Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96460 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 482(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved he’d left. His son was not intelligent, but he was impulsive. Still, Vitale’s professional and calculating demeanor scared me even more.
Gio ran a finger down my arm, and I flinched, which he found amusing. He gestured to the built-in bar with hanging wine glasses and several bottles of red angled on a stand. “Go to the bar and pour a glass of wine.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“It’s not for you.”
The logical side of my brain warned me against it, but the plan was already half-formed, so it was too late. I stood and stalked toward the bar, using my handcuffed hands to pull down a large glass by the stem. My heart beat faster as I prepared myself.
I slammed it against the edge of the counter, and the bell of the glass shattered into several large shards. One was sharp on my fingers when I gripped it, whirling to lunge at Gio—
There was an unfamiliar sliding and snapping sound, then pain so intense on my shin it reverberated up my body and made me cry out. Instant tears sprang into my eyes. Carlo held a black rod, the kind police used for riot control, and in my hands . . . there was nothing. The crack of his switch against my bone had made me drop the shard and clutch the nearby counter to keep from going down.
“Pour a glass of wine,” Carlo repeated Gio’s command.
I hissed my breath through my teeth, my leg throbbing, and the pain made me shake uncontrollably. It hurt too fucking much to try it again.
“Andiamo,” Gio barked. Hurry up.
The glasses rattled as my trembling hand closed on another and pulled it down. My gaze moved slowly to the wine selection. The bottle in front was half empty, a cork jutting out of the top, but the other bottles were unopened. “I need a corkscrew.”
“You will use the bottle that’s already open.”
It was a longshot that they’d hand me a weapon, but I had to try. The handcuffs made the task difficult to remove the cork, but it came free with a soft thump, and I poured it into the glass until it was a third of the way full.
“Bring it to me.”
Gio studied me intently, telling me this was a test. Do as he asked and I’d begin to bend to his will, or stand my ground and take my first beating.
I limped toward Gio, my heart in my throat, but I tried to keep the worst of my pain from my face. His too-white smile beamed up at me, and it died when I cleared my throat and spit in the glass, offering it to him.
He snarled something at me. “Drink it.”
“No.”
A knife came from Gio’s pocket. “Drink it, or I’ll cut you open and pour it in.”
Survive, the voice in my head whispered. The wine was dry and buttery. I gagged as it slid down my throat and had to look away when I saw Gio’s victorious expression.
“Pour a glass of wine.”
I exhaled in frustration and limped back to the bar, setting the glass down on the counter. Was this his way of convincing me to talk? To get me drunk? He hadn’t even asked a question about Ethan yet. The muscles in my arms tightened, steeling myself for what was coming, whatever reward I was going to earn for my next action.
I pushed the open bottle off the counter, and it broke on the hardwood, splattering wine everywhere.
“I need a corkscrew,” I said, defiant.
Searing pain ripped across the backs of my thighs as Carlo drove the rod against my flesh, and I cried out, my vision blurred with sudden tears. Make the throbbing stop, my brain screamed on repeat.
“You are a stubborn bitch, aren’t you?”
I was still facing the bar, my tear-filled gaze turned away from Gio, and I tried to blink them back. I wiped at my face, my handcuffs rattling. “Guilty as charged.”
“Clean that up.”
There was a dishtowel folded, probably for polishing the glasses, and I dropped it into the puddle on the floor, watching it soak up the red wine, hypnotized.
“All you have to do is start talking and this will go away.”
My mind began to work over the pain again, and I considered shifting tactics. Fighting back wasn’t working, but it was my first instinct. “I don’t have anything to say.”
He smiled, and I wanted to vomit. “Come sit beside me.”
I couldn’t endure another crack of the rod so soon. The lingering sting from the last was still too brutal, so I reluctantly did as asked, sitting beside him on my tender legs.
“You look ridiculous wearing clothing really meant for a man,” Carlo said, spitting out Gio’s words with exactly the same inflection. “They will come off, and I think I’ll enjoy fucking you for quite a while.”