Total pages in book: 100
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
She bites my thumb and I pull away. She’s grinning as she shakes her head. “I don’t think you have enough self-control.”
“Emily,” I say through my teeth.
“Sorry, husband, but you still have to wait.” She slips out of my grasp and pushes open the front door. “Don’t look at my ass when I walk upstairs. It’ll just hurt you.”
I let out a frustrated groan and do exactly that.
And she’s right; it only makes me want her more.
Chapter 21
Emily
My days blend into each other as another two weeks pass. I hang around with Elena and Freddie most afternoons, sometimes working in their gardens, sometimes going out shopping with them. It’s weird, spending huge sums of money on pretty dresses, but Simon never complains and Freddie’s always peer pressuring me into getting more. Sometimes Stefania joins us, but she’s usually busy working with Davide and his various businesses. Apparently, she’s pretty plugged into the organization.
It’s a Tuesday afternoon, about a month into my marriage, when I’m so bored I decide to wander the oasis. The guards are always around, always watching, and I’m not allowed to leave the block without an escort. Which is fine for the most part, though annoying, but today it doesn’t matter. I decide to take a tour of the various guest houses.
They’re beautiful buildings. I don’t know who decorated them, but each one is decked out in designer furniture and expensive-looking art hanging on the walls. Some are themed. There’s an ocean house, a mid-century modern house, and a straight-up Victorian like it’s directly out of a Jane Austen novel.
I’m starting to wonder if I can move into one when I step onto the threshold of the house closest to the oasis entrance and hear someone playing a piano.
It’s a serious surprise. The houses have all been completely empty so far. I look around, wondering if maybe I just barged into someone’s home, but I’m very sure this is one of the places designated for visitors.
I drift toward the music. It’s a haunting tune, moody and sad. I don’t recognize it, but I lean against a wall and close my eyes, letting the sound swirl around me, letting it transport me to some cold, magical kingdom, where all the princesses are ice queens and also very depressed. It’s lovely, and when the song stops, my eyes flutter open and spot a shadow move against the far wall, coming from the room at the end of the first-floor hall.
Another song starts and I get closer. This one’s more like a loose march of chords without any real structure, and I peer around the corner, very curious who’s playing so beautifully.
And find Laura sitting alone on a bench, her back straight, her head swaying slightly, her fingers moving along the keys like they’re dancing.
Then she stops. “You can stop lurking. I know you’re there. You walk like an elephant.”
I open my mouth in shock and look around like maybe she’s talking to someone else. “Shit. I’m so sorry. I was just exploring the guest houses and heard you play and I wanted to hear more.”
She turns around and studies me. Laura is the strangest of the Bianco siblings—she’s young, mid-twenties, with startling hazel eyes and short, dark hair. Her clothes are always simple, usually jeans and a baggy sweater, even when it’s hot out.
My spine tingles, and I get the sudden feeling that she’s wondering if she should stab me in the chest or not.
“You joined our family at a difficult time,” she says, and I’m not even sure how to respond to that. I lean against the doorframe and laugh a little, but she’s not smiling.
“I noticed. Simon thought I’d help, but—” I shrug helplessly. “Looks like he was wrong.”
“You’re helping.” She turns away and starts playing again. This time, it’s very quiet, but it’s the same song as before. “Simon likes you, you know. What did he offer you to get you to marry him?”
I clear my throat, not sure how to respond to those barely connected comments. “Uh, he offered to help my dad. And I don’t think he really likes me. I just think he’s bored.”
“Simon’s never bored.” She cocks her head. “Do you think he’s going to kill my dad?”
I laugh again before realizing she’s not kidding. “Absolutely not. Simon loves your dad.”
She stops playing and stretches her arms. “You know why I don’t hate you?” She turns around before I can respond. “You’re here for a reason. You want something. It’s a deal, and I can understand a deal. You don’t want to screw that up. You have the right incentives.”
“Thanks? I think? I’m not really sure how to respond to that.” I drift over toward her, arms crossed over my chest. “Simon speaks really highly of you, by the way. So does everyone else.”