Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78811 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 394(@200wpm)___ 315(@250wpm)___ 263(@300wpm)
I glance at it. “It’s too big.”
“You chose it.” He moves to the door.
“Wait. Can I leave the room at least?”
“When I’m back.”
“So I just sit here and do nothing.”
He opens the door. “Do some more reading.” He gestures to the table across the room, and I see that awful book of the Russo family wrongdoings, according to him and his brother. Like it’s their fucking gospel. “If I leave the balcony door open, are you going to do anything stupid?”
“Like jump?”
“Like jump.”
“No. I wouldn’t do that to my sister.” Besides, it’s nice to have fresh air.
“Good. Consider it a test. There are about twenty armed men on the property. You try anything, one of them will bring you back and strap you to the bed until I’m home to punish you. Clear?”
I give him the fakest smile and flip him the finger.
“Clear?” he asks again, eyebrow raised.
“Clear.”
He opens the door and walks out into the hallway. “Do you think I can get some bread and water at least?” I call out.
“I’ll send proper food up,” he says, looking me over.
“How generous of you.”
“It’s purely selfish. I like my women with a little more meat on the bone.”
“I’m not your woman.”
“Something to hold on to,” he continues as if I haven’t spoken.
“Fuck off.”
He does, closing the door behind him and then locking it. I’m not his woman. That wasn’t part of the deal. But then the memory of their hands on me draws up a very vivid image while setting butterflies aflutter in my stomach.
With a groan, I carry my coffee to the open French door, and step outside onto the small stone balcony with its ornate balustrade. It makes me think of Romeo and Juliet, which is ridiculous since this is no romance. I may be in a beautiful villa overlooking a majestic turquoise sea, but the door is locked. I am a princess in a tower. And I have to contend with not one but two dragons.
17
Vittoria
I give it a good hour after he’s gone before I knock on my own bedroom door to get Oaf’s attention. He opens it and raises his eyebrows.
“What do you want?”
“I left something in Amadeo’s room last night. I need to get it.”
“No.” He starts to pull the door shut.
I put my foot out to stop it from closing. “Look, I don’t want to be gross, but I have my period and left my tampons in his bathroom. I need to change, or I’m going to make a bloody mess here.” Oaf looks as awkward as I imagined he would. “It’ll take a minute. I’ll just run over and grab the box.”
“Fine.” He opens the door and takes my arm before I step out into the hallway. “Don’t try anything.”
“What would I try? How could I ever get away from someone like you? You’re obviously too big and strong for me.” I want to puke. “Besides, even if I somehow managed it, there are more armed men on-site. I’m not stupid. I just really don’t want to bleed all over Amadeo’s nice things,” I say, purposely circling back to the topic. “Obviously, this room belonged to someone important once.”
He walks me to Amadeo’s room, opens the door, and steps in with me.
“I’ll be a minute. I need to slip a tampon in. I had to take the one I was—"
“Do what you need to do,” he says, holding a hand up in a gesture for me to stop talking. He steps back into the hallway, and although I’d love it if he’d close the door, he doesn’t. But he’s reasonably busy on his phone, so I hurry toward the dresser where I saw Amadeo drop my father’s ring and open the drawer. It’s just tossed in there like it’s nothing. I grab it out, slip it onto my thumb, even though it’s too big, and close the drawer. It jams.
“Hey. You done?” Oaf calls out.
“Yeah, thanks,” I say, pushing my hand into my pocket. “Grabbed some.”
“Good.” He takes my arm to walk me back to my room and is about to lock me in, but I stop him.
“I won’t tell Amadeo about you letting me out. I know he won’t like that, and I don’t want to get you in trouble.”
He considers this, then nods. I assume that means he won’t mention it either, so I slip into the bedroom and let him lock me in, smiling as I draw my hand from my pocket and look at my prize.
Although my win is bittersweet. Wholly bitter, in fact. There’s nothing sweet about this. My father is dead. Gone. This is the last thing of his that I have, and he should have been buried with it. Buried properly in a coffin, not dropped into a hole in the ground facedown.
I look around the room. It hasn’t been used for a while but has good views. Better than Amadeo’s, actually, if I think about it. I open each of the drawers in the dresser as well as the antique armoire and find it all empty except for a blank notebook and one framed photo that must have been missed in the back of a drawer. I take it out and see how the glass has cracked. It’s the only personal thing in here.