Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 44860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44860 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
The chaos in the lobby had been handled with the efficiency of a thing well-rehearsed, which it was, because reporters had discovered long ago that Cannizzaro Tower had a particular elevator bank that Olivio favored, and security had discovered equally long ago that the solution was speed rather than confrontation.
By the time Olivio had his hand at the girl's back—-Chelsea, Edgar had told him, Chelsea Regis, now apparently Chelsea Cannizzaro—-they were already moving.
The elevator doors closed, and the lobby noise cut to nothing.
She hadn't said a word.
That was the first thing Olivio noticed—-not that she was standing beside him, not the faint scent of something light and clean that he couldn't identify, not even the quilted case she was holding against herself with both hands like something she was either protecting or being protected by.
She was looking at her hands.
He'd half-expected gratitude, the slightly breathless variety that tended to follow physical rescues, usually accompanied by wide eyes and a hand to the chest and some variation of you saved me.
Instead, what greeted him was a disconcerting combination of stillness and eyes that couldn't quite meet his. Disconcerting because he didn't know what to make of it...when his whole life, all the women he had known were like an open book to him.
But this girl, though...
This girl who was now his wife...
Was she acting? Or was this all real?
Olivio let his gaze move over her with the same methodical attention he applied to anything that required understanding. The single braid over one shoulder, dark hair, neatly done this morning and now coming undone in small ways she hadn't noticed—-a strand near her temple, another at the nape of her neck. His fingers registered the observation before his brain did and he redirected his attention immediately, the way he redirected everything that had no place in his current calculations.
The dress with its blue flowers, already catalogued, already absorbed.
The ivory of her complexion...it wasn't the warm ivory of someone naturally fair. It was paler than that even, like skin that had spent a long time indoors, or horizontal, or somewhere the sun couldn't reach. Like winter had gotten into her somehow and hadn't entirely finished leaving.
And on her left wrist, a smartwatch. Medical-grade, from the look of it. Not a fashion choice.
Chelsea struggled not to squirm at the way Olivio Cannizzaro was studying her with unusual intensity.
Honestly, she couldn't remember causing any man to stare at her like this, much less this long. It was making her overthink, her brain overrun with all sorts of pointless conjectures. Is he staring because I have something on my face? Is he staring because he can't get over how ordinary I look? Or is he staring because he's trying to find the right words to get rid of me without sounding like a jerk?
A part of her knew she was getting sillier by the moment, but that was mostly because a larger part of her was still reeling, with how her body was still tingling in the aftermath of having his hand briefly land against the small of her back as he led her away from the crowd.
She knew she was making herself sound more and more pathetic by the moment, but the truth was, no man had ever touched her like that before. Like...like he had a claim on her, with how his palm had settled on her cotton-covered skin like it had always been his.
And the way he had guided her...
That was new to her, too. In some ways, it reminded her of how her dad had been. Gentle and protective at the same time. But this man's touch, though...it was also underscored by an unmistakable sense of possessiveness, and that was why, even though he was no longer touching her, the warmth of that palm was still there, a phantom imprint on her spine that her nerve endings refused to let go of.
Am I getting crazy, Chelsea wondered dizzily, to be thinking all of these things...and all because he touched my back?
Never ever had she imagined that the simplest of touches could mess her up this bad. But then...maybe it was because this man was no ordinary man either.
Olivio Cannizzaro was way, way out of her league. He was just too gorgeous. Too scary. Too everything that was currently wreaking havoc over her heartbeat, and was it just her or was he still not done staring at her?
Granted, they were stuck in an elevator, and there wasn't much to look at. But seriously, though. Why was he still staring at her? It just didn't make sense, and even worse, it just made her so, so tempted to take a peek at him...even as it became harder and harder for her to breathe.
I get it now, she thought ruefully. Edgar had offered multiple times to show Chelsea photos of her "husband", but she had gently turned him down, every single time. He had been so insistent actually, and this was why.