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)
“I’m not going to hurt you. I never was. I told you that last night.”
“I don’t believe you.” I pull myself up to a seat as far from him as possible, draw my knees up and wrap my arms around them.
I don’t know what hurts worse, the fact that I’m going to lose my brother—because I will. My father, Stefan, men like them, you don’t win against them, I know that.
But it’s not that that’s twisting my insides.
It’s Stefan’s betrayal.
I rest my forehead on my knees and close my eyes. My head hurts, and my heart hurts and I didn’t think it was possible to feel any worse than I did in that well. Alone in that darkness and cold and stench. But it is.
“Gabriela—”
“Get out. Just get out.”
His eyes narrow, jaw tightens. I know he wants to say something but I just bury my face again and I hear him walk to the door, open it. “She’s not to leave this room until I send for her,” he says to the man outside.
I wasn’t going to leave. Where would I go?
The door closes.
I just sit there, and I feel more alone than I’ve ever felt in my life.
13
Stefan
By the time I get downstairs, the paperwork’s been updated. I sign and, fuck, what I’d give to punch the stupid grin off Waverly’s face. To slam my fist into it and knock out his over-bleached teeth.
But I force my hands into my pockets, fisting them there, thinking about her upstairs.
Doesn’t she know me by now? At least a little?
“Mr. Marchese will be in touch,” Waverly says.
“Mr. Marchese can go fuck himself,” I reply, never taking my eyes off him.
He closes his briefcase, gathers it up and is smart enough not to extend his hand for me to shake.
“I’ll see myself out,” he says.
Like hell he will. One of my men accompanies him to his car and follows him out the gate. I pour myself a whiskey.
Over the next thirty minutes, Paulo prepares another form, one Waverly and Marchese won’t see until it’s too late. He straightens, smiles awkwardly as if he didn’t just witness what happened.
A single heroic act does not a hero make.
No. No hero here.
I run a hand through my hair, unable to get the way she looked at me out of my head.
“Finished?” I snap.
“Yes, it’s finished. She just needs to sign this. I’ll pick it up and file it once everything is in order.”
Once we’re man and wife. And then only after I’ve greased many palms.
“Thank you,” I force.
“You’re welcome. I’ll be heading home, then. Let me know if you need anything else.”
I nod, shake his hand and when he’s gone, I close my office door and study the papers.
How will she feel about this? Will she see it as a heroic act or a heinous one?
I know the real answer. I know myself.
I tell one of the guards to bring her downstairs and get up to switch on the stereo. Mephistopheles sings, brokering Faust’s deal with the devil. Fitting.
Gabriela walks into the study not five minutes later. Or, more accurately, she’s walked inside. And what I see in her eyes is betrayal. Hopelessness. And hate. And all I can think is she’s too young and too innocent for this.
To know so much despair.
But she is who she is. The devil’s daughter. And I just brokered my own deal.
I’ve stolen her.
And I’m not finished yet.
“Sit down, Gabriela.”
She folds her arms across her chest and shakes her head, eyes accusing as she presses her back to the wall.
“I said sit.” I think about last night. About this morning. Hell, about a few hours ago at the pool. That girl is gone. This one, she’s the one from before. The one who was hauled into her father’s study to sign away her life.
“Fuck you, Stefan. You’re a liar.”
I study her, take in the words. Feel her hate.
“Sit down before I make you.”
She swallows. She knows I will.
Her hands are fists as she walks toward the couch and perches on the very edge.
“After everything, you trust me so little?” I ask.
“You lie constantly. You play games with me.”
“I haven’t lied to you. I’ve been fairly straight forward, in fact.”
She snorts, shakes her head. “Really? Sneaking my father’s attorney here while I wait for you upstairs. While I wait for you to fuck me upstairs, that’s straightforward?”
“This is my house. I wasn’t sneaking anyone in. I needed to get this done before I could tell you what—”
“Save it.” She’s on her feet, hands at her sides. “Tell it to someone who cares. Who gives a fuck what you say. Every single word that comes out of your mouth is a fucking lie.”
My hands are fisted too and I’m trying to be patient. To see from her point of view. She’s young. A girl. And she’s emotional as fuck. Marchese is trying to drive a wedge between us. I know it. Doesn’t she see it? What’s happening between us now, it’s exactly what he wants.