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)
“Thanks, Phel, you’re such a sweetheart,” I say miserably. “I’m glad I’m amusing.”
She cackles with delight. “You’d better go before they catch you talking to me. I want to hear details tomorrow. Seriously, details. Not about you and Evander, god, no, I saw enough of that already, but about the house.”
“I know what you meant. Thanks for talking to me.”
“Good luck!”
And she hangs up. I stare at the phone, trying to come to grips with my situation. Stuck in a mansion with a violent mobster. About to get married to him for my own safety.
Trapped in another relationship.
At least this time, I can walk away whenever I choose. According to Evander anyway.
“Who was that?”
I jump and nearly fall over the banister. Evander’s at my side, faster than I would’ve guessed, his hands on my hips making sure I don’t tumble down to my death.
“Fucking dog-shit-eating hell, Evander,” I hiss and shove him back. “You scared me half to death.”
He shakes his head, grinning. “Where do you come up with this stuff?”
I glare at him. “I wasn’t talking to anyone, okay?”
His smile fades. “That’s the wrong answer.” He holds out a hand. “Phone.”
“Excuse me?”
“Phone.” He says it impatiently. “You’re the ex-wife of an Italian gangster. I need to be absolutely sure I’m not making a mistake.”
My jaw drops.
This man can’t be serious right now.
Rage flares, hot and bright.
“Are you accusing me of being a spy?”
“I’m saying I have to be careful.” His head tilts. “Show me the phone. Prove you’re not being shady and only your normal stubborn self. I am not the type of man that shares willingly.”
I want to scream at him. I want to claw out his eyes. He saw the way things were with Christopher. He heard the way my ex-husband spoke to me. He met me at the lowest point of my life, totally out of the blue, by pure happenstance—and the bastard wants to see my phone?
“You want it?” I ask, showing my teeth. “Okay. Here you go.”
I turn and throw the phone as hard as I can off the balcony. It spins and spins in the air—
And drops into the pool.
Evander stands, staring down at the water. I follow his gaze, and slowly, I realize my mistake.
“Well,” he says. “That takes care of that.” He walks away.
“Wait,” I say, feeling desperate. “Hold on. I need to fish that out. My phone—”
“I’ll get you a replacement, asteraki mu. In fact, I’ll have all your things brought over from your apartment.” His smirk is infuriating, but I can only stand there and look down at my very stupid decision, at my last lifeline to the real world, sitting at the bottom of the deep end.
Chapter 20
Camille
“You get one night to acclimate,” Evander says before we go to bed. “One night, asteraki mu, and then we are sleeping in my bed together, like husband and wife.”
“Enjoy the couch.” I slam the door in his face and crawl under the covers, curling up like a tiny ball, lost in the middle of the mattress.
I don’t sleep very much. At first, I toss and turn, thinking about Evander outside the door sleeping in the sitting area. That asshole accused me of being a spy—me, of all people, a woman that hates the Pavone Famiglia more than anyone else in the world. What’s he thinking? He can’t really believe I’ve been lying to him this whole time.
And yet can I blame him for being paranoid? We’re strangers and he’s doing a lot to help me, and he’s trying to come to grips with our situation as much as I am. Still, it doesn’t matter, I’d never in my life spy for my ex-husband, let alone for his stupid mafia family, and it drives me insane that the idea would even occur to Evander.
Does he really think I’m the type of woman to have sex with him just so I can sneak into his life?
I keep thinking about him out there in the living room. Is he angry that he’s sacrificing his comfort for mine? Does he want to kick down that door and charge inside, pin me down, kiss my lips and take me?
Could I punch him in the throat?
I keep picturing what it would be like to have that massive bear of a man sleeping beside me, but it’s impossible.
He’s like a giant. A grumbling, grumpy giant. His suits are expensive and his house screams wealth, but deep in his heart, I think Evander’s too angry to appreciate anything. Any smile, any laughter, any hint at something light and gentle past that rough exterior gets extinguished immediately, as if it’s not there at all, and I don’t know if I’m projecting what I want to see in him or if I’m really catching glimpses of the man hidden behind the image of the mafia don.