Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
“She’s your daughter, Eloisa,” Henry said. “Your daughter.”
She lifted her chin, her eyes going hard. “I have a duty to do what’s right.” She pointed to Valentino, and her hand shook. “She cannot marry this man and have children with him. You know that. She knows it, but she’s always been willful. She cares nothing for duty. She’s selfish. Stefano is too weak to do what’s expected of him.”
“Stefano is the head of the riders, not you, Eloisa,” Henry said softly. “He makes all decisions.”
“Henry,” she hissed. “Stop. We aren’t alone.”
“Only an Archambault can do what you contracted outside the riders to do. They are the only family that can make the decision to put another rider to death. You know that. What you’ve done is punishable by death. What were you thinking?”
She shook her head. “No. I did the only thing possible. There was no time. I have to stop her before she can hurt the riders any more than she already has.”
Valentino reached out and took the report from Henry’s shaking hands. He had noted immediately that Eloisa had said have to stop her. She didn’t intend to ever stop, not that it would have mattered to him. This woman had paid money to have someone kill Emmanuelle. There would never be forgiveness in him. It didn’t matter to him who she was. Dario had advised caution. Dario had even said he would take care of it for him, just in case Emme ever asked him directly. In case she ever became suspicious.
Val was unapologetic about who he was. Emmanuelle had married him knowing she would always have his full protection. She might not like it, and might not always agree, but no way would someone get away with blatantly putting a hit out on his wife. He didn’t give a damn who it was. In fact, it was far worse that it was her own mother.
He sat back in his chair and, with cold, merciless eyes, regarded the woman who had given birth to his wife. “I don’t understand how someone like you could have actually had a hand in the genetic makeup of someone as beautiful and incredible as Emmanuelle. She’s an angel, and you—you’re something that crawled up from hell. I understand that, Eloisa, I do. I think I originated from there myself. The difference between us is this. I recognize when someone is good and I protect them. You, apparently, don’t care. You have no moral code. How that happened when you’re a fucking Ferraro, I don’t know.”
“Valentino,” Henry said softly. “I’ll take her to Europe. We’ll go away from here.” There was a plea in his voice.
Val didn’t have enough compassion in him to understand how Henry could want to be with a woman like Eloisa.
“You and I both know that will never stop her. She’s fanatical. And she’s been obsessive and abusive toward Emme since the day she was born. Only Eloisa knows why.”
Eloisa’s features contorted into a mask of hatred. “The first time my parents ever came to see her, my mother actually picked her up. She never held a baby in her life. Not one time, and she had several children and grandchildren. But she held Emmanuelle. The princess. So beautiful. So perfect. Everyone thinks she’s so perfect. Even now, when she’s betrayed her family. Betrayed her heritage. The great trust she was given. She still is considered perfect. Something has to be done.”
“Eloisa, stop talking,” Henry pleaded. “You don’t know what you’re saying or doing.”
Eloisa stood up, hands on her hips as she glared down at Valentino. “You don’t scare me. You never have. Try and come after me. She can’t protect you any more than you can protect her.” She spun around and stomped off.
Henry closed his eyes and shook his head before he pushed himself heavily out of his chair. “She never had a chance at life, Val.”
“I’m sorry. I only care about Emmanuelle, Henry.” Valentino told him the truth.
Henry nodded and followed Eloisa to their car. Valentino remained sitting in his chair. It took a few minutes and then Stefano and Elie Archambault appeared out of the shadows and sank into the chairs next to him.
“I didn’t think she would admit it,” Stefano said. “She just came right out and told you she put out a hit on her own daughter. She made no apologies for it.”
“And she wouldn’t stop,” Elie added. “Stefano, it has to be that her brain has been affected by the lesions. She isn’t thinking right.”
Valentino flicked a quick glance in Archambault’s direction. If either of them thought for one moment Eloisa was going to live through this, they were sadly mistaken. No one put out a hit on his wife and got away with it. He said nothing. There was no reason to.