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 felt horrible. I felt broken. And I felt … liberated.
It felt good. Yet again, I feel as though I must be sick. I’ve killed, and I have no regrets. I’ve fallen in love with a man who took me prisoner. I must truly be sick.
“Princess?” Gio’s rough cadence when he calls my name makes my body heat with need.
I look over, snapped out of my thoughts. Gio is looking at me, concern clear on his face. We’re stopped at a red light. His truck is idling beneath us. We had to walk a few blocks, and all the while I gripped his hand with fear as though my father was coming for us. But he’s dead. I have to keep reminding myself of that fact.
“I’m okay,” I say softly. For some reason, I want to lie to him. I don’t want him to be upset or to worry about me. I know that’s crazy, but it’s the truth.
“You’re not okay,” he says simply. “We’ll be home soon.” He reaches across the truck and takes my hand, a sudden and comforting gesture.
It’s such a small thing, but I needed it.
Home. I’ve never had a home. Only a prison. I look at him from the corner of my eye and wonder if he’s going to put me in that room. He can’t. It will crush me if he tries. I’m finally free, and I know what I want. I want him. I want a life together. But I can’t be caged anymore. Never again.
I lean back in the seat and nod my head. Gio is bruised and beaten, in horrible shape, but he’s still going. He’s the strongest man I’ve ever met. He was willing to do anything to save me, to keep me safe. Despite everything, I know the kind of man Gio is. He’s the kind of man I want beside me for the rest of my life. I think he wants me too, but I need to hear him say it. I’m desperate for those words.
The image of my father’s bleeding corpse keeps coming back to me.
I squeeze Gio’s hand, and he squeezes back. I have to hold on tightly or else risk falling into my waking nightmare. Gio can help me. I know he can. He’s been through this before. He’s killed before.
We pull up to his house, the gravel driveway rumbling beneath the tires. I get a good look at it for the first time, the only time, without any fear. It’s a beautiful house, built to look like a cabin, but I know it’s much bigger than it seems.
It looks like a home. I can just picture the porch swing. I look to my left at Gio and I wonder if he’d build one for me. He’s given me everything I’ve ever asked for. But things are different now.
They’ll always be different.
“Come on, princess,” he says as he climbs out of the truck. He walks around the front and takes my hand again. “Let’s go inside.”
“Okay,” I say nodding my head and feeling so unsure, and let him lead me through the large front door.
I take a good look around as I enter. I vaguely remember the modern furniture and clean sleek lines as my uncle took me away a few days ago. Gio takes me into the kitchen and sits me down at the granite island on a bar stool. It feels strange to be in his house but not in my room. To be free for the first time. Even at my father’s house, someone was always watching. I look up at Gio and wonder if that will be him from now on.
Something inside of me settles, knowing the answer already. Gio’s different. I know he is.
It also feels normal to be sitting there with him. He goes into the refrigerator and offers me wine. He pulls a bottle out, dark purple, almost black. I can’t read the label, but it doesn’t matter.
“No thanks,” I say in a soft voice, although I could use something for my nerves. I’m too shaken, and I feel on edge. But I need my wits. He nods and makes himself a drink. Whisky with ice. He sits down across from me, ice clinking in his glass.
We’re quiet for a moment as I take in the place.
“Come here,” he says, holding an arm out.
I stand quickly, needing his touch. I need his comfort; I need his reassurance. He reaches out and grabs my hips, pulling me toward him and into his lap. I bury my head into his chest, loving his warmth as he holds me there. I curl up against him and for the second time, I let myself go.
I sob into his chest. Everything seems to be too much for me to handle anymore.
He holds me, softly stroking my hair. “It’s okay,” he says softly.