Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53880 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Chapter Three
Lyriope
I look out the window onto the grounds of the Morelli mansion, feeling defeated. The luscious green of the lawn lined with colorful flowers looks beautiful on the surface, but I’m starting to realize very quickly that it hides the darkness inside. The large mansion with vegetation all around has become my new home. When I was a little girl, I often wondered what it would be like to live in his house. I fantasized about having a four-post bed with a canopy and pink satin sheets. I imagined myself sitting at a vanity with all the expensive makeup I could ever want. And though my bedroom has a four-post bed, the girlish dreams are not present. Everything in this room from the dark rich woods, the floral bedding, the magnificent Persian rug, and the crystal chandelier scream wealth, but still lacks what I had envisioned. Everything feels sterile. Impersonal. But then again, this is merely a guest room.
Not my room.
A long stone pathway leading up to an impressive back door is flanked by security that appear ready for an attack. I can’t help but wonder if guards replacing decoration has always been this way, or if this is for my sake. Tall walls surround us, with armed men stationed in the shadows, but I don’t feel safe.
I have willingly placed myself in this palace, this fortress, this prison—all for reasons that don’t seem to be coming to fruition. But I did think I’d feel safe… at least safer than when I was on the run and in hiding from those who wanted me as a pawn in their game against the Morelli family.
Safer than when I was kidnapped by the Sidorovs at the very least, and yet—
I close my eyes briefly and try to tell my panicked consciousness that I had chosen this. This is of my own making.
Yes, the Sidorovs had put me on auction. Yes, I didn’t really have a choice in that regard… not really. But I didn’t leave Italy kicking and screaming. I didn’t resist in the slightest. To be honest, I wanted to go with Bryant and his son. A part of me was thrilled that my father fought so hard to get me. I felt needed, wanted, and… acknowledged as a Morelli in Italy.
Finally.
But the dream is starting to feel… distorted.
He did almost hit me. Almost.
I rub my palm along my chest, placing it over my beating heart as if I can wipe away the memory or somehow convince myself it didn’t happen.
I’ve never had a man hit me and get away with it. My mother had many men who tried, but if they ever laid a hand on me, Dylan would attack with a vengeance, and my mother would always step in. As selfish as that woman could be, she wouldn’t tolerate another man hitting her children. It was a deal breaker, and many deals would be broken as she kicked out one asshole after another for daring to abuse me or Dylan.
I owe her for that. I appreciate the boundary she formed.
And yet… am I possibly destroying that boundary by allowing my own father to come as close as he did to hitting me? Does he hit any of his other children? Is that the man Bryant Morelli is, or is it simply because it was me standing there speaking out of turn?
My ribs grow tight, restricting my breath. Did I just give up one nightmare only to get into a worse one?
Sighing deeply, I struggle to hold my head high. I have to keep telling myself over and over that this was my choice. Nick was there in Italy willing to do whatever it took to have me go where I wanted to. And I had chosen this. To enter the Morelli mansion with my father by my side. The pity party needs to end. Nick told me over and over again that I’m a motherfucking queen. I need to start acting the part.
I’m not stupid, however. Going in, I’d known it would be hard. But I did expect at least a little something from the man who had traveled across the world to fight for me to be with him and not anyone else. A few questions. A few answers. Something.
The door of my room flies open with Sasha storming in with the largest smile and a ray of sunshine beaming around her. “You’re back!”
Trailing Sasha is the butler dragging in two racks of clothes of various colors and fabrics.
Sasha runs forward with open arms and gives me a big hug. “And you’re here! I finally get to have you here. Family. Out in the open. My cousin. We don’t have to sneak around any longer.”
I can’t help but allow her happiness and joy to wash over me, squashing all the dark thoughts forming only seconds before. I haven’t seen Sasha since she helped me escape Nick and run off to Italy impersonating her. Seeing her makes me realize just how much I missed this person standing before me. She’s the one Morelli that has truly made me feel like I’m not a piece of trash from day one. She’s been my rock—my gem.