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)
“Emelia?” he barks, and I jump again.
His reasoning finally sinks in, and I can understand it. I just wish he would’ve explained it to me first instead of sending some stranger in to confront me with it.
“Yes, Nico. I’ll get the tracker.” I drop my head like a child who has just been disciplined. But I make a promise that my revenge will be so much sweeter, and everyone here witnessing my embarrassment will witness his.
“Goddammit,” he rushes out. “I have a serious matter at the club to attend to. No more interruptions unless it’s an emergency.” With that, he ends the call.
I place the phone down, closing the few steps between the doctor and me, and I hold out my arm.
“Do it,” I growl, and I await the burn, the pain, the betrayal, and the revenge.
Later that night, I’m sitting in the bedroom, dressed in an all-black silk gown. It hugs my curves, the softness of my stomach, and the roundness of my hips. The bodice is a short corset, holding my chest up high, and it’s see-through with the exception of the black cups. My blonde hair is wavy, in a vintage style collected on one side, cascading down my shoulder. My makeup is a classic smokey eye but more blown out, with my lips painted fire-engine red, a matte color that compliments my skin tone. My black Louboutin’s are covered in crystals and have a strap that reminds me of a snake, wrapping around my ankles and going a few inches up my calves.
“You ready?” Nico walks in, and I peer up, doing my best to not let him see just how mad I still am from what happened earlier. If he sees even an ounce of it, he just might spot a hint of my planned revenge.
“Yes.”
He wears a three-piece suit, looking stoic, and once again, I’m reminded of how annoyingly handsome he is. There is no denying Nico is attractive. Not even a little bit.
“You look lovely, Emelia. Now, stand. I have something I would like you to wear.”
I do as he says, hesitant as to what he has planned, but stand nonetheless.
“These pearls were my mother’s. I expect you to wear them at any event or ball we attend.”
He’s giving me his mother’s pearls? That seems like too intimate of a thing to just give me.
“Token of ownership, I suppose,” I mumble under my breath, and he catches my jaw between his hands and forces me to look up at him. His eyes pierce mine with ferocity.
“You have to get your shit in order, Emelia. We talked about our white flag, and today you’ve seemed to do nothing but stomp on it. We are a united front, and my tracker may have pissed you off, but it’s truly for your protection. You should be thanking me for thinking of your safety.”
I scoff, crossing my arms and taking a step back.
“Again, I’m not a damsel, Nico. I saved myself by marrying you and getting out of the monster’s lair. And what, you want praise for doing psychotic things and offering the bare minimum outside of that? Your mother’s pearls are supposed to make me swoon or something?”
Placing his hands in his pockets, he cocks his head to the side and looks me over.A strange expression passes over his face, and I can’t quite pin what it means, but it flashes so quickly it's like it didn't even happen.
“That’s exactly what I expect. Think you can manage a simple task, wife?”
“Call me Emelia. Wife implies love or, hell, even just an ounce of respect, dignity, and self-identity, which you have stripped away.” I push past him, and he grabs my elbow. His touch is hot, and it sends an electric bolt through me.
“You will be on your best behavior tonight, Emelia. You will.”
Oh, I will—over-the-top will. Will painstakingly be a thorn in his ass.
“Yes, Nico. I will be,” I emphasize and then yank back my arm, storming off before he can say another word.
We ride the elevator down in silence, and I feel the thick tension in the air. But he must feel it too, because he is fuming, his aggravation felt from here, as if he were shaking and boiling to a tipping point. Stepping out onto the street, we are about to slip into the car, when shots ring out. The sound is so piercing I can’t help but scream and cover my ears.
“Giulio! Cover! Farren, get Emelia inside! Now!” I try to look back at the scene, but I’m practically overtaken by my bodyguard and rushed into the building. We make it to the elevator, and I hear Nico ask, “Is she shot? Is my wife shot!” That’s when I spot the trail of blood that followed behind us.
“No, sir, it’s me. It’s just a flesh wound on my arm,” Farren confirms, and I look at Nico, seeing a flash in his eyes that I can’t place, but he looks somewhat…relieved.