Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
I can’t shake my suspicion. I want to, but I can’t help it. I keep imagining my father making a deal and selling me out, no matter how implausible.
“Fuck,” I say and stand up. I finish my drink and feel the alcohol loosen my nerves. “I’m being stupid,” I say to myself and walk into the kitchen. I put my glass in the sink then head into my control room to check on Grace.
I have to put the call out of my mind. It was meant to get to me. I need to be better than that. Better than this.
I can’t worry about it just now. My father wouldn’t betray me. I know he’s close on a plan to finish the Don once and for all. He’s come through countless times, and I know he’ll come through now. I saw parts of the plan, and from what I can tell, it’s solid. I wouldn’t go with him on the hit if it didn’t look like a serious plan.
The call was probably just some bullshit prank that the Rossis decided to test me with. I have to concentrate on Grace now that we’re doing so well.
I sit at the monitors and watch her, slowly forgetting about everything else.
Chapter 22
Grace
* * *
I don’t know why I came to the cage. But now that I’m here, I can’t leave. I slept so well on the bed. It was a deep sleep, full of comfort. But he was gone when I woke up. The sheets beside me were cold to the touch. And it left me feeling like I’d been cheated. I don’t know what’s wrong with me to think there’s more to what this is.
Yesterday ruined me. It destroyed my armor. I don’t recognize the woman I am.
I’ve sat here all day, feeling hurt and abandoned. As if I have a right to feel those things. What did I expect? I’m nothing to him. I’m no one. A piece of property that he was gifted.
My jaw clenches and I refuse to feel any more for him, but the second I hear the thudding of his boots in the hall, I take notice. My body turns to the door, and I wait for him. I’m eager for him. I hate it, but I won’t lie to myself. As much I detest this side of me, I find comfort there. I even enjoy it.
At least I’m in the cage. My lips threaten to curl into a smirk, but I resist. If he wants to leave me, then I can leave him, too.
The door beeps, one of my favorite sounds now, and Gio takes two steps into the room. I watch his eyes as they move from the bed to the cage. Anger isn’t present, not like it was last night, but there’s something there. Or rather, something’s missing. That spark and fire, the heat in his eyes. Something’s different, and it throws me off balance.
“Grace,” he greets me, walking to the large chair by the table. He sets the tray in his hands down and looks back at me, sagging into the seat. He leans back and waits.
I want to crawl to him. I want to put my head in his lap and comfort him.
I know something is wrong. I just don’t know what.
My heart stills as I wait. Both of us are staring at each other, but neither of us are willing to act.
Finally, he moves forward, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin in his hand. “Come to me,” he says softly. My body obeys before I give my conscious consent. I move forward on all fours.
I crawl to him, partly because I want to and partly because I know this is one step closer to my freedom.
Yes. I cling to that reason. I convince myself that if I’m a good girl, he’ll let me go. I’ve gotten good at lying to myself over the years.
I’m not obeying because I want to submit to him, I want to please him. That’s not why.
I’m not hurting for him because something’s wrong. I don’t feel for him. That’s not what this pain in my chest is.
I can tell myself lies all day and night, but the moment I reach him, kneeling on the concrete before him, and he leans down, cupping my cheek in his hand and pressing his lips to mine, my heart swells.
I arch my back and moan into his mouth, my fingers spearing into his hair and pulling him closer to me.
Gio.
He breaks our kiss and sits back in his seat, his eyes never leaving mine. I stay kneeling on the floor, eyes wide and waiting for him. For whatever he wants from me.
“Do you think you can obey me?” he asks.
My eyes narrow, and for a moment I don’t respond. But I swallow my hesitation and nod my consent. He won’t hurt me. I trust him.