Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 269(@300wpm)
“What were you doing with her?” Matteo asks.
“Nothing, sir,” they reply in unison. “We were taking her to Zara like she asked.”
“Yeah, she was a hitchhiker,” the other one says.
But when they throw a filthy glance at me, I pull my bathrobe together and tightly wrap it around my body in an effort to conceal my nudity. I can still feel their dirty fingers all over me, and it makes me want to vomit.
“No,” Matteo says. “You touched her.”
He points his gun at the dude on the left.
“No one touches what’s mine.”
BANG!
Matteo kills the third dude on the spot, and he slumps down onto the ground, blood splashing everywhere.
The last remaining guy squeals. “Please don’t kill me.” He drops down headfirst into the dirt, fingers clutched together, praying for mercy from Matteo.
“You tried to take her. You tried to take what belongs to me. She’s my wife. Mine, do you hear me? No one who touches my wife lives to tell the tale.”
BANG!
The last one flops to the ground too, his hands still clutched together as if he’s praying to God for all eternity, even beyond death.
And I can’t help but stare at the bloodshed in front of me and the ease with which Matteo ripped them off the face of the earth just because they dared to take me … Just because they tried to hurt me and take me for themselves.
I clutch my own legs, trying to maintain my emotions as they overpower me.
A single tear rolls down my cheeks, but it’s not because I’m sad for their deaths.
It’s because I’m grateful that Matteo was here to kill them for me.
Matteo
I kneel in front of Stella, wondering how on earth I could ever make this right. She doesn’t deserve this. They fucking hurt her because she escaped, and I let it happen. Fuck, I feel so guilty.
I place my hand on her shoulder, but she winces, still scared from whatever happened to her in the back of that grimy old car.
Goddammit.
I should have kept them alive just so I could torture them again. I should have cut off their balls for even attempting to touch her. But I can never take away the memory that now stains her mind, and for that, I will never forgive myself.
She’s breathing louder and faster with each breath, panic taking hold of her soul. Her eyes skid toward my gun when I try to pull her in for a hug, and her body grows rigid.
She’s scared … scared of me, and I don’t ever want her to be.
“I won’t hurt you, Tesoro,” I tell her.
But she still shudders and shakes her head like she doesn’t believe me.
I pull out my gun and throw it as far away as possible. She looks up at me with those gorgeous eyes, and I gently cup her face in my hand. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be here sooner.”
Suddenly, she falls into my chest, hugging me so tightly that it steals the words from my lips. God, I’ve never felt such warmth.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she mutters again and again.
I place my hand on her back. “Don’t. Don’t ever thank me for doing the right thing, the one thing I should have done all along. I should have protected you.”
She buries her face in my chest as a few tears escape, and I slowly pat her on the back.
“They touched you, didn’t they?” I ask, the question too painful to even think about.
She softly nods, and my worst fears immediately come alive.
Fuck.
I breathe out a sigh and close my eyes, begging the gods to take this pain away from her … begging for forgiveness. Only she will be able to forgive me, and I’ve never felt such guilt in my life.
I have to fix this. But how?
I get up from the ground with her in my arms, carrying her all the way back to my car, which is damaged beyond belief. A small price to pay to save my wife from absolute ruin. After I put her down in the back seat, I pull a blanket from my trunk and gently drag it over her, wrapping her in it tightly. Then I tip up her chin.
“Let’s go home, Tesoro.”
She doesn’t respond, but I don’t need any words from her to know what she really wants. Safety. Security. A promise that I’ll protect her from now on, even from myself.
I sink behind the wheel and turn on the engine. Then make the call. “Franco, I’ve got her.”
MATTEO
I drive all the way back to my house, keeping a keen eye on her in the rearview mirror. She’s not spoken a word since I put her down in my back seat, but her eyes are on me like a hawk.
I know she doesn’t like me.
It’s been clear from day one that she wants nothing more than to escape my grasp.