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)
It's hard to grieve what you loathe. But I think I feel sadness anyway.
"Porca troia," the angry man, Luca Valentino, growls. "Fine. I'll deal with her. But I'm doing it my way."
Deal with me? His way? Do I even want to know what his way is?
No, I quickly decide. No, I don't.
Luca may not be as infamous as his notorious brother, but he's still mafioso. He's still a Valentino. And my grandfather may have been a monster, but I figure it takes one to know one, right? He hates—hated the Valentino family. My whole life, I've heard about the things they've done. The people they've killed. The crimes they've committed.
Rafe may lead the family, but Luca's behind every business deal they've ever made. He's just as ruthless as his brother. When Rafe wants something, Luca makes sure nothing stands in his way.
Dio. I have to get out of here.
I take a breath, trying to calm the way my heart pounds with anxiety. I quickly examine the chains, giving them an experimental tug. The hook over the bed doesn't even budge. It's tightly anchored. But there's enough chain for me to stand up from the bed if I'm careful about it.
Rolling carefully to my side, I wiggle my way to my feet. My head swims. Mattia definitely drugged me. If I ever get my hands on him….
Ugh! I want to punch him in the throat, though I doubt it'd do me any good. You'd think someone would have taught me self-defense, given the life I was born into, but I guess that was too much to ask.
I was just supposed to trust that my bodyguards would protect me. No one ever considered what would happen if they died. No one ever planned for the day my grandfather pulled everyone from their stations for his big move and failed to tell me I was unprotected. No one prepared me for the day I was captured. I don't think my grandfather even considered it a possibility. He was so convinced he'd win that he didn't consider what would happen to anyone else if he lost. I'm not sure he cared enough about me to think about it.
I was a paycheck and an alliance to him, nothing more. He had no affection for me. He protected me because it was expected of him. Because to do anything less would have been to show weakness. One thing Tommaso Genovese was not was weak.
"Domani and I will go fill him in," Mattia says outside the door. "He'll be able to deny involvement without violating the oath."
Dio. I have to get out of here right now.
I test the limits of my restraints, wobbling on my feet. I thought I was trapped like a rat in my bedroom, but I might as well be in a snake's enclosure here. I can't run or hide. I can barely move more than a couple of feet.
Aside from the nightstand, there's nothing within reach. I stretch to open the drawer of the nightstand, cursing under my breath when I come up empty-handed. There's nothing at all in it.
I reach for the lamp, trying not to sob when I realize it's built into the nightstand.
The bulb.
I stretch forward as far as I can, grasping for the top of the lamp. The only way I can reach is to lift my left arm high over my head to give a little slack on the chain on the right arm.
I work quickly to unscrew the bulb, biting my tongue to keep from sobbing in frustration.
The bulb comes loose in my hand.
"What, precisely, are you planning to do with that, Miss Genovese?" Luca Valentino asks from behind me, his gritty voice soft.
The bulb slips from my hand. I watch in horror as it plummets to the hardwood at my feet…and rolls out of reach.
The frustrated sob I've been holding back escapes before I can stop it. Defeat crashes through me like a tidal wave, a tangle of emotions following in its wake.
I spin on Luca, terrified, confused, and angry.
My breath stalls in my throat at the sight of him. I knew he was beautiful—all the Valentino brothers are devilishly handsome—but I'd never seen him in person before. I've only ever seen him on the news. Perhaps that's why his voice is so familiar to me. His dark hair sweeps back from his forehead, tousled as if he's run his fingers through it. Dark brows slash above arresting, deceptively kind dark eyes. The amused smirk on his full lips infuriates me.
His tie hangs loose around his neck, the first two buttons of his dress shirt undone. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, showing the thick, corded muscles of his forearms. Even disheveled, he's formidable, a king among men.
And I'm chained to his bed in my nightgown and a robe, completely helpless.