Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
He’s a psychopath.
What kind of person does this?!
Turning around, I take in the two side walls. Each are filled wall-to-wall with clothes. On one side are men’s clothes. From suits, to collared shirts, to a couple hoodies, with a few pairs of jeans hanging up at the end. On the other side are all women’s clothes. There must be thousands of euros’ worth of clothes in here. Needing to confirm they’re for me, I check out a few of the tags. All my size.
Psycho. Creep. Stalker.
Oh my God. I have got to get away from this man.
Backing up slightly, I bump into a dresser island in the middle of the room—yes, his closet is the size of a freaking room. It has several drawers, and on the end there’s a bench where you can sit to put on your shoes.
With a deep breath, I try to steady my nerves and calm myself. I grab an off the shoulder sweater and a pair of shorts and quickly change into them, needing to get out of here. Out of this closet. Out of this room. Out of this fucking house.
Since I have some time before dinner, I leave the villa, desperate for fresh air and to clear my head, but as the door closes behind me, I realize I don’t have a key. “Shit!” I try to turn the handle, but it’s locked. Unlike the room I stayed in last night, Kostas’s door has a number pad on it, and I don’t know the code. Nor do I know his phone number. “Just great.” I groan.
“Locked out?” a masculine voice asks. Unlike Kostas’s dark, cold tone, this voice is melodic and playful. Aris. I turn around and find him leaning against the wall, in a pair of board shorts and boat shoes, with his leg propped up, and his arms crossed over his shirtless chest.
“Do you know the code?” I ask, nodding toward the offending panel.
Aris laughs, light and throaty. I haven’t heard Kostas laugh yet, but I imagine it would sound the complete opposite. I don’t really know either of them, but from what I’ve seen, they seem to be polar opposites.
“It’s not funny,” I snap. “Your brother told me to be ready at five thirty. The last thing I need is him…punishing me.” I mumble the last two words.
“Ahh…” Aris grins. “So, you’ve already had a chance to get to know my brother.”
“If you call watching him torture a man with his own limb that he cut off using a knife, getting to know him, then sure, I know him real well,” I smart. My words come out harsh and sarcastic, but my voice cracks at the end, giving away how overwhelmed and scared I am.
Aris steps off the wall and stalks toward me. “Come here.” His voice, so sweet and soft, is my breaking point. A single tear squeezes past my flimsy barrier and rolls down my cheek. Aris, not missing a beat, swipes his thumb across my flesh and catches it. And then another falls, and another. And the next thing I know, I’m in Aris’s arms, crying onto his shoulder.
“Shh,” he coos. “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”
I don’t know how, but without even asking him, I know Aris is nothing like his brother. They both might work for their father, but Aris isn’t stone cold like Kostas. He’s different. Softer.
“How can you say that?” I murmur. “I’m being forced to marry a man who made me watch him take another man’s life to show me what he’s capable of. How can anything ever be all right?”
It can’t.
It won’t.
“What can I do?” he asks, but before I can answer, someone else answers for me.
“You can get your fucking hands off my fiancée for starters.”
Kostas
Aris meets my glare over Talia’s blond head with a maddening smirk that used to get his ass beat when we were kids. I swear he lives to taunt me. Wisely, he drops his arms.
Talia jerks away from him and crosses her arms over her chest. My gaze flits to her smooth, sexy shoulder that’s exposed. Golden like honey. I bet it tastes sweet too.
“I don’t know the code to get back in,” she mutters, not meeting my gaze.
“You were supposed to stay put,” I say, stepping closer.
“What is the code?” Aris implores just to fuck with me. He sure as hell isn’t welcome in my villa.
Shaking my head at him, I bite out my words. “Don’t you have some errands to run for Daddy?”
All humor is wiped off his fucking face. If anyone has daddy issues, it’s my brother. It boils his blood that he’s a glorified errand boy and I’m the heir to the Demetriou kingdom. Instead of losing his cool like I wish he would, he straightens his spine and shoots me a nasty glare.