to have more.
The life her mother painted for her filled her with fear. What fun was there to be had in that kind of life? None. There was nothing good about it.
The very thought of it filled her with regret.
Staring up into her husband’s face, Valentina didn’t want a loveless marriage, or to resent him or fear him. She’d lived in fear for too long, but this man, known as The Butcher, how could it be possible to have a good marriage full of love? She didn’t love him, nor did she know him.