Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 82485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82485 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 412(@200wpm)___ 330(@250wpm)___ 275(@300wpm)
He cuts up a bunch of mushrooms before his eyes flick to me. Using the knife, he points at a stool by the island, indicating for me to sit down while he asks, “What do you think happened today?”
A frown forms on my forehead as I cautiously move to the other side of the island so the slab of marble is between us.
Leo proceeds to chop ham into little squares, and I swallow hard on the lump in my throat. “Something happened between you, my uncle, and Luciano.”
Only once he’s done with all the chopping does he set down the knife and brace his hands on the marble top. It causes the muscles in his forearms to tighten and his veins to appear beneath his skin.
Stop noticing how hot the man is! He’s dangerous.
I glance around the large kitchen to keep from staring at him. The cupboards are white with glass panels, allowing me to see where the cups, glasses, and plates are stored. All the appliances look state-of-the-art.
My father sold cars for a living, and my mother was a stay-at-home Mom. We weren’t well off, but we always had food, and the bills were paid.
It’s clear Leo is filthy rich, and it only makes him even more intimidating.
“Do you know who I am?” he asks.
Shaking my head, I look at him again.
“Leo Toscano,” he murmurs, his tone cool and deep like the depths of the dark ocean. “I’m the head of the mafia.”
My lips part on a shocked gasp, and as his words sink in, the fear I’ve been feeling spirals into something unrecognizable.
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
When I just blink at him, my mouth hanging open like a gaping fish, he tilts his head. “By the look of surprise on your face, I’m going to assume you weren’t lying when you said you didn’t know who I am.”
The only thing I know about the mafia is that it’s similar to cartels, drug dealers, and gangs. They’re all criminals and on the wrong side of the law.
I’m trembling severely, unable to form a coherent word to reply.
Leo continues preparing the meal by pulling a pot out of the drawer next to the stove. He pours water into it and adds a bit of olive oil before setting it down on the stove.
He glances at me as he opens a packet of fettuccine. “I’m thirty-three, and I actually never intended to get married.”
I press my hand to my churning stomach, my tongue darting out to wet my dry lips. “Then why force me to marry you?”
His gaze locks on me again, and he stares at me for so long I’m a complete nervous wreck by the time he answers, “There’s just something about you I can’t ignore.”
My voice quivers. “What?”
A frown line appears between his eyebrows. “I don’t know yet.” Turning around, he pulls a pan out of the drawer and places it on the stove as well.
I watch as he prepares a creamy cheese sauce, and I jerk with fright when he asks, “What kind of person are you?”
“I-I don’t know.” My arms wrap tightly around my middle, and I hunch my shoulders.
Leo lets out a chuckle. “You don’t know what kind of person you are?”
“I don’t know how to answer it.” Honestly, I can’t focus enough to have this conversation with the violent man.
“What are your hobbies?”
“Reading.”
“What work do you do?” He lets out another chuckle, then corrects himself. “Used to do.”
“I haven’t started working yet,” I admit, not comfortable telling him about myself.
Leo glances at me again as he adds the fettuccine to the boiling water. “Did you study?”
“Yes,” I mutter. “Business management.”
He lifts an eyebrow at me. “Is that what you want to do?”
I just shrug, curling more into myself.
“As my wife, you won’t have to work.”
Jesus. His wife.
It feels like his words form shackles around my wrists, and I close my eyes as hopelessness wells in my chest.
“Please,” I whisper before opening my eyes to give him a pleading look. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Leo adds the mushrooms and ham to the sauce, then he turns around and leans back against the counter. Crossing his arms over his chest, his eyes take mine captive again.
I can’t stop a tear from escaping and rolling down my cheek. Wiping it away with the tips of my fingers, I add, “I just want to go home with my mom.”
He tilts his head, his expression growing grim. “Does it look like I give a shit about what you want?”
No. Which is confusing me even more. Nothing makes sense.
“I don’t understand why you want to marry me,” I say, my tone hoarse.
“That makes two of us, principessa.” An annoyed look flashes over his handsome features. “There’s just something about you I can’t put my finger on.”
“Seriously?” I exclaim. “This is madness. You’re willing to ruin my life because of something you can’t put your finger on? Are you insane?”