Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 336(@250wpm)___ 280(@300wpm)
My time?
I looked up at him, our eyes locking. Tears poured down my face, and I didn’t hide the pain I was feeling. It hurt worse than any bruise Winters had left on my body.
“I hate you,” I whispered.
He smiled sadly.
“I know.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
DANTE
I wandered the condo, unable to sit. I drank whatever was handy, the alcohol barely numbing the pain. One night, I drank myself into oblivion and woke up the next day with an upended table, a black eye, and a cut hand. I had no one to blame but myself, and I limited my drinking.
Nothing was keeping me in Naples, but I couldn’t stand the thought of going back to the villa.
Brianna had only been here a short time, and she was still everywhere. Her laughter soaked into the walls, her scent on my sheets.
At the villa, she would surround me. Every room, every surface, would have a memory of her etched into it. Even outside, she would dwell, peering at me around every corner, taunting me with her memory.
I couldn’t bear it. Not yet.
I knew she was back in Toronto. Paolo had her. He had met the plane and took her to his house, making sure she had a safe place to recover and find her feet. When I asked how she was, his answer had been brief and to the point.
“How do you think she is?”
“Take care of her,” I replied.
His voice had softened. “I will.”
Winters’s revenge had already started. My gallery in Naples had been broken in to. Or at least, it was attempted. They did a great deal of damage to the outside but, luckily, hadn’t made it in. The gallery was closed until I had the exterior fixed. I went to investigate the damage, angry at the sight of my beautiful gallery torched and the glass windows, while still intact, covered in thousands of spider webs of cracks. The canopy was gone, lost to the flames, the beautiful handmade wrought-iron sign covered in soot and warped.
I’d had another run-in with Winters while there. I saw him across the street, his expression smug and satisfied. My anger burning bright over the destruction of my gallery, I stormed over to him, grabbing him by the lapels and glaring down at him.
“Looking at your handiwork, Winters? Gloating?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” His smirk was exultant.
I pulled him closer, the bruises on his face dark and painful-looking. I hoped he was suffering. I certainly was. “I know this was your work. Revenge for humiliating you.”
“Where is your little toy?” he asked, his voice menacing. “I still plan on taking her from you.”
That was the wrong thing to say. I drew back, punching him in the stomach. He doubled over in pain, falling to the ground.
“You stay away from her. From me. Come near her again, and I will kill you. Do you understand me?” I raged.
A gasp behind me brought me out of my anger. I passed my now-reinjured hand over my head, feeling weary. “Stay away, Winters. That is your last warning.”
I didn’t want him to know she was gone. I wanted him chasing around, looking for her. Going crazy because he couldn’t find her. I knew she was safe and protected. He wouldn’t get that satisfaction. I walked away, pushing my way through the crowd that had gathered. I left the gallery and returned to the condo.
I doubled all the security. My villa was protected, and my staff on high alert in my small town. Guards were outside patrolling twenty-four seven.
Another small business I owned in Naples was ransacked, the damage expensive. He was hitting where he thought I would hurt the most—my pocketbook.
But my heart was the worst place he struck. Without my little bee, nothing seemed to matter. But she was safe with Paolo. Winters had no information on her. He wouldn’t be able to find her.
Richard told me she had sobbed herself to sleep, and when she woke up, she was angry and defiant, barely talking unless she was expressing her displeasure.
“She called me some odd names,” he shared. “Motherplucker. Son of a biscuit eater.”
“She doesn’t like to swear,” I explained. “She prefers colorful expressions she has overheard.”
He had chuckled. “Colorful, indeed.”
Despite the pain I felt, his words made me smile. My little bee was tough. She’d make it through this. I had put money in her account, and I planned on backing a bakery for her—not that she would know the money was from me. I would have Paolo present her the offer, and I hoped she would accept it. I wanted her to have her dream.
For a brief while, she had been my dream. All the things I had never known I wanted or needed. But I had to let that go to keep her safe. Winters was unhinged enough; he would make good on his threat, and I couldn’t risk her being taken. Even once she left Paolo’s, I would make sure she was watched.