Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Of course, my bride. It's our honeymoon.”
Another chill tingles up my spine. What the fuck is he doing, and how do I get it to stop? I’d rather take his anger than these false niceties that intensify and solidify his power and control over himself and me.
The boat docks, and he stands, taking my hand and gripping it painfully. I wince, and he looks back at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks.
I look at the bodyguards and lower my voice. “You’re hurting me.”
His eyes search mine, and I hold my breath, terrified of his response. But he just loosens his grip, kissing my knuckles before interlocking our fingers.
This gesture throws me off, and when I finally feel somewhat steady again, I look up and give him a soft smile. “Thank you.”
He grunts, and that’s that. We head toward the Grecian streets, and he never lets go of my hand.
He’s placed his guards strategically, two in front of us and two behind. The tension is still there, and I just want to breathe and focus on something else, so I window shop, seeing all the beautiful things this town has to offer.
We pass a jewelry shop, and as we continue forward, I do a double-take at the piece of artwork they have in the window made up of a string of gorgeous diamonds.
“Would you like to stop and look in there, Emelia?” Nico asks, his first words since the boat.
“Oh, no. I just saw this pretty choker. They’re stunning, but I’ve never owned one. Never thought chokers would look good on me.”
“And why is that?” We keep walking.
I shrug. “I don’t have the neckline for it. That’s what my mother says anyway.”
“When has your mother ever told you anything that held the truth? You couldn’t just buy one on your own? Wear it for yourself when she wasn’t around?” We cross the street, him looking both ways and guiding us.
“Never, now that you mention it. And I was never allowed to buy things they didn’t approve of. Besides, I wanted my grandmother’s. They were special,” I confess, seeing my sweet grandmother's face in my head.
“Did she leave them for your mother?” he asks.
I shake my head.“No, for me. But Mother kept them for herself, and that’s when she told me chokers are not meant for women with larger frames, like me.”
His hand tightens briefly, then loosens, and I sneak a look up at him. His eyes are covered in Ray Bans, so I can’t tell what emotion they hold, but his jaw is stiff.
“They body-shamed you? Real winners. You didn’t believe them, did you, Emelia?” He stops us then, in the middle of the sidewalk, and people just move around us. You would think they’d seem annoyed by him stopping—us two and his four large bodyguards—but now that I’m conscious of it, every person has moved briskly and avoided Nico and me.
Lucky bastards. I wish I could fly under the radar, or run and hide. Anything to get away from this terrifying man. I almost want to whisper “help me” to each passerby, but I don’t want to be responsible for the death of an entire village.
“What? About my body?” I clarify.
He nods, and the sun hits his face just right so that I can see his eyes through his sunglasses. There is a softness to them, but I don’t let that fool me. There is nothing soft or caring about this man. He’s most likely playing the same game I was married off to do, attempting to beat me at it. Nico is smart enough to test if I know what my father had us married for, seeing if I’ll crack.
“No. I have never been ashamed of my body, Nico. I’m a fat woman, and that isn’t something I will ever be shy about.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“Did I say I wasn’t?” Why is that always something people follow up with when you bring up your weight? “But you’re still beautiful.” I never doubted that. But we aren’t talking about beauty. We’re talking about weight.
“No.”
“Society has steered so many people wrong. Anyway, no, I don’t believe what she says, Nico.” I don’t care to get into the politics of how society has ruined the minds of people and their perception of women like me. He can look it up if he wants to know. I’m not his guide to what or what not to say to a fat woman. I claim that word, and I’m proud of it. I stopped listening to my parents and the world a long, long time ago.
“Good. Tell me about your grandmother.” What in the actual fuck is happening? Are we supposed to act like this morning didn’t happen and that he didn’t threaten to kill me? Or how he chillingly told me he would hunt me down if I ever left? Not to mention the stunt he pulled last night, locking me in the cabin. This man is the definition of a sociopath. Nico isn’t even from this planet. He is from hell itself. The gates opened wide and spit him out, and he took on the world with bitterness that even the underworld rejected him.