Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Shit.
Now, I’m the one referring to herself as a dog.
“She’s not gonna do that,” Adam argues on my behalf. “She’s not that fucking stupid.”
“She’s stupid enough to believe that asshole who shot me in the foot actually loves her instead of just loves fucking her,” he grunts in disgust. “Pretty sure she’s stupid enough to think he’d come save her if she could send him a bat signal.”
“Enough!” My stepfather viciously bites to silence his sons.
Chills run along my spine from the chilly air; however, I ignore them to listen for distinct sounds, like water or birds or maybe even cows, just in case they decide to not uncover me.
A hand unexpectedly lands on my shoulder to offer me a comforting stroke. Instinctually, I jerk away at the new touch, which causes my stepfather’s tone to flatten into his consolatory one. “Look, Elle, I know I could never replace Bruno.”
Thankfully, the hood hides my sneering of hearing him say my dad’s name.
“I honestly never wanted to. I didn’t want to erase the man who came before me. I simply wanted you to know I was a new man in your life that you could rely on.”
Liar.
If that were true, he would’ve convinced my mother to help me get a car with my savings in high school rather than lend him the money to bail his oldest out of jail or not used what he could of my college fund to pay off bookies.
“I know I’ve made some mistakes in the past, but you are my daughter,” he concludes, taking an overdramatic pause worthy of an Academy Award, “and I failed you. I should’ve never left you in the hands of a DeLuca, especially not Nero. That man has more blood on his hands than a certified butcher. You should’ve never been used as leverage for the fuckup me or the boys made. I’m going to write that wrong. I don’t know what Nero did to you while you were with him, but I know I’m going to make it so that he can never do it again.”
I grit my teeth at the insinuation.
He didn’t do anything to me that I hadn’t craved.
Desired.
Needed.
Nero DeLuca gave me a life I had only dreamed of.
Yes, it’s been filled with fancy dresses, fancy shoes, and fancy meals, but more importantly, it’s been filled with nights of passion, evenings of protection, and endless days of love. I’ve never once doubted that he listens when I talk or cares about my goals and ambitions. He’s never once made me feel like some sort of trophy to sit on his shelf versus a confidant he can trust in his times of true need.
He is my fairy tale prince.
He just so happens to be a little more savage than those mentioned in storybooks.
Conjuring up my own theatrical sniffle, I state, “I’ll cooperate.”
Drew snorts in disbelief.
Adam releases a childish “ha” to the others.
My stepfather’s fingertips inch over to the edge of my hood.
“She’s full of shit, Dad,” Drew grumbles, grip on my elbow tightening. “She’s just telling us what we wanna hear.”
“No. Nero had some,” I hesitate for effect, “revolting requirements. Forced me to do things that no woman should ever have to do. I learned to play along to keep from…,” more pretend pain gets pushed into my voice, “getting punished.”
“Knew that sick sonofabitch would beat her,” Drew arrogantly grunts. “Knew all that ‘treat her like a princess’ talk was just bullshit.”
“But what about the house and the car and the clothes,” Adam points out. “Why do all that if he’s abusing her?”
“To keep up public appearances,” their father replies before unveiling my face. “I’m sorry you went through that.” My eyes slowly begin to adjust to his face and his sons at the same time he declares, “But we’re getting that bastard locked away behind bars for life and getting fresh starts for us all.”
I force myself to present him with a grateful grin and words, “Thank you.”
“Let her go, boys,” my stepfather declares. “She’s not gonna try to run.”
There’s hesitation from them both.
“Besides, even if she did, the Marshalls would grab her.”
All of a sudden, a car moves along the narrowed pathway coming straight for us.
Hope doesn’t bother making an unnecessary appearance.
I know it’s not Nero.
He wouldn’t announce himself with headlights or creep in directly behind our vehicle while we’re all standing outside.
My man is smarter than that.
Smoother.
He’ll snatch back what belongs to him without leaving a trail or so much as a trace of his presence for his enemies to follow.
Rather than move towards the tiny A-frame cabin in the distance, we wait for the car to park and the individuals to join us. The sight of two thick-necked men in leather jackets and jeans isn’t unsettling, yet the instant my eyes land on their Marshall badges I feel a knot of trepidation expand in my throat.