Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 38723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38723 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 129(@300wpm)
“Luca!” My name hitched on a sob, and I blindly groped my way to the bars, toward her.
The world finally came into focus, and fear lanced my heart. Dark red blood splattered her left shoulder.
“What did he do to you?” The demand was so roughened by rage that it was barely intelligible.
She shook her head, mussed hair swaying around her pale cheeks. Tears glistened on her face, falling in thick streams. She threw herself at the bars, reaching for me. Instead of taking her hands in mine, my touch roved over her chest, checking her injuries.
“It’s not my blood,” she choked out. “It’s Dante’s. The Russians…” She shuddered and choked off on a sob. Pressing herself tighter against the bars, she grabbed my shoulders and pulled me toward her for a fierce embrace. The metallic barriers were frigid between us, but they didn’t stop me from holding her as close as possible.
“You’re not hurt?” I asked, even though she felt whole in my arms.
“No,” she replied, her voice small. Her delicate frame shook, and I rubbed my hands down her spine in an effort to soothe her.
“Is he dead?”
Hope sparked in my chest, but it was quickly doused when she said, “No. I don’t think so. He was still fighting them when I last saw him.”
“But he was bleeding,” I pressed. Maybe he would succumb to his wounds, and then we would be free of him.
“Yes, but he was wearing a bulletproof vest.” She pressed closer to me, and I registered the bulky Kevlar that shielded her own body. I’d been so distracted by the sight of blood on her that I hadn’t noticed it.
“What happened?” I asked as gently as I could manage. I was desperate for more information. Dante could be bleeding out right now. Or he might have a bullet in his brain.
My fingers itched to wrap around his throat. He didn’t deserve a quick death. And if anyone had a right to kill him, it was me.
She drew in a shuddering breath. “He was taking me to see Giana, and the Russians were waiting for us just a few miles down the road from the estate.”
I gnashed my teeth. “He was taking you to your father’s house? After yesterday?”
The bastard truly was heartless. He’d witnessed firsthand how terrified she was of her own family, but he was going to drag her back to that hell anyway.
“He promised he wouldn’t let my father see me,” she continued, as though that excused his rash actions somehow. “I’m desperate to talk to Giana. I would’ve faced Father just for the opportunity to hug her for a few seconds.”
The motherfucker never should’ve put her in that position. He never should’ve taken her off the estate as long as he knew the Bratva was a threat. He’d been careless with her safety. He kept saying how I wasn’t worthy of being her husband, but he’d failed her today.
“What happened next?” I prompted, needing more information about our captor’s condition.
“We were forced off the road, and the SUV wrecked.”
Fear rippled through me, and I pulled away from her so that I could study her again. Just because the visible blood on her shoulder hadn’t spilled from her own body, that didn’t mean she wasn’t injured.
“Take off the vest,” I ordered.
“I’m fine,” she insisted, but she was still trembling.
I fixed her with a stern stare. “Take it off.”
Her hands shook as she complied, but she managed to shrug out of the vest. I didn’t see any blood on the part of her cream-colored blouse that’d been protected by the Kevlar, but that didn’t mean she was all right. She could’ve broken a bone in the crash and not realized because of the adrenaline coursing through her system.
“Take off the blouse. And your jeans. Now,” I added with a bite of command when she hesitated.
She didn’t move with her usual grace as she fumbled at her buttons, but she managed to strip off her clothes after a few awkward attempts.
I held out my hand through the bars when she’d stripped down to her white lace bra and panties. “Come here.”
She stepped toward me without hesitation or shyness at her near nakedness. She trusted me enough to be vulnerable around me. And not only in her nudity. She’d just been attacked by the Bratva, and she’d run to me for comfort. My brave wife felt safe with me, despite all my failings.
Familiar shame singed the edges of my thoughts, but I ignored it. Seeing to her wellbeing was the only thing that mattered now. My desire for her safety and happiness was no longer rooted in selfishness, although I was still a possessive bastard when it came to Nora. But in our terrible days of suffering at Dante’s hands, I’d come to care for her more deeply than I could’ve anticipated when I’d forced her to marry me. She was no longer simply a pretty woman to share my bed with; she was so much more beautiful than I’d ever given her credit for. So strong and loyal.