Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34419 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 172(@200wpm)___ 138(@250wpm)___ 115(@300wpm)
Oh God.
Cesare gets back up, and a swift yank on the steering wheel has our car swerving away in safety, and a weird ringing fills my eardrums as I watch the other car spin out of control.
God. Oh God.
I feel sick to my stomach as I force myself to look over my shoulder, and I see all the carnage we're leaving behind.
"Brava, tesoro."
The words have my gaze jerking back to Cesare, and I look at him in a daze. "W-What?"
"You just had your first kill—-"
It almost sounds like he's proud of me, but that can't be, right?
"It w-wasn't. I d-didn't—-" I look at him desperately. "Maybe he's not dead?"
"With that hole in his head?" Cesare says with a snort. "You have a very dark sense of humor—-Penelope? Fuck! Penelope!"
Chapter Ten
Penelope
TWO THINGS COME TO mind as soon as I wake.
Firstly: I fainted.
And secondly: Cesare was right.
I did kill someone, and the thought has me flying off the bed. I barely make it in time, my knees crashing to the floor as I throw up in the toilet bowl.
I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry.
My brain is insisting I had no choice, but my heart believes things could've ended differently...if I hadn't so foolishly panicked.
I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry.
Maybe I'll get over this in time, but right now, the act of taking another person's life is weighing me down like a brick around my neck, and I feel like I'm about to drown in my guilt at any moment.
I've watched people killing other people all the time in action movies, and they all make it look so easy. Other people's deaths don't seem to bother them, and it's all because they're the good guys, and the ones they've killed are the bad guys.
I'm sorry, God, I'm sorry.
"Are you alright?"
A gentle hand carefully gathers my hair away as I vomit the last of my breakfast, and I feel weak and dizzy as I lean back against the wall.
I catch a brief glimpse of a girl with bubblegum-colored hair quickly leaving my side with the full skirts of her ankle-length dress swishing around her legs. When she comes back, it's to meticulously wipe off the puke from my face. "Feeling better?"
Her tone is calm and sensible, and the remnants of my shock eventually fade at the reassuring sound. "Uh...yes. T-Thanks."
She helps me back to my feet, and it's as we're walking out of the en-suite that I belatedly notice my surroundings. This...is definitely not the same bedroom I slept in last night, and I can't help feeling anxious. "Where am I?"
"One of the guestrooms in Cesare's penthouse."
The way she says his name with utter ease has me clumsily falling back on the bed, and a green-eyed monster starts messing with my brain as the other girl takes a step back from me.
She looks about my age, maybe a few years older tops, and so eye-catchingly attractive with her lilac-colored locks and the dramatic shimmer around her cat eyes. Even her outfit is an enthralling contrast: a vicious-looking pair of army boots...vis a vis her dark-gray apron dress that's made more prim and proper by the white-buttoned-up blouse underneath, with its round collars and long, billowy sleeves.
She kinda looks like Wednesday Addams dressed up as Harley Quinn for Halloween, or maybe it's the other way around?
Either way, I'm just praying she's related to Cesare by blood...or I'll have a huge problem in my hands, if this girl somehow turns out to be my rival.
"Do you need anything?" the girl asks. "A glass of water? Painkillers? A—-?"
"Are you also a Marchetti?" I blurt out.
"No way!"
Her aghast tone takes me aback...even as I start feeling a little sick again. I'm so, so dead if this girl is also after Cesare—-
"Or at least not yet," she adds with a roll of her eyes, "and if it were up to me, I won't be one...ever."
I can only stare at her, now more confused than jealous and insecure.
"I obviously forgot to introduce myself," she says with a wrinkle of her nose. "I'm Sarica, you're Penelope, and in case you're wondering why I already know who you are - or what I'm doing here - I guess you can say we're in the same boat?"
My eyes widen. "You're...you're engaged to one of Cesare's brothers?"
"To Mr. Perfect himself, actually."
I have no idea who that is, but I'm more than a little curious with how she says the word 'perfect' like it's synonymous to 'pervert'—-
"Speak of the devil," Sarica mutters under her breath as the door swings open, and a man who strongly resembles Cesare in appearance comes striding in. Same dark coloring, same build and height, only this time the man looks slightly more distinguished with the faint hint of silver streaking through his hair.
Sarica waves to him, saying, "Penelope, meet Giancarlo, Cesare's oldest brother."