Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54160 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
I wouldn’t show further weakness. And I wouldn’t let him touch me again. Not when I knew he wouldn’t be the one to suffer the consequences; Father would have a fit if he knew I’d allowed a man to touch me.
I took a breath and settled my features into the composed expression that was my best protection against men’s cruel interest. If I gave them no reason to be angry with me, I wouldn’t be hurt. The small, serene smile was a mask that shielded the fire in my soul. They wouldn’t try to snuff it out if I didn’t let them see it.
Despite my calm demeanor, familiar dread weighed in my stomach, growing heavier with each step toward the study. Nothing good ever happened to me in that room. I was either called in for a reprimand or unpleasant news. My fingers flexed at my sides in a fruitless attempt to release some of the mounting anxiety that wound my muscles tighter with each passing second.
“Do I make you nervous, little bird?” That mocking, amused tone again, but slightly deeper this time, another velvet caress.
I’d almost forgotten about Dante’s imposing presence at my side as my worry escalated, and I jolted slightly at his question.
“You’re not the one I’m worried about,” I answered honestly before I could think better of telling the truth.
I didn’t know Dante at all, and showing any man a shred of vulnerability usually ended in more pain. Father’s men liked inflicting pain. He selected them as his guards for their sadistic tendencies; he liked to inspire fear.
I edged away from Dante. I’d heard stories about his sadistic nature too. The urbane man strolling casually at my side was capable of shocking, brutal violence that made even the hardest men in our organization tread lightly in his presence.
He made a low humming sound that was almost a growl. It rumbled along my bones, drawing another shiver to the surface of my skin.
Too soon, we reached the threshold to the study. Instinct made me want to draw in a deep breath to fortify myself, but I didn’t dare. I arranged my face in a careful, pleasant mask and lifted my chin as I stepped inside.
Father sat behind his enormous, imposing mahogany desk, flanked by Giorgio, his most vicious bodyguard. My father was still fearsome and ruthless, but age stooped his shoulders, and the beginnings of arthritis curled his fingers. He wasn’t physically capable of doling out the violence he’d once been renowned for. There was a reason he’d earned his place as consigliere of the Vitale crime family, Tommaso Vitale’s right-hand man.
Tommaso, the boss of the organization, was in even poorer health than my father, on his deathbed if the rumors were to be believed. Heart disease didn’t discriminate. It would take down the terrifying crime boss more cruelly than any bullet he’d dodged over the years.
I ignored the sharp glint in my father’s hazel eyes and went to join my sister, Giana. Her olive toned features were nearly identical to mine, but her trepidation made her appear slighter than me, younger despite the fact that she’d been born eighteen months earlier. The glimmers of golden strands shone through her brown hair, making her appear like a delicate, ethereal nymph in the low lighting of the opulent study.
Wood paneled walls surrounded us, closing in tighter with each of my carefully measured breaths. I wanted to take Giana’s hand in mine and give it a reassuring squeeze, but I knew Giorgio’s black eyes would immediately take note of the small show of weakness. Giana was fragile enough as it was, almost trembling in the burly guard’s shadow; she didn’t need any sign of comfort from me to signal further vulnerability.
“Dante, thank you for coming,” Father greeted as the impossibly handsome, disconcerting man entered the study behind me. I felt his heat at my back, still a little too close for polite company.
I released a small breath when he strolled past me, and the sense that I was being watched like prey finally eased. His focus was on my father now, and I nearly sagged with relief; I hadn’t realized how his attention had put all my survival instincts on high alert, and now that his intense gaze shifted, I felt almost lightheaded at the release.
Dante tipped his head in an almost imperceptible nod, the barest show of submission. “I’m always happy to accept an invitation from you, Giuseppe.”
My father leaned forward on his elbows, his sharp gaze skewering the younger man. Dante didn’t so much as flinch. He met Father’s bone-quaking stare head on.
“Tommaso is dying,” Father said bluntly, cutting right to the chase with his usual battering ram approach to negotiations. “As you know, he expects his son, Luca, to take his place at the head of our family.”