Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132498 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 662(@200wpm)___ 530(@250wpm)___ 442(@300wpm)
I might look pretty, but I want to gag. Even though I recognize the girl in the mirror, she’s not me.
A knock sounds at the bedroom door.
Helen’s voice floats through, tight and formal. “Miss Victoria. They’ve arrived.”
They. Who the hell is they? Did he bring the rest of the mob? I hope not. I’m not sure I can handle that. One criminal is enough for me.
My mother grabs my shoulders. “Remember your manners.”
I shrug her hands off. “He ruined us. You sold me. What’s the etiquette for that, exactly? Do I curtsy?”
Her jaw clenches, but she doesn’t respond.
Good.
I follow her down the hallway, my heels clicking with each step. The house smells fantastic. It appears father is trying hard to impress Lorenzo because he pulled out all the stops.
Speaking of the asshole . . . when we reach the dining room, my father stands right outside the doors, hand clamped around a decanter of scotch.
That’s great, Dad. Perfect time to get sloshed.
But why should today be any different? Just because we have a Mafia guy in our house who wants to kill us.
Yes, please . . . Let’s continue with business as usual.
He looks like shit. His collar is too stiff, as is his tie, but it’s his bloodshot eyes that really give him away.
“You’re late.” He glances at me and then looks away just as fast.
I fold my arms across my chest. “You scheduled a family dinner to celebrate selling me. Forgive me if I didn’t rush.”
His jaw flexes. “This arrangement will save us.”
“At my expense.”
“That’s enough,” my mother hisses. “Please. Don’t do this here.”
“Where then?” I ask, voice low. “Or better yet, when? During the vows?”
Before anyone can answer, the dining room door opens, and one of the members of the staff bows slightly. “The room is ready.”
It’s now or never.
We step inside.
The dining table is set like a stage, with crystals gleaming and candles flickering.
Oxygen explodes from my lungs as I see the room isn’t empty.
At the far end, in my father’s usual chair, sits the man who stole everything from me.
Lorenzo wears a black shirt open at the throat, tattoos teasing his collar.
His rings catch the candlelight as he lifts a glass, the metal glinting.
If I think there’s a chance I’ll be able to walk in without catching his attention, I’m instantly proved wrong. Because as soon as I step inside the room, his gaze finds me instantly. For a moment, everything goes quiet.
He rakes his eyes over me slowly—not hungry, not soft. Assessing. Cataloging the girl he once knew against the woman he now owns.
His mouth curves, and it’s not in a smile that forms on his full lips. It’s something colder.
Shit.
This is not good.
The room begins to spin.
Get it together, Victoria.
Don’t fall on your face. You can’t appear weak.
“Little Bird.” Lorenzo’s voice is as smooth as an expensive whiskey. “You clean up nicely.”
I lift my chin, forcing my feet to move, each step measured. “You’re in my father’s chair.”
He leans back, casual and powerful. “Oh, princess. I’m in everyone’s chair.”
The man beside Lorenzo snorts under his breath, swirling his drink. Who is this asshole? One of his hired goons?
My father clears his throat like he wants to reclaim some authority he hasn’t possessed in weeks. “Please. Sit, Victoria.”
I slide into the chair opposite Lorenzo, my parents flanking me. The candles flicker between us, casting shadows across his face. If this weren’t bad enough, now he looks downright deadly.
Great, I love this for me.
A server pours wine, and another brings plates, but Lorenzo . . . he just watches me.
The asshole sitting beside Lorenzo, and whose name I still haven’t gotten, breaks the tension first, lifting his glass toward my parents with a lazy half smile. “Thank you for hosting us. It’s not every day I get to attend a secret wedding.”
Secret wedding?
Why is it a secret?
And by secret . . . what does that mean?
My mother’s laugh comes out brittle. “We’re . . . honored to have you.”
Lorenzo taps his fork against his plate, the metallic ring slicing through the room. “Relax. I only commit arson when it’s necessary. So have no fear, now that I’m getting what I want, you’re perfectly safe . . . well, unless Victoria chooses to disobey.”
My father chokes on his wine.
“And we should believe you?” I stare at him across the table. “You burned down our factory, and don’t even get me started on the rest of what you did.”
Lorenzo’s gaze slides to mine, amused. “Allegedly.”
“Allegedly? You admitted to it.” My fingers tighten around my fork. “You called it leverage.”
He shrugs, unbothered. “Semantics.”
Dessert forks clatter softly as the staff reset the table between courses. No one has touched the food yet.
Who could possibly have an appetite right now? His friend, that’s who. He’s currently lifting his fork to his mouth.