Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
My lip curled. “You’re not leaving this room until you tell me who the fuck Tony is and where I can find him.”
Her eyes widened. “It’s not what you think.”
I stepped closer and threw the come-stained dress at her feet and pointed to it. “The fuck it’s not. Another man jizzed on my property.”
The only reason I wasn’t bellowing with rage was I was certain she was still a virgin. Whoever this man was, he had not taken the ultimate intimate step with her. If she had been any other woman, I would not have cared, as I hadn’t with her sister. I would never judge a woman for enjoying the same pleasures as a man.
And yet…
Something primal and dark had reared up inside of me at the thought of being the only man in Ella’s life. I wasn’t ashamed to admit it. I wanted her for my own. I wanted her to be mine and mine alone. As if I were selfishly snatching a unique and precious treasure and raging mine, mine, mine, like that troll from that movie.
Her arm flew up as she slapped me across the face with her open palm. “I’m not an object you can just buy.”
My hand moved to my jaw as I shifted it to the right and left. My girl packed a nice wallop. It was a strange moment to feel proud, but I did. “Wrong. And I have the bank receipt to prove it.”
Dammit. I needed to get back in control. My anger was getting the better of me. She didn’t deserve me saying that. Just the idea that I could lose her to another man, all for being too stupid to realize it was her in my arms each time, not her sister, was untenable to me.
The way I was feeling in this moment, nothing—absolutely nothing — was too extreme for me to hold on to her. Even if I had to chain her to my bed, I would do it if it prevented her from leaving me to go running to that other man.
I needed a second chance with her, like I needed my next breath.
After witnessing firsthand Cesare and Enzo’s struggles to hold on to the women they loved after monumental fuck ups, I was determined not to share the same fate.
Yes, I fucked up.
Yes, I should have realized sooner that the sisters had switched.
Yes, this was going to cause a shitstorm of issues with Dante.
But fuck no. I would not let that stop me from claiming her.
She didn’t belong with them, or that other man.
She belonged with me.
Her gasp cut through my tense thoughts. “Fuck you.”
She threw the door open and tried to run down the hall to the main staircase.
She didn’t get far, especially not wearing her sister’s fuck-me heels.
Chasing after her, I didn’t even break my stride as I wrapped an arm around her waist and lifted her off the floor then marched toward the bedroom I often used when I stayed at the villa.
What happened next would not happen in her bed… but mine.
“Let me go!” she cried out as she clawed at my forearm.
A shout from below reached us.
Uncle Barone called up. “Matteo, is everything okay up there?”
Shifting her weight to my hip, I leaned over the wrought iron banister. “Perfectly fine. Just setting down some rules for my new bride.”
Ella cried out. “No, it’s not! Help! He’s holding me against my will!”
Uncle Barone nodded as he lifted an espresso cup off the saucer he was holding in a mock salute. “Carry on,” he said before moving on to his office.
Ella shook her head and yelled at the ceiling. “I hate you Cavalieris!”
After adjusting my grip, I continued down the hallway as I tossed out, “That’s a shame, since you’re about to become one.”
The moment we crossed the threshold to my suite of rooms, I dropped her onto a tufted ottoman before pivoting to lock the door. After turning the brass key, I removed it from the lock and placed it high on top of the doorframe, out of her reach.
I turned to face her.
Ella was pacing back and forth on the other side of the room, stumbling every few steps.
“Take those fucking boots off before you break your ankle.”
Once more, she yanked on the hem of her sweater dress. “Stop telling me what to do. You’re not my…”
I raised an eyebrow. “Not your what? Boyfriend? Fiancé? Future husband?”
She matched my expression. “As a matter of fact, no, you’re not.”
I inhaled deeply through my nose as I ran my left thumb over the scarred knuckles of my right hand. Despite my work gloves, my dominant hand was stained with machine grease. The black grime making the small spidery scars from years of bare-knuckle fights stand out like small white veins.
Only a monster would touch an innocent woman with dirty hands.