Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 488(@200wpm)___ 391(@250wpm)___ 326(@300wpm)
New York spreads out before me—breathtaking and completely different from anything I’ve known. Millions of windows twinkle with light, the skyline is alive and restless. The view steals my breath. It’s beautiful. Wild. Free in a way the old estate even with those endless fields I loved never was.
I run myself a bath, steam rises in lazy curls, filling the room with warmth. The water pours hot and fast, scented faintly with something clean and floral—jasmine and bergamot—from the built-in dispensers. I watch the water swirl, and steam, the surface shimmering under the soft recessed lights. Then I slip out of my dress, step in, and lay back with a sigh.
The wonderful heat envelops me instantly, sinks deep into my muscles, and loosens the knots I’ve carried all day. I rest my head against the curved edge, eyes half-closed. The water laps gently against my collarbone, and city lights outside the window glow through the mist—soft, dreamlike. I let my arms float, fingers trailing through the water, feeling the tension bleed out of me one slow breath at a time.
This is my new life now.
It went from one thing to another at the speed of light, but so far, it seems… almost magical. In ways I didn’t expect. I never expected him to be patient. Or attentive. I was prepared to leave after the first year. Take the money and disappear for good. Maybe move to Mexico or Europe. But now? Who knows? Maybe I’ll stay longer. The thought feels safer than it should, because this tenderness and attention could turn out to be temporary. What’s that saying? Familiarity breeds contempt. But I will deal with that when it comes. For now… I’ll just enjoy my new life without Salvatore.
My eyes grow heavier. The warm water is soothing and rhythmic. The city lights blur softly through the steam-covered windows. Exhaustion pulls at me—deep and overwhelming. All the stress since Salvatore died. I should get out of this bath…
But before I can fight it, my lashes flutter down, and I drift off, the bath still steaming around me, my body finally letting go.
Chapter Twenty-Four
RICCI
Iwait in the living room and feel restless as hell.
The penthouse is soundproofed from the low hum of the city far below or the sound of constant sirens. I force myself to sit on the leather sofa, elbows on my knees, fingers steepled. I swore I wouldn’t force her and I’m not going to, but I really can’t wait any longer. The need to see her, to be near her, is crawling under my skin like a swarm of fucking insects. I leap up and sprint up the stairs.
The hallway is dimly lit, soft recessed lights casting long shadows across the dark wood floors. I move quietly until I see the light from underneath one of the bedrooms. I knock once.
There is no response so I push the door open and step inside. The room is empty, but I see her purse on the bed. I cross the bedroom and quietly pull open the door to the en-suite bathroom.
Ah…
Asleep in the bath.
It is like an enchanted scene from a fairytale. Steam curls lazily through the air, thick and fragrant with jasmine and something I don’t recognize. The marble tub glows under the low lights, water still rippling gently around her body. Her features have softened completely in sleep—lashes dark against her cheeks, lips slightly parted, the usual guarded tension gone from her brow. Her blonde hair is wet, clinging to her shoulders and the edge of the tub in damp strands, glistening like threads of gold. Her skin… God, her skin is slick and luminous, flushed from the heat, droplets sliding slowly down the curve of her throat, over the swell of her breasts, disappearing into the water. She looks vulnerable. Ethereal. So breathtaking I forget how to breathe for a second.
I watch her for a long moment, heart pounding so hard I feel it in my throat. I can’t look away. Every inch of her is laid bare to me—slim waist, the gentle flare of her hips, the way the water ripples just below her collarbone—and all I want is to memorize her like this. She looks so peaceful and I almost can’t believe she is mine.
Then, as though she feels the weight of my stare, her eyes flutter open.
She wakes with a start, body jolting upright in the water. Fear flashes across her face—raw, instinctive—widening those green eyes, making her breath catch sharply. Water sloshes over the edge of the tub.
“You fell asleep,” I say softly. “I came in search of you.”
She recovers quickly, blinking, chest rising and falling faster now, arms crossing instinctively over her breasts. I shut the door behind me with a quiet click, sealing us in the warm, steamy room. The air becomes charged.