Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
The rest of the house was as expensively decorated as his bedroom, as the outside. The hallways seemed to go on forever. Everything was appointed in rich woods, marble, red, gold. Old world money.
The hall had windows all along one side, showing the immaculate grounds that seemed to sprawl on forever. There were rose gardens, patio areas, black figures weaving in and out of trees. I’d squinted to get a better look at them. Were they ... guards? To keep me in or keep someone out?
I didn’t know which option was better.
The light made everything look elegant, decadent. I hated that. This was not an elegant situation. The luxury was all lies, all a result of blackmail, of dark misdeeds, and I hated that I felt so fucking comfortable with it all.
Felix stopped at a door at the end of the hall, standing aside before nodding once to the handle.
This was as far as he went, it seemed. I looked from the handle to his intense gaze, my stomach prickling with hunger, curiosity.
“Would you kill me?” I asked suddenly. “If Cristian asked, would you kill me?”
“Without hesitation,” he replied.
Goose bumps peppered my arms at his tone. The surety in it.
He stepped forward, and I immediately retreated, the wall caging me in. He stepped close enough so I could feel the heat of his body but not so that we were touching. He smelled of spice, a thick musk that my body responded to carnally.
“I would make your death exquisite,” he murmured, his voice sex and violence at the same time.
My heart skipped, and my nipples pebbled, hating the reaction I was having. My eyes were locked on his, my body screaming at me to run, but something else urged me to cross the distance he’d put between us. I licked my lips. His eyes followed my tongue.
After a few tense heartbeats, he stepped back, wiping his jaw with his hand. He lingered a moment, brows furrowed as he took me in. Then he turned and walked away. He seemed to swallow the last of the sunlight as he passed by the windows.
I had a monster at my front. And another at my back.
That should’ve terrified me.
Except I was thinking of the things those monsters could do. How they could make me scream.
I was walking a line between life and death, and the only thing I could think about was two villains fucking me.
I had many, many problems. I was caged in by monsters, both on the outside and the inside. Ones that couldn’t be escaped. Falling to the floor in tears or despair wasn’t going to change anything. It would only put the scent of blood in the air, and these predators would flock to it. So instead of lingering, I turned the handle and stepped forward.
It was another office. Cristian was sitting behind a desk. Unlike the one at Bella, which was shades of white, grey and black, this one was somehow ... warmer. More red. Rich mahogany. There was a fireplace to my left, carved in ornate white stone, twin lions roaring beside the fire.
Two leather armchairs perched in front of the fire. Floor to ceiling bookshelves to my right. Behind his desk were huge windows, presenting a vivid patio and rose garden. Rich red curtains bordered the windows. My eyes went to the wall beside his desk. A huge oil painting was perched there, an ornate gold frame bordering it.
The painting was of a girl. Perched on the precipice of womanhood. She was beautiful. Dark brown curls, tumbling down past her shoulders, framing a heart shaped face. Her eyes were large, inquisitive, warm. A button nose. Full, strawberry-colored lips. I narrowed my eyes as I took her in. She was out of place here, soft and innocent inside a den of depravity. I wondered who she was and how she fit in to all of this.
“Sienna.”
Cristian’s voice was sharp, cold, and it snapped my attention from the painting to him. In the time I’d known him—admittedly not long—I’d never heard a tone like that. Not when he was fucking me, not when he was ordering me to be his wife. There was violence in my name, all sharp edges, dripping with malice.
His eyes were espresso with flicks of gold. Not an ounce of compassion or mercy in them.
The hairs on the back of my arms stood up.
“Sit down,” he ordered.
I’d planned on coming in here, making it clear what a piece of shit I thought Cristian was, spouting venom in his direction, showing him my backbone. I’d planned on rebelling in every way I could. Certainly not heeding any of his orders. But that tone melted all of my plans away, and I quickly walked to sit in one of the chairs facing his desk.
There was no sound in the room except my thundering heart.