Total pages in book: 145
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 685(@200wpm)___ 548(@250wpm)___ 456(@300wpm)
Remo gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging into my skin. His eyes burned with rage. “Good. Because you will. Nevio and I questioned the attacker and you know what he said?”
A sinking feeling settled in the pit of my stomach, one I hadn’t wanted to entertain. “Cressida.” The voice was a hoarse rasp.
Remo’s lips pulled wide, not a smile, a grimace. “Indeed. Your wife.”
Fury and guilt raged inside of me. I’d truly underestimated her. For the second time in my life. “Who else was involved? What about the attacker?”
“He said he belonged to Antonaci, spewed some religious bullshit, and didn’t stop going on about the Famiglia’s traditions until Nevio made him.”
I nodded. Because Cressida couldn’t have done it without her father. He would die, and so would Cressida. So would every single fucker involved in this.
“Let me see Greta now. There’s time for talk about revenge later.”
Remo moved even closer, his face right before mine. “Greta thinks you love her.”
“I do. I love her. She’ll be my wife once Cressida is gone.”
“Divorce won’t be necessary, true.” Something in his expression shifted, pain in his eyes that stirred up my worries. He gave a nod toward Nino. I was starting to grow tired of this conversation. I just wanted to see Greta.
“You might want to know that Greta won’t be able to give birth. Her injuries were too severe.”
I froze, swallowing hard. “What?”
Remo nodded. “They didn’t go in for the kill. They stabbed her abdomen and shattered her knee. Your dear wife thought taking away the ability to bear children and to dance would break Greta and maybe make you see her as less worthy.”
“I love Greta. I’ll still love her if she can’t ever dance, even when she can’t give me children. I love her and I want to be with her. Nothing will change that, and you won’t stop me from being with her either. This time absolutely nothing will stop me.”
Remo stepped aside and pushed open the door. I walked inside and everything seemed to stand still.
Greta looked small and breakable in the hospital bed. Her lips and face were almost white, she was so pale. In two large strides, I was by her side and bent over her, cradling the back of her head and kissing her forehead. My heart throbbed in my chest, every pump as painful as a bullet shot to the heart. “Oh Greta,” I rasped. “I’m so sorry. I should have protected you. I won’t ever leave you unprotected. As long as I live, I’ll make sure you’re safe.”
I kept my more violent thoughts to myself. That I would make sure everyone involved in this would die an agonizing death. After another gentle kiss to her forehead, I lifted my head to look at her face. Even now she was painstakingly beautiful. I ran my fingers through her shaggy, chin-long hair. The tips were burned. I hadn’t noticed before but she smelled like a bonfire.
I didn’t want to think about the pain she had to endure, about the absolute terror. Women should be protected in our world, kept away from harm. Maybe it was an old-fashioned view, but I simply wanted them protected. With Marcella my family had failed and now with Greta another woman I loved had suffered.
I could feel Remo’s eyes on me the entire time, but I didn’t care. I’d learned from my father that loving someone didn’t mean you were weak.
My eyes burned as if I might cry. I couldn’t remember if I’d ever cried in my life. Mom said I had on occasion when I was a little boy, but since then nothing had ever brought me close to tears. Not even when my sister had been kidnapped by our worst enemy and I’d been sure we wouldn’t see her again. Certainly not pain.
But looking down at Greta’s pale face and her bandaged hand resting on her belly, where no child of ours would ever grow—, I was on the verge of tears. I fought it and my eyes remained dry. I linked our fingers and my gaze slid down to her leg which was in splints to keep it immobilized. The cast looked massive on Greta’s slender leg. I pressed my forehead to hers. Just like I never cried, I never prayed, but now I sent a prayer up, asking that Greta would dance again. I didn’t want to consider that she lost that too.
My hand that wasn’t holding Greta’s hand curled into a tight fist. I would kill Cressida. I’d never killed a woman in my life. Looking at the woman I loved more than life itself and thinking of how I’d soon have to tell her that she would never carry a child, though she was one of the most caring and kind people I had ever met, I knew it wouldn’t be a quick end for Cressida either.