Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45819 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I couldn’t endure that loneliness again: the isolation borne of callous indifference from the people who were supposed to love me unconditionally. My family had never given a damn about me. But George had. He’d loved me.
Hadn’t he?
If I’d tried to save her, they would’ve killed me too.
Hot tears spilled down my cheeks, the floodgates opening. Maybe George had loved me once, but not anymore.
He would’ve left me for dead in that basement. He would’ve allowed me to be gunned down right in front of him without a word of protest.
My ring finger burned, as though the gold band was coated in acid. With a soft sob, I yanked the small diamond off my finger and tossed it away.
Massimo’s arms closed around me, and I tucked my face close to his broad chest, breathing him in. He murmured a soothing stream of Italian while he tenderly stroked my hair. I couldn’t understand the words, but the rumbling cadence lulled me into a sense of security. His powerful body enfolded mine, his imposing frame more than strong enough to protect me from harm. I felt small and achingly vulnerable, but I wasn’t afraid. Not of him.
He held me while I cried, completely unruffled. His heartbeat was steady beneath my ear, the regular, deep pulse beating in a hypnotic rhythm. After a while, my breaths slowed to match his, and my own thundering heartbeat regulated. I sniffled, and he brushed the final tear from my damp cheek.
“You need to eat, dolcezza,” he chided, and I suddenly realized that my stomach was aching with hunger.
I hadn’t eaten since dinner last night, before I’d gone to the bar with George’s colleagues. Before the man had tried to roofie me. Before I’d snuck out into the night and overheard George’s traitorous conversation. Before…
“Eat,” Massimo urged, pulling away from me so that I could finally face breakfast.
I took a breath and forced away all the dark memories, crushing my emotions into a tight ball and shoving them deep in my chest. I never allowed myself to fall apart the way I’d just wept in Massimo’s arms. It’d been an awful moment of weakness, and I had to pull myself together.
I’d accepted the painful fact that George was corrupt, but I was far from resigned to my fate. Massimo wouldn’t hurt me, and I had no doubt that he would do anything to protect me—he’d proven that so many times already.
But my dark savior was a criminal, no matter how tenderly he treated me. No matter how his touch set my body on fire. No matter how alluring his sensual lips were, tempting me to another kiss…
I tore my eyes from his handsome face and focused on the food. I had to keep my strength up and my wits about me. I was a captive in a drug lord’s fortress. I would be a fool to give up on my freedom.
One way or another, I would get out of here, even if that meant leaving Massimo behind.
Chapter 17
Evelyn
“If you’re finished, I’ll show you what I ordered for you,” Massimo said when I set down my fork. I hadn’t spoken to him while I’d eaten, too consumed by my own conflicted thoughts about how I would escape. And how exposed I would be if I managed to run from my dark protector.
Somehow, I would get back to America, away from the cartels, away from George. Away from Massimo.
I’d kept my eyes downcast so that he wouldn’t be able to read my thoughts—a skill that disconcerted me. I couldn’t lie to him, so I couldn’t risk him suspecting that I still planned to run at the first opportunity.
But now that he’d spoken to me, my eyes lifted to his. They glittered with anticipation, and his lips curved with a hint of pleasure. Whatever he’d purchased for me, the prospect of giving it to me excited him.
Unease stirred in my gut. In my experience, gifts always came with a price, a debt I couldn’t pay.
I didn’t want to owe Massimo anything.
“Whatever it is, I don’t need it,” I replied, shrugging off his offer.
His gaze trailed over my body in a lazy, indulgent appraisal. I became acutely aware that his thin cotton shirt was all that concealed my nakedness. His attention made warmth bloom beneath the surface of my skin, and my cheeks heated.
“Do you want to go to the party wearing only my shirt?” he rumbled. “Believe me, I wouldn’t mind at all. That way, everyone will know you’re mine.”
His massive body seemed to swell, his powerful muscles flexing with something like pride.
I swallowed down the protest that teased at the tip of my tongue: I wasn’t his.
But the other things he’d said were too important for me to argue over that misconception at the moment.
“What party?” I asked. “I don’t want to meet any of your cartel friends.” The prospect of being surrounded by criminals made a shadow of my fear flutter at the back of my mind. I did my best to ignore it; I couldn’t afford the distraction of further emotional turmoil. Not if I was going to navigate this dangerous situation and somehow get free.