Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“You heard me.” I steel my spine. “If you think you’re the only one who can whore around, think again.”
“What the hell are you yakking about?”
“I married a genius! Do you think I’m stupid? I can smell another woman on you!”
It seems to take him a little while to comprehend what I am saying, but when he does, to my great surprise, his lips tilt upwards into a delighted smile. The first real one I’ve seen and it makes him look as rakish as a sea-loving pirate.
“Are you jealous?”
“Jealous?” I spit incredulously. The man was unbelievable. “You must be joking. To assume I am jealous would be to presume I expected some commitment from you to me. Or for that matter from me to you. But for the record, I should make it clear that I am not in the least bit surprised, nor did I expect you to act any better. I knew who you were before this sham of a marriage. You're just like my father, you—”
“I am nothing like your father,” Valentino cuts me off, rising slowly. All the amusement is gone. His face is like thunder. There is a great distance between us, but as he unfurls to his full height, it suddenly feels like there’s not enough space in the room. “Your father was a coward, and he died at the mercy of his enemies like the shameless dog he was.”
I may not have liked my father, but I hate Valentino’s disrespect even more. “A shameless dog? How dare you speak ill of the dead? You think you’re different from him because you’re the great Don? Trust me, the similarities between you and him are inherent, look in the mirror and-”
Valentino moves fast. One second, he’s lying in bed all the way across the room, and in the next, he’s pressing me against the door, his fingers wrapped around my neck. Not tightly, but like bands of velvet… I can feel his rage on my skin.
Seconds pass or perhaps aeons. It feels like forever as I try to claw away his grip, but it’s like steel vices. Impossible to budge.
“The only reason you still have breath in your lungs is because of the ring I put on your finger,” he says softly, his eyes boring into mine. “But if you compare me to any of the Barbieri men, especially your useless father, one more time, I will bury you with your ring, so help me God.”
I must have been nine or ten years old when I started to hear the stories about the young stallion, Valentino Barone. I didn’t really understand what my family was all about, but I already understood the fear his name evoked in the hearts of men in my family. He was nicknamed Silent Night because of the strange silence in which he killed. He never spoke, he never gave any sound of warning. No threats, no curses, no taunts, no recriminations. The men he killed never suspected death was imminent until it was too late. Gossip has it that the things he’s done to secure power are things that cannot be said out loud.
But right now, as he stands before me, his eyes blazing fire and his fingers around my throat, there is no sign of the coldly controlled killer, and my body pulses with fear and desire. The ache for him is so strong I feel a wetness between my legs. This man is a criminal, even worse than my father so how can I stand here and enjoy his bloody hands on me? Out of shame for my wantonness, I push him away from me, but it is like pushing a brick wall.
“I am not one of the sissies you seem to enjoy running around with,” he drawls. “You must learn to watch how you speak to me. The umbrella of being my wife only covers so much.”
“Kill me then, and end this torment,” I dare him passionately, and at that moment I mean it too. “Being your wife is worse than death.”
A shadow crosses his eyes, but I don’t stop my verbal assault. I want to punish him for making me feel things I don’t want to feel.
“I will never love you, Valentino Barone. Or want you. My heart belongs to someone else and I will never come to care for you. How does that make you feel? Wait… are you even capable of feeling? I despise you so much I would rather save the life of a rodent in a sewer than yours. What does it feel like to know that the person who hates you the most is also who you gave your ring to? Is who you are also forced to protect, not because you want to, but just to save your reputation.”
He stares at me for a moment, then his eyes shutter and it becomes like impenetrable glass. “I’m not asking for your heart, Francesca.”