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)
Is he going to hurt me?
What is he going to do with that blade?
“I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. Please don’t hurt me.” I hate that he’s instilling fear in me. A stranger. The scariest stranger. The man I hate but am married to now. The fact of the matter is, I’m at his mercy.
“I may have no respect for most men and will kill for even a wrong look, but I will not hurt you. Real men don’t stoop low enough to hurt women.”
Lifting his left arm, he takes the blade and begins to drag it along the taut bicep.
“What the hell are you doing!” I try to stand, but he growls at me.
“I told you to stay away from him. I don’t have to love you, Emelia, to own you. You belong to me now. You think this is crazy? You don’t want to see what will happen if you talk to him again.” Moving the knife away, he wipes off the blood, and that’s when I see he carved an E into his arm. I’m stunned silent, shocked, and truly disturbed. He moves to the bed, throws back the comforter, and wipes the blood on the sheet.
That’s when it hits me.
That’s how he’s going to present the sheets.
Relief floods me, even though I just watched a sociopath carve my initial into his skin.
Why?
How can someone look at ownership so animalistically?
I have nothing to offer. I’m not someone he knows. Definitely not someone he loves. Why are mafia men so beyond the definition of psychotic?
I gulp when he pulls out some sort of kit from his dress pants. Opening it, he pulls out a band-aid and covers up the wound.
“There. Now we can present the sheets, have our first dance, and leave. I will be having your ex-lover removed from our wedding,” he emphasizes, and I implore more.
“He doesn’t deserve to be killed. You have me as your wife. There is no out for me, and I know what my fate would be if I were ever to cheat. I was raised by a made man. I know the rules. No other men.” He buttons up his shirt, tucks it in, and puts his holster back on. Sliding on his perfectly fitted tux jacket, he rights the lapels and buttons it. I jolt a bit when he reaches around me and grabs my hair in its bun, pulling tightly. It stings, and I cry out in pain.
“Nico, that hurts. What the hell?” I push him hard, but he doesn’t move.
“Stop!” he hollers, and I go rigid. He starts to mess with my hair, then lets my curls fall free, and I’m completely taken aback when he takes his thumb and drags it against my red lips. This makes my lipstick smear, I'm sure, and that's when it hits me. He’s making me look like he just fucked me. This animal. My miniscule sense of dignity is stripped from me.
“Good. Now remember, just like you said, you're my wife now.” Taking out his phone, I assume he calls Giulio, and I stay stunned into silence over the scene that just played out.
The knife.
My initial.
The blood.
The mussing me up.
He’s thought of everything.
“The sheets are ready. Bring in the men.” He helps me stand, the shock still penetrating me.
What is happening?
Just what den did I get locked in?
I married the villain, or the real-life beast of every fairy tale.
“You need to cling to me, look pleased. They need to believe we fucked.”
His crass words sting me. I jolt when the door opens, and I cling to him like he ordered, placing my hand on his hard abs. He places his hand on the back of my neck, kneading the knots that have started forming from stress and exhaustion. This helps me lean into him more, at least. Damn the sensations, and damn them for feeling nice. He brings his lips to my forehead, and I watch my father step in, as well as some of his men and Giulio. They look at the sheet, then to us.
My face grows red, as if I really did have sex. How humiliating this tradition is. It’s dehumanizing and vile.
Nico kisses my temple, moving his hands all over my neck for the sole purpose of adding to the act. But I won’t lie—it feels so. Damn. Good.
“Well done. We will meet you down there for the final dance and send-off.” My father nods curtly before he leaves, with all the men in tow.
Giulio and Nico share a knowing look, and then he’s gone. The second they are out of sight, Nico is off me.
“You do what you need to do to come out there and look like a happy, pleased wife, so we can have our dance and leave. I have business tomorrow, and Seattle is a long flight away. Try not to be too damn long.” He slides out the door so effortlessly you would think he vanished into thin air.