Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96742 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
“A golden cage is still a cage.”
“Oh, little bird, you’ll chirp for me, and you’ll love it.”
“Don’t be a bastard.”
“You have two choices: either attempt to run away or accept my protection. I will admit that instead of easing tensions, I inadvertently made them worse—but your ex-husband is a fucking asshole and he deserved to get punched in the face.”
“That doesn’t help,” she says through her teeth. “Although, yeah, I really enjoyed that part.”
“Conti is the kind of man that understands only one thing, and that’s power. If he thinks you’re available to be taken away then he will never stop trying. But if he understands you are mine, entirely mine, and far from his grasp, he’ll give up and move on. Or I’ll kill him. Either way.”
She rubs her face with both hands and shifts her stance, shoulders tilting back, drawing herself to her full height, all five-foot-nothing of her. “I don’t care if there’s a gun to my skull. I let myself be owned for five years and I risked everything to get away from that. Do you really think I’m going to rush right back into the same situation?”
I step toward her quickly and she tries to jerk back, but I catch her wrist and hold it. I stare into her eyes, making sure she hears me as I lean closer. “I am not your ex-husband. When you are my wife, I will treat you with the dignity you deserve.”
“Then why are you grabbing onto me right now?”
I release her and she steps back, rubbing her wrist. I take beat to calm myself. Conti got me all worked up with that macho bullshit back at his place and now I’m losing control. I expected him to be reasonable, or at least to be amenable to discussing our situation, but the moment I saw his snide face, and heard him insult Camille right in front of me, I couldn’t help myself.
I have to break that little fuck’s jaw.
I only wish I’d done more.
Even with the witnesses, my life might be easier if I’d just put a bullet in his head.
That confrontation left my blood boiling, but I can’t take that out on her.
I let out a long breath and force myself to speak calmly. “There is no other option for you right now. What I’m offering will cause me considerable problems and pain, but I am willing to deal with all that if it means fulfilling my promise to you.”
“Why would you even want to marry me?” she grinds out. “You’re a total stranger.”
“You think I want to marry you? You think I want any of this? I love your taste, asteraki mu, but don’t misunderstand what is happening here. I am offering you a way to survive the coming nightmare only because it’s my fault you’re in it at all, and I believe in owning my mistakes. But I don’t want to be your husband any more than you want to be my wife.”
I turn away from her before I lose my temper again. I can’t stand out here arguing with her any longer—the more time we spend in front of the house, the more likely it is that someone on the staff will notice us and alert Sophia or Anissa to what’s going on, and that’s the last thing I need.
One fucking headache at a time.
“You’re really selling me on this, you know,” she says as I walk up the stairs.
I pause at the door and look back at her. “You can either follow me now and survive all this, or you can walk back down that driveway and take your chances alone. How far did you get the last time you did that?”
She glares death at me and I wait for her to react. Some part of me expects her to tell me off and storm away, and it wouldn’t surprise me one bit.
But apparently, she’s not suicidal.
She follows me up the steps and into the house.
Chapter 17
Camille
I’m almost too angry to notice the lavish interior.
But not quite.
The entryway has an enormous crystal chandelier dangling over a twin staircase with massive marble statues of Greek gods and goddesses frolicking around a central fountain. Actual fish swim inside the water, which seems almost absurd. The floor’s marble, with more marble columns, and a ton of intricate tilework along the ground and walls. Doorways and hallways lead off into different parts of the house, but Evander heads right for the stairs and takes me to the second floor.
We walk past a couple maids dusting and straightening. Each one smiles and greets Evander by bowing their heads respectfully, and he grunts a hello in reply. None of them flinch away or avert their eyes, and they both stare at me curiously. I take that as a good sign—at least his staff isn’t terrified of him, even if they act a little overly formal.