Total pages in book: 148
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 142939 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 715(@200wpm)___ 572(@250wpm)___ 476(@300wpm)
“Regret? That wasn’t the word I was thinking of,” he whispers back as the priest continues babbling on. I swallow down my fear. He’s really going to do this. I don’t know why I thought my plan of being disrespectful would work. I guess I figured if he viewed me as a handful, he would just walk away. Panic starts to rise inside of me that that’s not the case. My throat goes tight.
“Breathe, angel.”
I suck in a deep breath, realizing I haven’t been breathing.
“Can’t have you passing out on me yet.”
“What does that mean?” I glare over at him but snap my head back forward when I realize he’s staring at me already.
Is he planning to knock me out? I grit my teeth at the thought. My heart is pounding so hard now it drowns out the priest's words. As if they matter. This is all a bunch of bullshit. To love and cherish my ass. The honor and respect part is also laughable. My father never had any of those things for me, so I don’t expect he picked a husband that will.
My life is over. Not that I had much of one before. I’m going from one hell to another. Only this one doesn’t have my older sister. Though I’m the one that acts older when it comes to the two of us. Only eleven months separate us.
It was supposed to be her up to marry next, but because Antonio hadn’t cared who he married, he was getting stuck with me. My older sister is now the last one of us who is not married.
She is beautiful, and everyone always comments on that fact which makes her want to run and hide. I won’t be there to protect her any longer or to throw one of my fits to draw unwanted attention away from her. She and I are opposite in almost every way when it comes to how we look, except for our dark hair. She’d struck the jackpot and gotten bright blue eyes and legs that most women would die for. Ones that would have her walking a runway if we had a different life, but we don’t. We’re both damned.
“I do.” Antonio's words jerk me back to the moment. “Say it,” he orders when the priest comes to me next.
I swallow and push the words out. “I do.”
“I now pronounce you husband and wife.” Antonio is already turning me toward him. I close my eyes and seal my lips together. I already gave him those stupid words; he’s not getting anything else. “You may kiss the bride.” I brace myself, but nothing comes. The room is dead silent. I peek open one of my eyes to see him staring down at me. What? I’m not kissable? Not that I want him to kiss me, but still.
“What the hell–” My words are cut off when his mouth covers mine. I expect the kiss to be hard, but his mouth is soft against me. The opposite of every other part of his that is pressed to me. I gasp when I feel the outline of his cock against my stomach. He steals the moment to slide his tongue past my parted lips.
His hold on my hips stays firm, keeping me in place, but his kiss remains slow. His tongue strokes against mine gently, and I start to kiss him back. A small moan leaves me. Oh no. What am I doing? I mean, I am only human, and as much as I don’t want to admit it, my new husband is handsome. He’s still a jerk that’s going to regret the day he decided to marry me, but he’s a very good-looking one. He must feel me tense, because I go to bite him, but he pulls back in the nick of time. Dammit.
“Save that for later, my little hellion.”
I open and close my mouth, his kiss still lingering there. I don’t get a chance to say something smart before he releases my hips to turn us toward the silent audience. They all start to clap when Antonio takes my hand to guide me back down the aisle.
I glance over at my sister, whose eyes are wide with shock. That makes two of us. I misstep, almost tripping over my stupid heels. Antonio releases my hand and wraps his arm around my waist, pulling me into him so I don’t fall on my face.
“I can walk on my own,” I say instead of giving him a thank you.
“Is that so?”
I squeak when he scoops me up into his arms as we exit the church.
“We’re leaving?” Oh God. Of course we’re leaving. Antonio doesn’t answer my question. Of course not. He doesn’t answer to anyone. The big scary Antonio Palermo. My father is even a bit scared of him. Not that he’d ever admit it, but I can sense it. I’ve gotten good at reading him over the years. It’s a part of my survival, really.