Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95833 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 479(@200wpm)___ 383(@250wpm)___ 319(@300wpm)
Because he’s not going to.
Nico looks over as I approach. He’s drinking whiskey and looks exhausted—big bags hang beneath his honey eyes. His shirt’s tucked in, his sleeves are rolled to the elbows, and his jacket’s lying over the back of the chair next to him despite the evening chill.
I stare at his forearms, at the corded muscle and strength there, at the tattoos that swirl around his skin, and wonder what it would feel like to have his arms wrapped around me.
“What are you doing still up?” he asks.
I look down at the water. It laps gently against the side. “Can’t sleep.”
“That’ll pass. It’s been a hard day.”
“Did you find him?”
He grimaces and I know the answer. “He decided running was his only chance. We’ve got guys looking all over.”
“You did what you could.”
He takes a long drink. “I’m not finished yet.”
“Gavino said if anyone can do it, you can.”
“Your brothers have faith in me.” He doesn’t sound pleased. If anything, he says it like it’s a curse.
“Why don’t you ever seem happy?”
He looks at me sharply like he’s surprised, but I don’t know why he would be. He’s always miserable when he’s here, even if he tries to hide it.
“I’m fine. Worry about yourself.”
“I’m just curious. Are we going to go back to hating each other now?”
His jaw works. “Just because I think you’re a selfish, spoiled princess doesn’t mean I think you deserve a man like Rinaldo.”
“What do I deserve then?” I tilt my head, watching him. My arms are wrapped around my middle, and he stares back with that predatory, hawk-like gaze.
“I don’t know,” he says finally and takes another long drink.
I shrug and look away. I can’t seem to stare at him for too long, or else my core begins to tremble with a strange, aching need. For what, I haven’t decided.
“Want to hear something funny?” I ask.
“I’m not in a laughing mood.”
“Gavino thinks you’re my only hope. Funny, right? Sort of like tragic irony, don’t you think?”
“I can’t do anything else for you, princess. I’ve done all I can.”
“You’re right. I don’t really have a right to ask you for more.” I move closer to him and he doesn’t pull back. He stands stiffly like he wants to escape but doesn’t trust himself to move.
“What are you doing out here?” he asks and his voice is thick with something. Indecision? Anger? I can never tell with him and it drives me crazy.
“Papa’s going to send me away. He’s going to use Rinaldo as an excuse.”
“I don’t think—” he starts, but stops himself and nods once. “Yeah, shit, you’re right. That’s exactly something your father would do.”
“I’m screwed unless I find another option.”
“Not many eligible men out here, princess.” He doesn’t smile. It’s not a joke. He knows what I’m hinting toward but he won’t be the first to say it out loud.
My hearts racing wildly and excitement blooms in my stomach. I have butterflies like I’m a little girl with her first crush.
It’s bizarre, because this man makes me angrier than anyone I’ve ever met, and yet right now, in this moment, I want to taste his mouth on mine. I want to taste the whiskey on his tongue, sweet and oaky and sharp. I want his hands on my hips, their rough skin pushing up beneath my sweatshirt toward my breasts and my stiff nipples. I want it, and I don’t understand why.
Did I ever feel this way with Rinaldo? I was nervous, yes, even a little excited—
But nothing like this. Not even close. It’s like my body’s on fire, every inch of my skin alive with feeling and sensation. The idea of asking this man to marry me is repulsive and attractive, the perfect push-pull. It wakes me up and drives me wild.
“You never answered my question earlier.”
“I know.”
“Want to tell me now? Want to finally tell me why you hate me so much? Here’s your chance. I won’t get mad. I won’t even hold it against you. One free shot, no holding back. Say anything you want.”
His lips quirk. It’s an ugly, bitter smile. “You really think I hold back, princess?” he speaks softly. Quiet enough that I have to move closer.
“You’re right. I guess you don’t. So that’s it then? I’m a spoiled brat, therefore you hate me? Seems pretty simple.”
“Guess I’m a simple man. I don’t mind if you’re disappointed.”
“Strangely, I’m not, because I know you’re lying.” I stare into his honey-colored eyes. Since when did they shine like that?
“You should go back inside. Your brothers won’t like it if you’re alone with a man outside of the family right now.”
“My brothers are too busy feeling sorry for themselves over what happened to me to notice.” I’m tempted to reach up and touch the scar that runs down his face, but his smile turns into a deep, dark frown as he glares down at me.