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)
A part of me wants to marry her for all my selfish reasons—so she can let me move around the house freely, so I can get my revenge on her father, so I can take her body and use it for my pleasure—but another part wants to run far, far away. Some long-buried morality locked deep in the gritty, dank recesses of my soul recoils at the thought of using her.
“What you’re saying is, I can let you kiss me whenever you want, I can bend over backwards to try to impress you, I can do everything right and you still might screw me over in the end?”
“Basically, yes.”
“Give me a reason not to scream and throw you out of here right now.” She’s squirming, she’s so damn mad, and it’s adorable as hell.
“I’m your only shot.”
She studies me for a moment and a stillness comes over her. “I could find someone else, you know. You bought me some time.”
“True, you could.” I nod slightly, conceding the point. “But I don’t think your father will accept anyone else. I’m not even convinced he’ll accept me.”
“You’re not exactly a sure bet right now.”
“At least there’s a chance with me. Instead of feeling bad for yourself, maybe you should try taking control of your life for once.”
Her jaw clenches down. “God, you’re such a bastard. Even when you’re doing something nice. What do you even want me to do? How am I supposed to prove to you that I’m not what you think I am? You’ve known me for years, Nico.”
“That’s a good point.” I nod at the sketchbook. “Why don’t you start by showing me whatever you were drawing?”
“Fuck that.” She laughs once. “I’d rather go to Dallas. This is just for me.”
“Your reaction basically confirms that it’s full of sketches of me. Do you write our initials and circle them with a heart? Do you write Mrs. Nico over and over in cursive?”
“No, actually, I spend all day drawing elaborate images of you getting decapitated. It’s like my therapy.”
I laugh and a buzzing pulse runs down my body. I love sparring with her more than I’d ever admit.
“All right princess. I’ll make this easy on you. Do something to prove you’re not some spoiled brat and I’ll consider marrying you. Otherwise, good luck in Dallas. I’m sure you’ll love eating caviar and pickled fish and vodka.”
I turn to leave but she calls my name. “Nico, wait a second.”
I half turn and raise an eyebrow.
She’s glaring at me with red cheeks and her voice drops. I have to lean in to hear her.
“Don’t kiss me again. That’s all I ask, okay? If you’re going to kiss me—just don’t.”
My lips curl and my blood pulses fast. “Been thinking about it, haven’t you?”
“Yeah, Nico. I’ve been thinking about how much I despise you and don’t want you to touch me.”
“Liar. Look at you. You’re sweating and flushed pink. You’re practically writhing with need.”
“I’m struggling to stop myself from stabbing you in the eye with his charcoal pencil.”
I laugh and turn away again. “No promises, princess.” I walk out of there and ignore her frustrated shout.
A pencil slams against the wall next to me and skitters to the floor.
I keep on digging this hole, deeper and deeper, and I don’t think I can stop.
Chapter 15
Karah
“Okay Kar, do you have any clue what you’re doing?”
I run my hands along the counter and shrug. “How hard can it be?”
“It’s an actual job, you know.” Gavino looks at me skeptically. “Have you ever had a job before?”
“Yes,” I say angrily, but sigh. “Okay, no. But it’s easy. It’s just swapping out shoes.”
“And cleaning them, and keeping track of the shoes you get, and I’m sure other stuff.” Gavino leans his elbows on the counter, grinning at me. “You’re so screwed.”
“Fuck off, Gav.”
“Absolutely not, Kar. I’m loving this too much.”
The sound of bowling balls smashing into pins makes me think of that first night when I nearly approached Rinaldo. I wish desperately that I’d listened to Nico back then and never gone through with it—but there’s no changing the past.
Even if the past keeps trying to change me.
The alley’s not too crowded for a Wednesday evening. Casso lounges at the bar taking meetings with his soldiers and other various guys while Nico lurks nearby. I keep catching smirking glares from him but I do my best to ignore whatever he’s trying to do.
I’m embarrassed and nervous and deep under water, but I’m not about to roll over and give up. I nearly got strangled and forcibly taken by Rinaldo, all to stay away from Dallas—the least I can do is get a damn job.
I doubt it’ll work, but it’s a good first step. Casso was skeptical when I approached him this morning and begged him to get me a job, but he finally gave in. I was lucky since the alley needed someone to help run the shoes counter after a couple people quit, and so I’m starting my first official shift only a few hours after begging for a chance.