Total pages in book: 72
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 68628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 343(@200wpm)___ 275(@250wpm)___ 229(@300wpm)
He's hot though, I'll give him that. "You shine up nice," I mutter. I do give compliments where they’re due.
“I’ll treasure your compliment for the rest of my life,” he says, half-sarcastically. “You don’t look bad either. I guess that ten grand was worth it.”
“Oh yeah? Put some homely chick in this thing and see what she looks like. You need T & A for this beauty.”
He blinks in surprise.
That's what I thought.
Tosca hands me some flowers, her eyes dancing for some unfathomable reason. Nonna stands in the corner wearing her signature black dress, her hands folded behind her back. She’s also smiling, like there's some inside joke and I don't know the punchline.
I turn to Adriano. "Don't forget, dear, we have to send our pictures all over the country. We might as well look hot while we do it."
A woman in a blush-colored pantsuit stands in front of the two of us. I feel a little dizzy and hot, only vaguely aware of large vases of flowers and white chairs, the scent of coffee brewing and something savory cooking. I try to blur out the details. I don’t want to remember any of this.
To my shock and dismay, my hand trembles a little until Adriano reaches out and without a word puts his over mine to slow the trembling. It's almost a gentle gesture. His larger, warmer, much rougher hand meets mine as he laces our fingers together. I tense at the sudden intimacy of it, the sudden reminder of his strength and masculinity.
The next few minutes pass in a blur with vows and promises neither of us mean.
When I look at his hand on mine, I remember him wielding a gun. I remind myself that these strong, powerful hands belong to a killer.
No matter what, I can't ever forget that.
I remind myself I’m only acting in a play, except I don’t know how this one ends.
And then it’s over. People are congratulating us, pressing cards and gifts into our hands. Eden seems too far away for me to reach.
"Our ride is waiting,” my now—husband, oh my God—says. "Let's go."
"Where?”
"You'll see," he says with a smug look on his face.
Eden grips Sergio’s arm and gives me a tentative little wave.
“But they made all this food for us…” I don’t want to be alone with him.
Adriano reaches for my hand and pulls me over to him. With his mouth up to my ear he says in a heated whisper, “Rule number one. Never talk back to me. I promise that will land you in trouble."
My pulse spikes through the roof. Did he just threaten me?
The masochist in me is fist-pumping right now. Yes sir, dominate the fuck out of me.
No! The rational part of me is lecturing myself. I don't want him to dominate me.
Yes you do, yes you do, YES YOU DO!
I decide to do the wisest thing and wait until we’re alone to give him a piece of my mind.
"I see. So sorry, dear."
He grits his teeth and takes me by the elbow, escorting me to the door.
When we step outside, I'm not surprised to see a massive limo waiting for us. Holy shit, this thing is gorgeous… like a boat on wheels.
"You like to travel in luxury, don’t you?”
“I don't like to travel.”
Great. A billionaire who doesn’t like to travel. Does he amuse himself by counting his gold nuggets?
I need to come up with a plan of attack. My typical snark and sarcasm, while winning most people over, may not work on this dude.
We could just sort of ignore each other. Maybe that would work…
"Get in the car."
"Excuse me, husband.” Oh my God, gag me. “Were you talking to me?" He half closes his eyes and clenches his teeth as if he has to use every last nerve. Me? Lovable, easygoing me?
"I said get in the car, Quinn, before I have to force you."
I blow out a breath and gather up the skirts of my beautiful dress, shaking my head. "You know we don't have to be enemies."
"Oh yes, we do."
I slide inside onto the luxurious leather seat of the limo, lost amidst the swirl of lace and tulle and satin. "Hmm. We can be what they call frenemies."
"Frenemies? I don’t think that means what you think it means. A frenemy is someone who pretends to be your friend but is actually your enemy. Nope."
"Well, if you're going to suggest friends with benefits..." He holds his hand up in the air in front of my face and stops me mid-speech.
"I'm not going to suggest anything even remotely resembling a friend. You took vows to me. And I would hope that you would know what that means."
"Why don't you tell me what that means, darling?" I bat my eyelashes at him.
Leaning back, he glares at me. "It means you do what I say. It means you are to obey me. Remember those vows that you just took? The only part that's bullshit is the love. I absolutely expect you to honor and obey me. In turn, I'll make sure you have whatever the hell it is you need."