Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54092 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 270(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
A shiver works its way through me. He means every word.
"Yes, sir," eleven voices say at once. The twelfth mouths the words, but I don’t think he actually speaks them. His eyes are locked on me, something…malevolent in them. He's maybe twenty-five, with a scar across his temple and a wildness about him. There's something familiar about him, but I can't place what. Whoever he is, he's dangerous. I feel that truth bubbling in my stomach.
I instinctively take a step closer to Rafael, cowering into him. He lets go of my hand to wrap his around my hip. His frosty gaze skims over his men, his intent clear. He's declaring ownership, stamping me with his seal of possession. He isn't trying to protect me. He wants them to think I belong to him.
I bristle silently, swallowing back the urge to tell him here and now that I belong to no man. I don't. I never have. When you're curvy like me, men look right through you. Or, worse, they see you and mock you. They don't jump to date you. They certainly don't claim you because they want you. Whatever game he's playing, it has nothing to do with me.
His men are still watching us, the dangerous one smiling like he finds something amusing about this whole situation. So I lean into Rafael instead, playing his little game with him. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it. He simply squeezes my hip and then turns his face slightly so his lips brush my crown.
"Bienvenida a casa, mi reinita."
Welcome home, my little queen.
The gates of hell creak open.
"Come," he says a moment later. "Luca, wait here."
Luca's soft laugh floating from the SUV is the only response he gets, and then he's leading me up the steps. Two men fall into step behind us.
"Tesoro, this is Coda and Domani. They'll be your guards," Rafael says.
"You pronounced jailers wrong," I say as sweetly as possible.
He cuts his eyes in my direction. "No. I said guards correctly, tigrotta."
I snort.
"They'll protect you with their lives."
"From you?"
"You don't need protection from me."
I snort again, and then stop walking to glance around. His house is beautiful, but cold. Like a mausoleum. There's no warmth here, no life. Everything is neatly arranged, not a speck of dust in sight, not a single item out of place. The porcelain floors shine. Expensive furniture gleams with polish. There are no family photos on the walls, no trinkets on the tables. Everything is just…cold.
"You grew up here?" I ask.
"Yes." He leads me to the stairs, his guards following behind us.
"How old were you when your mom was murdered?"
"How do you know she was murdered?"
Because my father killed her.
"Everyone knows," I lie, not stupid enough to spill that secret.
"Eleven."
My heart pulses with sympathy. No wonder he is the way he is. He was just a little boy, forced to grow up in a place like this. I've been here less than five minutes, and the chill is already seeping its way into my soul. He's been here for decades.
Don't you dare feel sorry for him, Amalia, I snap to myself. Don't soften. He'll eat you alive.
"I'm not your possession," I say, forcing myself to focus on that. "And this isn't my home."
"It is now, tigrotta."
"I'm out of here as soon as I find a way," I warn him.
He gives me another smile, though it doesn't reflect in his eyes. Nothing but the devil lurks there, as if he's daring me to try it. Why do I get the impression that he wants me to try to run? "Try it, tesoro. You won't make it through the fucking door before I drag you back."
I briefly contemplate pushing him down the stairs, if for no other reason than watching him bounce down them would bring me immense satisfaction. But the thought only lasts a second before I discard it. Unlike him, I'm not a violent person. I don't hurt people, not even those with hellfire burning where their souls are supposed to be. Besides, pushing him down the stairs isn't going to get me any closer to my goal. If anything, it'll just seal my fate that much quicker.
Instead of saying anything, I elbow him in the ribs and then storm up the stairs. He laughs quietly behind me. Within two steps, he's at my side again, his hand on my elbow. He guides me down the hall to the left, and then down another hallway to the right. We twist and turn down hallways each more lavishly appointed than the last. And yet none of them are homey or warm in any way.
"How many ghosts haunt this place?" I mutter, only partially kidding.
"Too many," he says, steering me toward the end of the hall.
"Coda and Domani aren't coming?" I peer over my shoulder. They're at the end of the hall, their backs to us.