Natasha Knight – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read

Natasha Knight – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:43 +0000 en-US hourly 1 https://wordpress.org/?v=6.9.4 http://www.books2020.com/wp-content/uploads/2020/09/favicon.png Natasha Knight – Read Books Online Free Ebooks good best novels to read http://www.books2020.com 32 32 The Pawn (War of Hearts #2) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/the-pawn-war-of-hearts-2-read-online-natasha-knight Wed, 19 Nov 2025 18:27:43 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-pawn-war-of-hearts-2-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Forbidden, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: War of Hearts Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)

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I rule a kingdom built on blood.

Brutality is my legacy.

The moment I saw Allegra Moretti, I knew I had to have her.

The night I planned to make her my wife, my enemies attacked.

They took her from me.

They did not know the monster they unleashed.

I burned the world down to bring her home.

Now, I’ll go to war for her.

I will tear our families apart and I will deliver her enemies to her in pieces.

Allegra is my queen and I will destroy any man who dares hurt her

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

ALLEGRA

The smell of red wine makes me sick. I have a visceral reaction to the scent and it’s something I’ve had to work to get under control. I’ve been able to do it for the most part. The sound of a piano playing, though? That will always trigger a memory in me. Always leave me with a feeling of dread, no matter how pretty the music.

Too much bitter for any sweet.

This feeling is worse. Because the worst is yet to come.

That dread is like a disease, a cancer spreading black in your insides, pushing everything else out. Leaving no room for anything but it.

Someone’s playing now. An old tune, one I know well, with a constant, repeating melody.

A dark tune.

It’s starts up again. Back at the beginning.

My heart hurts to hear it.

Fingers on a keyboard taking me back to where it began.

To where it all ended so horrifically.

My chest constricts. It’s hard to breathe. Consciousness creeps back in salt tears burning my face. How long have I been crying?

There’s a part of me straining to hear because before I open my eyes, before I return fully to consciousness, that part of me thinks she might still be here. Thinks I can have her back as ridiculous as the idea is. As impossible.

My lip trembles. My throat constricts when I swallow.

Hope for the hopeless. It’s absurd.

I can’t listen. It’s too much. I need to block out the sound. To plug my ears until it stops.

And it does stop. Suddenly and completely. It stops and, in the wake of its silence, I hold my breath, and I count my heartbeats. It’ll start again. I know it will. It’s been going on for a while. Is it a recording? No. It might be easier if it were, but whoever is playing has missed notes. Made mistakes she’d never have made.

When I inhale, I register something else. Dust. No, not dust. Ash. Ash from a fire. And the coppery taste of blood in my mouth.

The music starts again.

I lick my lips. The pianist makes another mistake. Mutters a curse. Corrects. Dread spreads like tar from my center outward, my belly full of it, my heartbeats turning to heavy, slow thuds.

I should open my eyes, but not yet. Not yet. I roll onto my side away from the sound. It’s useless. Like a child pulling the blankets up over her head to save herself from monsters.

Just because you can’t see the monsters, doesn’t mean they’re not there.

Who said that? My father? Or my mother? Cassian? I can’t remember.

The tips of my fingers scrape along a cold, dirty floor. Outside, rain is falling. I hear it. Smell it.

“Ah.” Someone says. A man.

I can’t put it off any longer. Time to face the music.

I open my eyes. It takes a minute before they adjust. It’s dark, but not so dark I can’t see. Not so dark I don’t know where I am. My brain won’t allow me to register the fact though. Not yet. Because that dread, it’s not just the piano. It’s this place. It’s this house of horrors.

The music stops abruptly. The piano bench scrapes what was once gleaming gold-veined marble. So pretty, like a palace. I remember thinking that. A palace for a princess.

Footsteps echo. I stare at the wall burnt black. The steps are coming toward me. I need to get up. To face him.

Just because you can’t see the monsters doesn’t mean they’re not there.

I can’t defend myself by pretending he’s not here. Rolling onto my back, I try to sit up, to move. My head aches. I recall how he slapped me twice before smashing my head against the SUV’s window.

My brother’s face the moment before the bullet struck flashes before my eyes. My brother’s grinning, then stunned expression. Or maybe I’m making that part up. He didn’t see it coming. I don’t think he registered what was happening to be stunned before warm blood splattered across my face and he fell over.

But closing my eyes makes it worse and when I open them, there’s a shadow over me. A face peering down at me. Looming above me.

Malek.

Malek, my father’s one time consigliere. The puppet master who played my brother like the fool he was.

Malek the traitor. The killer.

He wasn’t supposed to be the violent one.

He studies me, tilting his head. He clears his throat and his Adam’s apple bobs when he swallows.

I say my brother’s name, my voice a croak, a broken whisper. “Michael.” He killed him. He shot Michael before my eyes.

Malek smiles. “Gone. No need to thank me.”

I force myself to move, to get up. My head is a leaden weight, my neck not strong enough to carry it and it hurts when I finally manage to sit. I’m dizzy and lean my back against the chaise. What’s left of it, what the fire didn’t devour. I look up at him.

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Advertisement The Villain (War of Hearts #1) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/the-villain-war-of-hearts-1-read-online-natasha-knight Wed, 29 Oct 2025 22:17:09 +0000 http://www.books2020.com/the-villain-war-of-hearts-1-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Biker, Erotic, Mafia, MC Authors: Natasha Knight Series: War of Hearts Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 84763 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 424(@200wpm)___ 339(@250wpm)___ 283(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >88

My life changed the moment I saw Cassian Trevino standing in the shadows of my father’s study.

A ruthless villain in a suit, he’s the head of a rival mafia family.

I should have been safe.

Instead, I was trapped by the man my brother betrayed.

Cassian came for blood.

But he took me instead.

Now I’m his possession.

His obsession.

He demands my surrender. He wants my body, my heart and soul.

And the most dangerous part? My heart has already betrayed me.

But the truce between our families is fracturing. We stand on the brink of a mafia war.

Loving my enemy isn’t only forbidden. It could be the deadliest betrayal of all.

Author's This is a dark mafia romance. NO cheating. Check TW on my website

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

ALLEGRA

“Just keep a smile on that pretty face of yours and it’ll be over before you know it.”

My brother pats my cheek, but I think what he’d really like to do is slap it if he could. If two hundred of our relatives, including members of the inner circle and business associates, weren’t clustered in our living room, drinks in hand, watching us, some openly, some from the corners of their eyes.

Watching and waiting for a crack to show, a weakness to exploit.

“It hasn’t even been six months since his death, Michael. It’s not right.”

The family trusted our father to lead them. I’m not sure my brother realizes they don’t exactly look at him with the same respect.

Michael turns to nod a greeting to one of the guests, his lips moving into what on the outside looks like a warm smile as he sips his whiskey.

“The contract’s been delayed long enough. And besides, right won’t keep us fed, will it? Won’t keep this roof over our heads. It certainly won’t put us back at the top of the food chain.”

That last part he says under his breath. He scans the crowd before turning to me once more and I see his true face. The one beneath the mask.

“Besides, it’s my birthday, sis. Consider this my birthday gift, you actually doing what you’re told for once. I’m head of this family now and I’m working my ass off to fix the mess our father left behind. Hell, he should have married you off the day you turned eighteen, but you always did have him wrapped around your little finger, didn’t you?”

“He wouldn’t make me do something I didn’t want to do.”

“Bullshit,” he says with a snort. “Don’t make a saint of him. He wasn’t one, Allegra. You of all people should know that.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He grits his teeth and narrows his eyes, and I get the feeling it’s taking all he has to hold back.

“You really need to ask?” Michael taunts. He wraps his hand around mine, weaving our fingers together and giving a little squeeze. To all those watching, I’m sure it looks like a comforting gesture, big brother taking care of his younger sister. It’s not, though, and I wince when his fingernail presses into the nub where the pinkie finger of my left hand used to be. “Speaking of little fingers, tuck this hand into your pocket. We don’t need to parade that around, do we?”

When he releases my hand, I push it into my pocket.

With a jerk of his chin, he gestures to two men standing across the room, William and Richard Moore. Governor Richard Moore. Father and son. I wonder if they feel out of place considering the rest of the guest list.

Over the years, Dad had many meetings with the Moores. Richard and I were officially introduced on my eighteenth birthday with the understanding that after my college graduation, we’d be married and our families would be aligned.

“I’m not sure why you’re whining anyway. He’s not completely hideous and his wallet is thick,” Michael says.

I clench my jaw to bite back my words as he finishes his drink and sets the glass aside before adjusting the butterfly mask covering the top half of my face. He mutters his disappointment at my lack of costume. It is Halloween, after all.

“And don’t think I won’t punish you for this,” he says.

One look in his hard eyes and I have no doubt he will.

Someone calls his name and after giving me one more pointed look, he finally moves on.

Taking a flute of champagne from one of the serving staff hired with money we don’t have, I ignore my fiancé to be and sip from my glass. My gaze moves around the room. I recognize many of the faces behind the masks, family members and business associates of my father’s. Malek Lombardi, my father’s consigliere, now my brother’s, is among them. He catches my eye over the shoulder of the woman he’s talking to. His mask is pushed to the top of his head. He’s barely bothered with a costume himself. He gives a quick wink that makes my skin crawl. It’s to let me know he’s watched the whole interaction. He’s always watching. Even when Dad was alive, Malek was always on the sidelines, never missing a thing. The only difference is he’s less on the sidelines now.

I turn my back to him and swallow the remainder of my champagne, the bubbles tickling my throat. In my periphery I see Richard Moore begin to approach. I guess he’s finished waiting. I need to get out of here. I set my empty glass on a side table and head in the opposite direction, weaving through the crowd and down the hallway that will lead to my father’s study.

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Advertisement By Blood to Avenge (Sinners Duet #2) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/by-blood-to-avenge-sinners-duet-2-read-online-natasha-knight Mon, 21 Oct 2024 11:28:01 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/by-blood-to-avenge-sinners-duet-2-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Mafia Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Sinners Duet Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 69909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 350(@200wpm)___ 280(@250wpm)___ 233(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >72

I claimed her, but I never intended on falling for her.

I see the scars Blue hides. The secrets she keeps. I want to collect all the broken pieces of her.

Her enemies are closing in faster than she can run.

When she's taken from me, I hunt down her abductor and give in to my rage.

I spill blood for her. I’d do it again.

But the game turns deadly when some of the most powerful men of The Society attack.

I won’t let them touch her though.

I won’t fail Blue like I failed my sister, even if she will be my undoing.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

BLUE

“Looks like we’ll get that chance to be together after all. And I owe you, you little bitch.”

No.

It can’t be him. I saw him at the compound. Did he get out before we did, while Isabelle and I were in the bathroom? It’s not possible. He was guarding the Councilors. He couldn’t just leave, could he?

The car swerves and I’m thrown backward then propelled in the opposite direction. I slam against the trunk wall, the blow to my head making my ears ring, making stars dance before my eyes. It takes all I have to keep them open.

Now isn’t the time to puzzle this out. To try to make sense of how he got to me. I need to think. I need to keep my eyes open and not pass out. I need to find an escape.

I take mental inventory. My body aches. I was out of my seatbelt when the car collided with ours. Was it him? What was his name? Wyatt Hoxton? Was it him who hit us? Had he recognized me and followed us out?

Where was Zeke? Jericho went back to get him. We should have been safe with Dex.

I’m not sure if my eyes are open or closed. It’s pitch black in the trunk. He’s moving at a fast speed and when he takes a turn, I go rolling again, this time my face colliding with something hard. I black out. I only know because when I manage to open my eyes again, the car is slowing to a stop. I hear a beep, and then we’re moving again.

Gravel crunches under the tires. How long have we been driving? How long have I been passed out? After what feels like an eternity, the car comes to a stop and the driver kills the engine. I’m wide awake now, my heart racing. The car door opens, slams shut. I smell cigarette smoke. I feel around myself for a weapon, something to have ready when he pops the trunk open. But there’s nothing. I reach for a shoe. Those heels have to be good for something. I can stab him in the eye, disorient him and run. One of my feet is bare. I must have lost a shoe somewhere. But the other one is still on, and I pull it off, grip it in my hand.

I hear the popping sound of the trunk. My heart races as light appears in a thin line, then widens as he opens the trunk. I see Wyatt Hoxton’s face. His leering grin. It sends a familiar chill through me, because that I remember, but it’s worse now with those scars that run from the corners of his mouth to his ears making an eerie, inhuman grin.

He reaches in and I smell the cigarette he just smoked. Before he grabs hold of me, I draw my arm back and swing, aiming the heel of my shoe at his eye. He’s surprised, clearly, but he’s fast. And fuck he’s strong. He catches my wrist and slams it against the side of the car. I cry out with the pain as the shoe goes flying from my hand.

“I should stab you in the eye, you little bitch,” he says, both hands on me now as he hauls me out.

“No!” I scratch at him, my fingernails claws.

He shakes me so hard my brain rattles against my skull. “You want rough, little girl? You’ll get rough. Don’t push me.”

I fight him, managing to drag my nails down the side of his face. He stops and the sound he makes more animal than human. I realize my mistake when he grips my hair in his giant fist and drags me out by my hair, throwing me onto the gravel drive. I land on all fours, stones digging into my palms and knees. I look back, see the blood on his cheek. I try to crawl away, but he reaches me and with a swift kick to my stomach, sends me down.

He crouches as I hug my arms around my middle.

“I said don’t fucking push me.”

He once again grips my hair and I scream for help when he hauls me up by it. I can barely straighten as he shoves me forward, dropping me with such force the wind is knocked out of me when I hit the driveway. Tiny, sharp stones cut into every inch of exposed skin, tearing my dress, my flesh, before I’m pulled up again.

“Help me! Someone help!” I cry but he just laughs. He doesn’t attempt to shut me up.

“There’s no one to hear you,” he says and as if to prove it, he makes a sweeping gesture with his arm and he’s not lying. It’s dark, pitch black and all around us is nothing. Absolutely nothing.

A phone rings, startlingly out of place. It’s coming from his pocket. His face darkens. Holding on to me with one hand, he pulls it out, mutters a curse then silences it before returning his full attention to me. He marches me toward a decrepit looking house, the only structure for as far as I can see.

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Advertisement By Sin to Atone (Sinners Duet #1) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/by-sin-to-atone-sinners-duet-1-read-online-natasha-knight Sat, 05 Oct 2024 02:31:43 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/by-sin-to-atone-sinners-duet-1-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Dark, Erotic, Mafia Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Sinners Duet Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71616 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 286(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >75

A steamy, Forced Proximity Secret Society Romance by Bestselling Author Natasha Knight.

I crossed him. Now he owns me.

When I tried to blackmail Ezekiel St. James, I thought it would be easy.

Turns out I had no idea who I was dealing with.

The moment his steel-grey eyes locked on mine, I knew the game was over.

He knew exactly who I was. What I’d done.

And he wasn’t going to let me walk away.

With his immense wealth and power, he had me kidnapped.

He could make me disappear.

I’m no easy prey, though, and it’s not just my life on the line. I have to protect my sister.

But when I’m hurt, he does the unexpected. He takes care of me.

In some twisted way, he sees his atonement in me.

Desperate and vulnerable, I need protection.

He offers his, but his terms are as grey as his morals. I’ll be his in every way.

I accept knowing full well the risk. Because when he touches me, my skin catches fire.

And there’s something inside me that wants to belong to him.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Ezekiel

I know what you did.

Ice clinks against the crystal tumbler. I lift it to my mouth and sip the whiskey but don’t quite taste it. Don’t quite feel the numbing effects of it.

I read the text message for the hundredth time, tempted to reply, angrily staring at my screen as if it will give me an answer. A name. A fucking face.

I know what you did.

That’s it. Five words accompanied by a newspaper article about the accidental death of my father and his mistress.

Mother. Fucker.

“Mr. St. James?” a woman’s soft, slightly accented voice interrupts.

I shift my gaze up to the server who clears her throat, a blush already creeping along the pale skin of her neck.

Nora.

I check my expression, force a smile.

“Yes, Nora?”

“The gentleman you were expecting is here to see you, sir.”

I glance at my wristwatch and nod to her. That pink hue blooms, coloring her cheeks. She’s sweet. Young. Pretty. Very pretty. And far too inexperienced for her own good. There’s a part of me that knows I should warn her. Tell her to stay away from the men who frequent this club. Men like me. But I’m too selfish for that. And nowhere near good enough to do it.

“Show him to my table.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And make sure we’re not interrupted, will you?”

“Yes, sir.” She turns to go, hesitates.

“What is it, Nora?” I ask, trying to keep the impatience from my tone.

“Um. I was wondering if you’d perhaps need me later?” she asks, a note of optimism in her voice even as she swallows the last part.

That pink deepens to crimson. She’s embarrassed.

“You’re sweet to ask, but no. Not tonight,” I say.

She blinks, looks every which way but at me. “Oh. I…” She finally clears her throat and is able to meet my gaze once more. “I’m sorry, I just⁠—”

“Let’s not keep my guest waiting, Nora. You know how I feel about being made to wait.”

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” She nearly trips in her rush to get to the door. I don’t even watch her go. I look at my phone instead. At that fucking message that has stolen the little joy I have these days. But when I hear the overly exaggerated twang that can only belong to Robbie Shetland, I tuck the phone into my pocket and watch him enter, charming Nora. He towers over her with his big cowboy boots, the signature fur coat he inherited from his granddaddy, as he likes to tell the story, the black hat still on his head. He catches my eye but there’s no break in his monologue.

The other patrons turn to take in the large, loud American who clearly doesn’t belong. Eden 9.5 is a high-end bar known for its many shadowy corners. It’s tucked in an out-of-the-way alley in Amsterdam’s Red Light District. Hidden in plain sight, it doesn’t draw the multitude of tourists who frequent the district.

Robbie tips his hat to someone whose eye he catches, and I study the way he makes himself appear so casually unaware. So fucking clueless and not at all like the man he is. In reality, I am sure he’s cataloged all the faces in this room already. He has that kind of memory. I’m certain he will know all their names by tomorrow morning.

I stand, adjust a shirtsleeve. The polished Montblanc cufflink gleams when it catches the light.

“Robbie,” I say, stepping around the small table. I extend my hand in greeting. “Pleasure to see you again.”

He shakes my hand. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he says, then turns to Nora. “Truly. All the pleasure is mine.” He bends to kiss the inside of her wrist and I almost roll my eyes.

“Nora if you’ll take Mr. Shetland’s coat and hat?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” she says as Robbie slips his coat off and hands both it and his hat to her.

“You take good care of that, sweetheart,” he says with a wink.

“I will, sir. Can I bring you anything else?” she asks, but there’s a bottle of whiskey and a second tumbler already waiting on the table.

“Looks like I’ve got everything I need.”

Nora nods, turns and walks away.

Robbie watches her go. “Sweet little piece.”

“Inexperienced,” I tell him.

“Lucky for her, I’m a very patient teacher.” He settles into the chair across from mine.

I take my seat. “Remind me again why you make such a spectacle of yourself,” I say, pouring Robbie a whiskey before picking up my glass and leaning back in the deep, comfortable leather chair.

He glances around the room. Most of the patrons have resumed their conversations although a few still glance his way. He smiles, says a howdy to one, gaze steady. The man who was looking down his nose at Robbie clears his throat and turns away.

“Don’t know what you mean. I’m just a loud American tourist,” he says to me, sipping his drink.

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Advertisement The Villains We Make (Heroes and Villains Duet #2) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/the-villains-we-make-heroes-and-villains-duet-2-read-online-natasha-knight Sat, 11 May 2024 14:57:47 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-villains-we-make-heroes-and-villains-duet-2-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Heroes and Villains Duet Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75793 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 379(@200wpm)___ 303(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

You can’t marry him if you’re already married to me.

That was how Silas Cruz proposed to me—more like demanded, really. He didn’t exactly give me a choice.

He’s dark, jealous and incredibly possessive.

And he’s just one of the villains in my story.

I used to think he was my hero.

Still, there’s one thing I know for sure. Whenever I need him, whenever I’m in danger, he comes for me. He’s proven that time and time again.

Now, the game has changed, the stakes life and death.

But loving Silas may be the most dangerous thing for me. Because he’s the man who holds my heart in the palm of his hand.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

OPHELIA

Pain.

It’s the only word I know, the only conscious thought.

I hear sounds around me, and a voice I recognize. I’m not sure he’s talking to me, though. I’m not sure anyone is talking to me. The woman, maybe? Hers is the voice that soothes, that doesn’t terrify me.

“Why isn’t she waking up?”

It’s Silas. He’s angry. Furious.

The woman says something in Spanish. Between basic Spanish at school and time spent with Esmerelda when both Dad and Tonia were away, I can understand a little bit, but not this. It’s too fast.

My mind wanders to Esmerelda. She’s gone now.

A man’s face hovers over me. It’s blurry, like I’m looking through dirty glass, a lake frozen over. I reach up, but my fingertips only brush ice. I’m trapped beneath that ice.

“Give her some space,” a man whose voice I don’t recognize says. It sounds gentle, though. Then I hear Silas again, but he sounds farther away.

“Look at this,” the woman says, cool fingers at my throat.

“What is it?” Silas asks.

“A needle, perhaps. Whoever injected it was careless.”

“She’s safe here. Come with me, Silas.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“We need to get supplies.”

“I will take good care of her. Please,” the woman says in a coaxing tone.

I hear Silas groan before I fade away. My mind is a collage of blurred images and words all meshing together until I can’t tell what is past, what is present. What is real and what is a dream.

A nightmare.

I’m in that car with Ethan and the stranger. What was his name? Chandler. Chandler Carlisle-Bent.

Who was he? I wrack my brain, my memory foggy.

My uncle. He’s my uncle.

I have an uncle and a grandfather. They’re both living. Searching for me. Ethan said…

Ethan.

Pain.

The woman’s soothing voice is there again, blanketing me. “Shh. It’s just a dream. You’re safe.”

What had he said? What did he tell me?

Daughter of Oil Tycoon Kidnapped.

I don’t understand the words.

He’s here again, the face hovering over me, those turquoise eyes. I try to breathe, but my chest heaves with so much emotion that it feels like I’m swallowing water, choking on it.

Silas.

Silas making love to me.

Silas holding me.

Silas kissing me before he betrays me.

Fire and ash and Silas’s betrayal.

“Shh. You’re safe.”

I need to move, to wake up, but my arms and legs won’t work. When I open my eyes, I see faces like shadows. Like looking through dirty glass again. Strangers. A woman. A man. And then Silas.

His eyes are so much like Sly’s. Like ice.

I’m freezing. It is so cold, and I’m freezing. It’s Ethan’s needle. It’s what he gave me that has me trapped.

“She should have woken up by now,” I hear Silas say. “She hit her head… The accident… She hit her head too hard. Is that⁠—”

The woman speaks in a lowered voice. I pick up one word. Drugged.

Drugged.

Yes.

Ethan injected me with something when I tried to get out of the car. He’d been giving me something for days. He said it was to help me sleep. He said it was for the pain, but it wasn’t that.

Ethan betrayed me too.

Silas and Ethan and Sly, and even my own father.

Is there no one I can trust?

“Give her something then!” Silas demands, and I feel a tiny prick in my arm.

I drift away, into my childhood home, my bedroom, the small bay window I love. It’s quiet as I sit alone in the warm light and read, but a commotion outside has me turn as a dark cloud obscures the sun. I look out through my binoculars into the garden of the house next door and watch two boys and a girl. I’m the girl. I’m twelve, and Ethan is fourteen, and Silas? He’s already a man. Silas looks up at me in the window. His hair flops into his eyes and we watch each other for a long, long time. What had he said to me that day?

Some things are better left unknown.

He was right.

Warm tears run down my cheeks. Someone wipes them away.

“Shh, sweet girl. Sleep. It’s all right.”

But it’s not all right. Nothing is all right, nor will it ever be all right again. My house is gone. My father is in prison—my father, who has been lying to me all my life. Ethan—well, Ethan and Mr. and Mrs. Fox—I never knew any of them. When I see them now, when their faces swim in my vision, their expressions are dark, their teeth sharp, their eyes as red as the rubies in that ring Sly likes to wear on his little finger.

But it’s not them who have tears running down my cheeks when I can’t move my limbs. When I can’t properly open my eyes.

It’s not the thought of all I’ve lost, all I never had.

It’s Silas. It’s Silas’s betrayal that makes my heart ache. Silas’s lies. His manipulations. What we did, what we shared. If we’d had one more moment, I’d have told him the truth. Told him I loved him. Told him I had always loved him.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >79

Advertisement The Heroes We Break (Heroes and Villains Duet #1) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/the-heroes-we-break-heroes-and-villains-duet-1-read-online-natasha-knight Sat, 27 Apr 2024 17:49:36 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-heroes-we-break-heroes-and-villains-duet-1-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Heroes and Villains Duet Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 70
Estimated words: 66732 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 334(@200wpm)___ 267(@250wpm)___ 222(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >70

She doesn’t belong to me.

I am the illegitimate son, unwanted and despised.

Ophelia Hart is the girl next door. I’ve watched her grow up. And rescued her countless times from my half-brother.

I’ve been gone from her life for two years and when I run into her again, she’s no longer a girl.

Only problem is, she’s wearing his ring on her finger.

But there’s always been something between us. I’ve always been her protector. Especially when it comes to him. And that pull is stronger than ever.

She no longer thinks me the hero of her story, though.

But I know something she doesn’t. A secret from her past. And she’s in danger.

She’ll fight me.

I’ll fight for her.

If she hates me for what I have to do, so be it.

Because there is no way in hell I will let my half-brother have her.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

SILAS

Present Day

Ihit play on the remote and watch Horatio Hart walk toward the courthouse. His steps are slow. He’s searching the crowd. A smile finally creeps onto his face. That’s unexpected. There’s only one reason he’d smile minutes before his sentencing hearing. He’s looking at ten years, after all. I follow the path his gaze takes and there she is, standing just beyond the throng, easily missed, unless you’re looking for her. And I’m looking.

Ophelia Hart.

Horatio Hart’s daughter.

I zoom in on her face and pause. A baseball cap is pulled low over her forehead and a thick scarf is wrapped around her neck. It hides all that pretty blond hair. Her eyes are red, her skin flushed pink like it always gets when she cries.

The last few months cannot have been easy on her.

I hit play again and watch as Horatio nods to let her know he’s seen her. It’s a silent communication. A thank you. An I love you. Or hell, maybe it’s just an I’m sorry I’m such a fucking piece of shit.

Then he’s gone, urged on by his lawyer. He disappears up the stairs and into the federal courthouse in Boston’s waterfront Seaport District. If I didn’t have the sound muted, I’m sure all I’d hear would be the clicking of cameras and the screaming of Hart’s name as the press bombards him with questions. That or the obscenities shouted at him by the angry crowd.

Horatio Hart has been toppled from his pedestal. Those who once loved him now call for his head on a stake. I can’t blame them.

The reporter’s generic face fills the screen. Behind him I watch Ophelia. She lifts a gloved hand to wipe her eyes. Her scarf shifts and the wind sweeps up a lock of long hair. It floats feather light, like it’s the softest thing on earth.

It is. Strong too.

I know.

Someone clears their throat behind me, interrupting. I hit pause and shift my attention to Cecilia, my personal assistant.

“Sir, excuse me,” she says.

“Everything is ready?” I ask.

“Yes, sir. The jet is scheduled to take off within the hour.”

“Good. Is the penthouse booked?”

“Yes, sir. Had to do some maneuvering, but The Sinistral is always accommodating when they hear your name.”

“I’m glad to hear it. Ms. Gibson’s rooms?” I keep Nigella Gibson, my attorney, on retainer for the company.

“Arranged, sir.”

“Good. I’ll be spending the next few weeks there. Make sure to have everything I’ll need sent up.”

“Yes, sir.” She clears her throat. “Ms. Day is ready, sir. Shall I send her in?” she asks, voice lowered. I’m not sure how comfortable Cecilia is with managing this more intimate aspect of my life, but it’s why I pay her what I do. She is discreet, and that is all I require of her. I neither have the time nor the desire for a woman outside of the physical comforts their bodies provide.

Looking at it that way, Ms. Day has been on a sort of retainer too, I suppose. At least up until now.

I shift my gaze to the image of sad little Ophelia Hart on the screen.

“That won’t be necessary,” I tell Cecilia. “Make sure she’s paid generously for her trouble, though.” If Cecilia is bothered by this, she doesn’t let on. It’s not her place. “I’ll head out in a few minutes. Make sure the car is ready.”

“Already done, sir.”

With that, she’s gone, and I’m alone with Ophelia once more. I study her, take in those familiar, whiskey-colored eyes. Sad eyes. She always had sad eyes, even before everything happened.

It’s been a while, and as little as I like the idea of her being caught in the crossfire, she made her choice a long time ago. Collateral damage. No war is won without it. And I intend on winning this one.

1

OPHELIA

Past

New Neighbors

Iwatch out the window as the second moving truck pulls out of the driveway of the house next door. The driver takes the turn a little wide, and the front tire jumps the curb before he’s out of our private little cul-de-sac. The house sold a few months ago, and I’ve been keeping an eye on all the construction. I even snuck over a few times to have a look around, but my dad doesn’t know about that. I’ll have to pretend I’m seeing everything for the first time when we go over to meet our new neighbors later today.

Through my binoculars, a birthday gift from Dad, I zoom in on the movers carrying box after box into the house. I even get to look inside some of the rooms as a legion of workers unpack all the nice, new things. Downstairs is easier to see into since the windows are floor to ceiling. Upstairs, I can almost see into one of the bedrooms.

Movement along the path from the swimming pool to the detached and much smaller cottage catches my eye, and I turn to see two blurry figures. I adjust the lens and focus on the pair.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >70

Advertisement The Penitent (The Sacrifice #2) Read Online Natasha Knight, A. Zavarelli http://www.books2020.com/the-penitent-the-sacrifice-2-read-online-natasha-knight-a-zavarelli Mon, 09 Oct 2023 12:40:10 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/the-penitent-the-sacrifice-2-read-online-natasha-knight-a-zavarelli Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Authors: A. Zavarelli, Natasha Knight Series: A. Zavarelli
Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 76048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 380(@200wpm)___ 304(@250wpm)___ 253(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

A cruel fate. Two souls condemned. An impossible love.

I knew he’d choose me before he came to our door on the night of the Tithing. I bore the mark that would make me his.

It was my ancestor who spoke the words that bound us together, and his demon-god who promised protection for the price of blood.

My blood.

I was prepared to be that sacrifice if it would keep my family safe.

Loving Azrael? The thought never crossed my mind. He was and would forever be my enemy.

He’s not the only monster coming for me, though, and somehow, it’s in Azrael’s arms I feel the safest.

But I need to be careful with him. I need to guard my heart because if I don’t, he is sure to destroy me.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

AZRAEL

To see the printed photographs, to hold them in my hands and look at them, is somehow worse than I imagined. No. That’s not right. I couldn’t imagine something as sick as this.

“Who the hell is this asshole?” I ask for the hundredth time. The 8x10 of Willow swimming naked is in my fist, my eyes glued to the butchery—again, that fucking word in my life—that has obscured her face. The rage in the carving—of the carver—is glaring. The photograph has almost been mutilated, with repeated lines etched into her forehead. The glossy paper has been worn, destroyed where he stained her beautiful face with the Disciples hallmark, the cross, their signature forever defiling their victims.

I don’t know why I assumed they carved that cross into the women after death. The sheer quantity of blood in the photos of their victims is evidence that they had been sliced into the skin while they were still alive. My mind cruelly manifests the image of Willow being held down, her face, her tears, her pain as the sharp point of the blade is dragged across her forehead.

I slam my fist down on the table. “Who the fuck is he?”

Larissa glances at the closed door, then to Emmanuel. “I shouldn’t really be showing you these,” she starts, but my brother puts up a hand to let her know he’ll handle it.

“Give us a few minutes, Larissa. Let me talk to my brother,” Emmanuel says.

“I can get into serious trouble.”

“I know. And we appreciate this very much. You know that. It’ll be fine. I promise.”

Although reluctant, Larissa picks up her phone and walks out of the room. We’ve met her at the back of a restaurant usually reserved for small dinner parties rather than her office at the police station because she’s right. She shouldn’t be showing us these.

“A man’s been writing her letters. Threatening her for a while. It’s the same person or people, I’m sure.” Guilt gnaws at me, my gut tight with it… and with the knowledge that she’s locked up in my house.

“She’s safe for now. Let’s figure out who the car is registered to,” Emmanuel says.

“I want the photographs. All of them,” I say.

“Brother, this is an open investigation. They’re not going to hand those over.”

I grit my jaw. He’s right, I know. I glance at the other photos laid out before him. They’re of Raven Wildblood. She doesn’t wear the carving on her forehead. The man who did this has Willow in his sights. She is his obsession and based on the timeline of the photographs, Willow being as young as sixteen in some, he’s been stalking her for a while.

“We need to contact the Wildbloods. Make sure they know.”

Emmanuel nods tightly just as the door opens and Larissa re-enters. She hands over a folded piece of paper. “Here,” she says, and Emmanuel takes it. “It’s the registration of the vehicle, but I’m not sure that’s going to get you very far. The owner is a seventy-year-old man from Portsmouth, New England. It’s probably stolen.”

“Are there prints? DNA from the dog bite?”

“We’re testing any samples we can get but these guys are meticulous. They’ve never left so much as a hair at any of the crime scenes. And this woman is the only survivor we’ve come across.”

“Can she tell us anything?” I ask.

“She’s in shock. I hope to talk to her later today, but as far as what we know for sure, there were three of them and they kept the lower half of their faces covered. The one new detail we learned from the victim that the witness can corroborate is that they were wearing cassocks. But that’s all we have. Priests, though…”

“They’re not priests. Or if they are, they worship a warped god,” I say, thinking of Shemhazai’s statue standing proud in the churchyard, of Salomé’s blind devotion to the demon- angel.

I open my mouth to speak, but my cell phone rings. I glance at the clock. It’s almost three in the morning. I reach into my pocket to draw the phone out and see the call is coming from home. My heart drops to my stomach as I swipe to answer.

“Hello?” I practically bark because no one calls at three in the morning with good news.

“Azrael. She’s gone. Rébecca is gone!” Salomé shrieks.

My heart, back in its place in my chest, pounds against my ribs. “What do you mean, gone?” God. No. Please do not let her—

“She’s disappeared along with your wife. That witch kidnapped her!”

“What?”

Emmanuel takes the phone and puts it on speaker. “What’s going on?”

“I’m telling you. They’re not here. Rébecca and the harlot are gone!”

Without another word, I stalk out of that room, the photo of Willow with the carving in her forehead still in my hand. They can keep the rest. That one is mine. I’m going to make the asshole who desecrated it eat it before I fucking kill him.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >80

Advertisement The Tithing (The Sacrifice #1) Read Online Natasha Knight, A. Zavarelli http://www.books2020.com/the-tithing-the-sacrifice-1-read-online-natasha-knight-a-zavarelli Sat, 23 Sep 2023 20:10:56 +0000 https://www.booksnovels.com/the-tithing-the-sacrifice-1-read-online-natasha-knight-a-zavarelli Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Contemporary, Dark, Fantasy/Sci-fi, Paranormal, Suspense Authors: A. Zavarelli, Natasha Knight Series: A. Zavarelli
Series: The Sacrifice Series by Natasha Knight
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 79889 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 399(@200wpm)___ 320(@250wpm)___ 266(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

An ancient curse. Two families bound. A forbidden love.

When the Wildbloods presented their daughters to me on the night of the Tithing, they knew what was to come for the chosen girl.

The crescent moon that marked Willow made her mine. I had no choice but to take her.

Destiny determined our fates long before we were born, laying our roles out for us.

A Sacrifice would be made. A Tithe paid. Only then would our families be free, at least until the next payment came due.

I would have done my duty as Penitent. I tried.

But no one counted on the lion falling in love with the lamb.

And loving Willow could cost me everything.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

PROLOGUE

AZRAEL

The hanging tree is barely visible through the mist that’s settled heavily across the land. The sun is a line on the horizon. A man crosses the field. He draws his cloak closer against the morning’s chill, his careless steps crushing the frozen ground beneath his boots.

His eyes catch mine, and he grins.

Isaiah Delacroix. The first Penitent.

He wears my face, but there’s something wrong with it. Something I can’t put my finger on.

My vision blurs and I feel myself tugged, as if hooked like a fish. My head feels as though it’s cracking open, being divided in two parts. The pain is agonizing, but it will pass. The worst is yet to come. I know.

And in the next instant, it comes. Oh, how it comes. Always the same, yet always a shock.

Because I am him. I am Isaiah Delacroix.

I see through his eyes. I think his thoughts. I feel every evil thing he feels.

“The Tithing time has come,” he says.

His words terrify me, but I am trapped and mute, a prisoner to this man whose face I have inherited. I look down at the clothes I’m wearing. I don’t recognize them. But the hands, they’re mine. The ring on my finger? It’s Isaiah’s. The ring of The Penitent.

I shove my hands into my pockets so I don’t have to see it. There’s something in one of them, though, something soft and wet.

“Duty, boy,” he says, and I turn to him because his voice is my own.

That head-splitting pain comes again. The scene before me flickers, blurring momentarily as I break free of the tether binding me to him. But I’m powerless to flee, my feet rooted to the spot. We are two men with identical faces standing alongside Proctor’s Ledge.

Except my thoughts are not my own. They’re still his.

We stand apart from the people of Salem who have all turned out in their Sunday best. They wouldn’t miss the execution of the Wildblood witch. They’re a bloodthirsty bunch. I find I hate them as much as he does. It’s the one thing we have in common apart from our last name. Mothers and fathers point out heavy branches, their children making a game out of guessing which one they’ll string her up to.

“I have my money on the highest branch, although it wouldn’t be a fair bet, seeing as how I paid for it,” Isaiah says with a laugh.

He, too, wants to see her hang. He’s hard at the thought of it. He wants to see her fear as they tighten the noose around her neck and when they pull the cart out from under her, he wants her eyes on him. Isaiah will watch her twist and turn in agony and terror as her life is stolen from her. He has bought and paid for these, her final moments. They will be his morbid keepsake. Because he has won and she has lost and she will finally know it.

Except it hasn’t gone quite the way he wanted.

Exhausted, I hear my own ragged breath and feel the bite of this freezing morning with each inhale as if this were real. As if I were truly standing here, on this ledge upon this condemned land watching an execution that took place centuries ago.

The crowd quiets at the sound of horse’s hooves approaching, signaling the arrival of the wagon carrying the accused.

Anticipation builds in them.

In me.

Anticipation of something wicked to come.

I watch, riveted, as an unearthly silence settles around us. No one dares to breathe as the carriage cuts a line through the center of the dirt road. People making way, crossing themselves as she passes. A child howls and buries her face in her mother’s neck.

She’s right to be afraid. After all, her mommy could be next if she isn’t careful.

The mist clears unnaturally, as if obeying some command. The wagon slows, and my gaze falls on the condemned woman. I know exactly who she is. The Wildbloods and the Delacroixes have a long history.

This is Elizabeth Wildblood.

She is the first of their line to be sacrificed, the first witch to be hanged.

Beautiful. Even in the filthy remnants of her rags, her finery long taken from her. A mass of the loveliest, reddest hair—a sign of the devil—tumbles thick and long down her back, over a pale, bare shoulder where her dress is torn.

She’s thrown off balance when the wagon halts, and an onlooker catches her instinctively to save her from falling. I notice how Isaiah’s hands fist at the gesture—or maybe it’s seeing the man’s hands on her. When she is righted, I see that the hair behind her right ear has been hacked off at the scalp, the skin still bloody, as if someone’s crudely taken a lock of it.

The man senses his mistake in touching the witch. He snatches his hand away as if he touched fire. The crowd gasps, each person frantically making the sign of the cross.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >84

Advertisement Deliver Me From Evil (Augustine Brothers #2) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/deliver-me-from-evil-augustine-brothers-2-read-online-natasha-knight Tue, 09 May 2023 20:48:54 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/deliver-me-from-evil-augustine-brothers-2-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Augustine Brothers Series by Natasha Knight
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 91847 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 459(@200wpm)___ 367(@250wpm)___ 306(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >95

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with my wife. That wasn’t part of the plan.

From the moment I first laid eyes on Madelena De Léon, I felt a primal urge to protect her. Keep her safe. Her father had failed her. I would not.

She is innocent, and I have no business taking her to my bed. But Madelena and I are bonded. Our destinies inexplicably linked. As is our survival.

My past is dark. I’ve made many enemies and betrayal runs rampant in my world. But sometimes those closest to you are the most dangerous of all.

If I was a better man, I would let her go. I know it’s the only way to keep her safe.

But any goodness I had in me vanished long ago. I am a man condemned. I want what I want.

And what I want is her.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

1

SANTOS

“Where is she?” I groan, gritting my teeth as Dr. Cummings stitches me up.

“I don’t know. She ran out while I was trying to keep you from bleeding out,” Val tells me for the hundredth time.

“I realize that. Fuck!” Pain has me hissing. The local anesthetic is slow to work, but I don’t have time to wait. I lean up on my elbows, the flexing of my stomach muscles agonizing.

“Relax, Mr. Augustine,” Cummings says, signaling to Val for help.

“I’ve got men out looking for her,” Val says as he touches my shoulders and eases me down onto my back.

I look past him, willing the doctor to hurry up. The wound looked worse than it was, although I can still see Madelena’s face in that moment before I passed out. Her shock. Her horror. Does she think that I’m dead? That she killed me? The loss of consciousness was due to the crashing of my head against the floor. But there was no time to brace myself and it was either her or me.

“I need to go,” I tell them both. “Now.”

“A few more minutes,” Cummings says, sweat slick on his forehead. For a doctor, he looks fucking queasy. “It’s best for you to rest—”

“That’s it,” I say, sitting up as soon as he has slapped the bandage on. There’s a moment of dizziness, but I shut my eyes against it, and it passes. “Get me a shirt.” Val is already coming out of my closet with one, and I pull it on, wincing as I drag my arm on my injured side into it. “Where’s my brother? Why isn’t he here?”

“We can’t get hold of him. We’re still trying,” Val says.

“Has anyone been to the lighthouse?” I ask, standing. Blood has crusted on the waistband of my slacks, and I know I need to take it easy for the stitches not to rip open, but I need to find her. I need to get to her before she can do anything stupid. I saw how distraught she was after what her brother—her fucking idiot brother who will be dealt with—told her.

I will also never forget the look of utter shock on her face when she saw where the letter opener she still held was lodged.

“The lighthouse? Why would she go there in this storm?”

I glance out the window as the beacon washes the raging waves in light. They haven’t found her in the building or on the property, and there’s no way she could have gotten far on foot in this weather. No vehicles have left the premises.

“Because that’s going to be her instinct,” I say, knowing it in my gut. It’s the worst fucking place she can go in the state of mind she’s in. “I’m going up there. You keep trying my brother. And make sure Odin De Léon sticks around.” The fucking asshole.

“I’ll go with you,” Val says.

“No cell service out there.” I don’t give him a chance to reply before I’m out the door. The service elevator doors miraculously slide open as soon as I push the button, halle-fucking-lujah, and I ride down along with two soldiers Val sends after me. It’s faster than I could have gone on the stairs in my state.

I see in the reflection on the back of the mirrored doors how the stain of blood is spreading on the once-white bandage. At least it’s a little less painful now that the local anesthetic is finally kicking in.

Once the doors open, I hurry back out of the building the way I brought Madelena in. A woman gasps when she sees me, and someone drops a tray, but I ignore them all. The two soldiers flank me. I move as quickly as I’m able out into the storm and take a moment to look at the hulking building of the lighthouse in the distance.

Wind and rain howl, and I swear when lightning strikes, I see people out on that catwalk. But the temporary illumination is gone too quickly, and it’s too far to see. Besides, no one can be out there. The lock on that door is intact. I saw that myself when Caius and I went out there the night of the wedding.

Christ. Has it only been days since then? It feels like a fucking eternity has passed.

The wind picks up as we approach the narrowing neck of the cliff. One of the men curses, huddling into his coat and leaning to fight the force of the storm that seems determined to keep us away.

“Madelena!” I call out, but she wouldn’t hear me over the storm.

When we reach the lighthouse, I open the door and reach in to search for the light switch. I find it but nothing happens when I flip it. I try several times to no avail.

I dig my hand into my pocket to get my phone, planning to use its flashlight, but I come up empty. It must be in my jacket.

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >95

Advertisement Forgive Me My Sins (Augustine Brothers #1) Read Online Natasha Knight http://www.books2020.com/forgive-me-my-sins-augustine-brothers-1-read-online-natasha-knight Mon, 01 May 2023 20:22:16 +0000 http://www.booksnovels.com/forgive-me-my-sins-augustine-brothers-1-read-online-natasha-knight Genre: Contemporary, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Suspense Authors: Natasha Knight Series: Augustine Brothers Series by Natasha Knight
Advertisement

Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)

<<<<1 2 3 11 21 >91

I’m not supposed to fall in love with my husband. It’s not part of my plan.

Forgive me.

Those were the first words Santos Augustine spoke to me before we sealed an unbreakable oath. A contract signed in blood binding me to him as payment for my father’s sins.

Wearing the mask of legitimacy, this powerful crime family has returned to Avarice to punish those who have wronged them and take what they’ve always been denied, a place among the elite.

Forced to marry my enemy, I’m thrust into his world of secrets and betrayals.

My husband is a dangerous man. And he has dangerous enemies. But it’s when I’m attacked that his fury is unleashed.

It’s then I see what it means to belong to Santos Augustine.

And although I know the safest place for me is in his bed, I can’t let myself fall in love with my husband.

*Please note this age-gap, arranged marriage mafia romance contains references to past self-harm.

*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************

Prologue

Madelena

Present Day

* * *

“Forgive me.”

They were the first words he spoke to me. I can still hear them, still see the look in his eyes as he took my hand and said them. I couldn’t turn away from him.

Not until I saw the flash of the blade he produced out of nowhere.

I blink, and the room comes into focus. I open my hand to trace the thin scar across my palm, the raised flesh bumpy. Does his match mine?

The surprise of it had shocked me at first, then the pain. The latter should have been familiar, but strangely, it wasn’t. It depends on who’s holding the knife, I guess.

A key turning in the lock on my door disrupts my thoughts and draws me into the present. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror, dark hair around a too-pale face and eyes lined heavily with black. Little Kitty, he calls me. It sounds almost tender, but it’s not. It’s his mockery of me.

I don’t have time to think about it as Sister Catherine opens the door, the key dangling from a chain at her belt. She never has bothered to knock. I brush my hair and watch her in the mirror as she surveys the room. My bags are packed, and I’m sure she can’t wait to be rid of me.

Behind her, Mr. Abbot, the groundskeeper, stands in the doorway.

“Take it all down,” she tells him sharply. “Load it into the car.”

My heart thuds against my chest because it’s time. This is it.

“Not that one,” I say, pointing to the oversized, still-unzipped tote on the bed. It’s the one with the things I actually care about.

Mr. Abbot looks to Sister Catherine, who shrugs and approaches me. She takes the brush from my hand and stands directly behind me at the vanity. I watch Mr. Abbot sling my duffel bag over his shoulder and lift the two suitcases. They have wheels, but he carries them anyway.

“Goodbye, Mr. Abbot,” I call out. He pauses at the door and glances at Sister Catherine, who tugs too hard on my hair. He gives me a small but warm smile.

He was always kind to me.

The door closes, and I look up at Sister Catherine’s pursed face. It’s not quite resting bitch face—more of a forever-constipated face. I mentioned once they have things you can buy over the counter for that. She did not appreciate it. Remembering the moment makes me smile.

“We should have had this cut,” she says, tugging the brush through.

“Too late,” I say with a smirk. She’s made sure I knew exactly what a burden I was from day one. Exactly what she thought of my kind, as she put it, and I always reminded her how easily she took money from my kind.

My kind being my fiancé, the heir to a crime family. This was where the Augustine protection had come in handy. She had limited power over me. I could say what I wanted to say, and all she could do was lock me in my room and deprive me of dinner as punishment. Yes, she’d made the last two years of my life as hellish as she could, but she couldn’t really touch me. I’ve survived worse than her.

I wince as she tugs and pulls, but I bear it. My eyes fill up, but I don’t let a single tear fall.

“You’ll do well to remember to keep your mouth shut with your husband.”

“He’s not my husband yet,” I say, earning another tug. I turn the diamond ring on my finger, trying to keep my face neutral, trying not to show how anxious I feel—how much I dread what’s to come. Because it’s only a matter of time until he is my husband, and there’s no way out of it.

She puts the brush down and sets her hands at her back.“Stand up.”

I glimpse the thin leather strap that hangs from her belt, which is another thing I was protected from. I’ve seen what she’s capable of doing with that strap.

I stand, turning to face her. I’m taller than her, and she doesn’t much like it.

She looks me over, and I want to ask her why she hates me. Why she hasn’t helped me once or offered even the smallest comfort. It’s not like I chose this, or like I can stop it.

No one can.

Because five years ago, I was promised to Santos Augustine. We signed the contract in blood, mine and his, while our families watched.

I touch my thumb to the scar as Sister Catherine’s hard gaze meets mine. I press my fingernail into it, the pain grounding me.

She looks me over, likely making sure I’m wearing the dress I’ve been told to wear. I am. She nods and turns to walk out. “Come.”

I put my brush into the bag on the bed and zip it, slinging it over my shoulder then following her out of the room that’s been my prison and my sanctuary for the last two years. I don’t look back. I can’t.

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