Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
I don't want to be the next item on his agenda. The next project to cross from his to-do list. But I have a feeling that's precisely why I'm here. I'm the tool in whatever harsh lesson he's preparing to teach my family.
I count down to zero and reluctantly push open the bathroom door.
Luca's standing on the other side, reclining against the wall with his eyes closed. He's wearing a shirt this time, all those acres of muscles and olive skin covered. Thank God.
Even relaxed, he's a king among men. This man wasn't made to bow. There's an energy to him, a confidence that only the most powerful Made men possess. It's as if authority hangs in the air around them, stamping them with the cold brand of Omertà.
He cracks one eye open, focusing on me. "You didn't waste any time."
"You said I had three minutes."
He smiles, pushing away from the wall. "So I did. Are you hungry, bella?"
"Callandria."
"Hmm?"
"My name is Callandria, not bella. Not principessa. Callandria," I state firmly.
His smile grows. "Are you hungry, Callandria?"
"No," I lie.
He shakes his head, his smile slipping. "Liar. Be angry with me all you want, but don't starve yourself out of spite. Despite what you think, I do care that you're comfortable here."
"Is that what you tell everyone you chain to your bed?"
"Considering that you're the first person I've ever had chained to the bed, I suppose so." He shrugs, crossing to a table set up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. "Come. Sit. Breakfast will be up in a moment."
I stare after him, full of doubt. "You aren't going to chain me to the table?"
"Didn't plan on it." He glances over his shoulder at me, amusement in his gaze. "Unless you have a thing for the chains, in which case, I might be persuaded to change my mind."
"Ugh," I growl in disgust, stomping across the room to the table. I toss a scornful look his way before throwing myself down into a chair. "Happy now?"
"Never," he says softly.
I glance up, caught off guard by the serious note in his voice, only to find him tapping out a text on his phone. I watch him for a moment, trying to make sense of him. He's two entirely different people, I think, and I don't know which is the real him. The ruthless mob boss who refuses to let me go, or the wanton, almost playful man who lets me get away with talking to him in a way my own father would never permit?
"We're done with the chains."
I blink, caught off guard all over again.
"You'll have free reign of the house," he says, still tapping away on his phone. "The only thing you can't do is leave or contact the outside world."
"Let me guess. All I have to do is agree to sleep with you," I say, venom in my voice.
He looks up from his phone, his arresting gaze settling on me. "No, bella. All you have to do is agree to play by the rules."
"What rules would those be?"
"No going outside, no trying to leave, no trying to contact anyone, and no trying to kill me." He pauses, seemingly considering something. "And you must take care of yourself. No hunger strikes. No endangering yourself. No harming a single hair on your head. That will only piss me off."
"I…" I swallow, the heat in his voice sapping the moisture from my mouth. "Why do you care?" I rasp. "Why am I here? What do you want from me?"
"I want you, Callandria." He settles into the chair across from me, his legs stretched out, one arm resting on his stomach. He's an indolent king at rest, as beautiful as he is dangerous. "As much as I enjoy seeing you in my clothes, I'll have some things delivered for you today."
"Why?"
"I assumed you prefer clothing that fits."
"You know that's not what I meant, Luca."
He nods once and then opens his mouth as if to respond. A knock on the bedroom door silences him. "Come," he growls, flicking his gaze in that direction.
A moment later, the heavy wooden door slides open. An older man with silver hair and age spots pushes a breakfast cart into the room. Laugh lines crinkle the corners of his cinnamon eyes.
His gaze drifts over the chains still attached to the bed as he pushes the cart through the room, but he doesn't comment. He just smiles at me, his expression far warmer than my grandfather's ever was.
"This is Ricardo, bella. Ricardo, Callandria Genovese," Luca says, introducing us. "Ricardo has worked for my family since I was a little boy."
I can't imagine Luca Valentino was ever a little boy. He's far too much man for me to envision it.
"Good morning, Miss Genovese."
"Hi," I mumble, not counting on him to help get me out of here. If he's worked for the Valentino family for that long, he's loyal. Luca could murder me in front of him, and he probably wouldn't bat a lash. My grandfather's longtime staff certainly wouldn't. God only knows the secrets they hold.