Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73380 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
“Rafa isn’t nice, Gabriela. Don’t you know that yet?”
“I do know that, Stefan, but I also know he’s here when you’re not. When you just lock me up here. I don’t know why you brought me if it was only to lock me away on my own.”
He looks confused for a moment, then one side of his mouth curves upward and he snorts.
“What do you think this is exactly?”
I don’t answer him. This is Stefan the jerk. This is a whole other side of Stefan to the man who carried me out of that well and it hurts to hear him now. To hear him like this after everything.
He leans back and the look on his face, that, too, hurts. Twists something inside me.
“Do you make up stories? Make yourself the princess in the tower? Locked away by the beast?”
I feel so small and I have nothing to say.
“Maybe you are that. And I admit I’m more beast than prince. But you don’t really fantasize that I’ll be a doting husband, do you? That we’ll play house? Please tell me you’re not falling in love with me, Gabriela.”
My face burns and I look away. I hug my arms to myself.
No. Never. Never that.
I hate him.
I hate Stefan Sabbioni.
I just need to remember that. To channel that hate. Use it like a weapon, like he does.
Who are you? A voice in my head asks sharply.
This is where my upbringing comes in handy. This part I can do. I’m not so out of my element now. I can hate with the best of them.
“You asked me a question. I answered it. That’s all.” My tone is flat, forceful almost.
He rubs his hand over his mouth. “Yeah. You did.” He retrieves my dress, returns to me. “Arms up,” he says.
“I can dress myself.”
“Arms up.”
“I’m not a fucking doll.”
He grips my jaw and pulls me up so I’m half sitting, half standing. “Watch your fucking mouth. Arms. Up.”
“So you can say what you like, but I have to watch my mouth?”
“Maybe I need to spank you again. For real, this time.” He hardens his grip but I take it. I grit my teeth and take it. “Do you want that, Gabriela? Tell me. Do you want to feel what it will feel like when I spank you for real? Because what I’ve done up until now is child’s play.”
“Let go.” I say, feeling the stupid fall of tears.
He shakes his head. “Tears don’t move me. Have you not figured that out yet?”
“Just let me go.” My voice breaks and I sniffle back a sob. I hate him. I hate him so much.
“Then raise your arms so I can dress you.”
My arms shake as I do it, and he releases my jaw and slips the dress over my head.
“Stand up.”
I look up at him, and all I can think is how alone I am. How completely alone. Why does it feel worse now than it did before? I’ve always been alone. Why does it hurt so much now?
“Why didn’t you just leave me in that well? You should have.”
At that he pauses, and I swear that for one split second, I see that other Stefan. The one who came for me, who climbed into that well to carry me out. The one who swore he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me again.
I want that Stefan. I need him. And that is the worst part of this.
I turn away when more tears fall. I don’t wipe my eyes fast enough though because one drops to my knee and I know he sees. I feel so small, so incredibly, stupidly small, that I just sit there and keep wiping at these stupid never-ending tears. And here I thought I was so strong.
“Stop feeling sorry for yourself and get up.”
I stand up, using my wrists to wipe my eyes.
He leans in toward me, wraps his big arms around me and I hate myself for wanting to lean in to him. For thinking that he means to hold me. I hate myself for wanting that. For wanting him to fucking hold me.
Because all he does is zip the dress before he steps backward.
He only did what he did to get me to talk. But I don’t understand. The spanking, I can see that. Hurt me to make me talk. That’s what the mafia does, right? But why the rest? Why tell me he can be gentle? Why did he lay me back on that ottoman and do what he did? Why did he hold me afterwards?
I shake my head, dislodge those thoughts.
He doesn’t care about me. That is all I need to remember. I’m sure he’s got women lined up to fuck, Clara at the front of that line. What use would he have for an inexperienced virgin who happens to be his enemy’s daughter?