Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 137(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Her heart-shaped face revealed none of her thoughts, but even so.
Just looking at him had his heart clenching hard, and Lorenzo slowly found himself crouching down on one knee.
And there it was.
A flash of terror in her eyes, gone so quickly that if he didn't have years to hone his instincts, he would have been convinced he had only imagined seeing it.
She was terrified, and rightly so.
Life as she had always known it had come to its abrupt and untimely end, and none of them even knew how long it would take before it was the "right" time for her to return home.
He reached for her hands.
"I will keep you safe, wife."
She nodded.
"And one day, you will be with your family again."
Her gaze lifted to his.
But this time, instead of a turbulent shade of gray, her eyes were blue as the ocean, twin pools of trust that went far deeper than before.
"Thank you."
Her voice was soft and remarkably gentle, for someone whose childhood had been a bloodbath of murder and betrayal.
"I owe it to your grandmother. She's the reason I was pardoned."
Her lips parted in shock. "I didn't know."
"No one does," he said curtly. "All of this is your grandmother's idea. That's why you have no need—-"
She shook her head. "My grandmother had nothing to do with how you...helped me earlier. Or how you seemed to know what I need."
Ah.
"Giancarlo would not have liked it if I cried."
"Neither would I."
"No." Her swift agreement caught him off guard. "I rather thought you wouldn't have liked it either." And she proceeded to completely disarm him as a smile wobbled to her lips. "You remind me a lot of my brother."
"Then you're an idiot."
He was the Beast of New York while her oldest brother was, in many ways, a prince among thieves.
Giancarlo was a good man. And he was not.
Gazelle had to be stupid to think they were similar in any way, but telling her this didn't seem to have any effect on her.
"Maybe," she surprised him by agreeing once again.
But when he rose to his feet and offered to help her up, he heard her murmur, "Or it could be the other way around."
And it nearly had him tripping over his own feet.
What the hell?
Had his wife truly dared to say he could be the idiot between them?
Journal Entry
I take back every good thing I've said about Sarica.
Everything!
OUR famiglia's private jet has already been cleared to fly when we get to the airport, and from there, it's a ninety-minute flight back to New York. I'm worried it would get awkward between us, but my eyelids have already started drooping while I fasten my seatbelt.
When I wake up, it's to Lorenzo quietly saying we've arrived.
I sit up at once. "I'm sorry I fell asleep."
He only looks at me, and that look says everything.
Only an idiot would apologize for falling asleep.
I know I'm not imagining anything. I hear those words so clearly in my mind he might as well have said it out loud, and I feel offended and amused at the same time.
Everyone always talks about how the Beast of New York is terrifying, but why has no one ever talked about how annoying he is as well?
Also: why shouldn't I say sorry? It was our first flight as a married couple, and it was terribly inappropriate for me to fall asleep. Manners didn't just maketh a man, you know. It mattered to us women, too, and—-
What am I thinking about again?
I honestly can't remember. The moment Lorenzo reached for my hand, it was as if the heat of his touch had fried my brain cells, and all I could do was meekly follow his lead. I'm half-expecting him to lead us out of the airport, but instead, we end up boarding his chopper.
The next thirty minutes are a blur. The loud whip of the rotor blades doesn't just make conversation impossible. The way he's still holding my hand also consumes my every thought, and I'm unable to concentrate on anything else.
Is this normal?
My sisters-in-law all felt like this the first time they were with my brothers. But can I really compare myself to them? They all fell hard and fast for their arranged grooms, and vice versa. But Lorenzo and me?
My husband can't be in love with me, that much I'm certain of. I've been his to take for two years, but he's never even bothered to meet me. And as for my own feelings...
He's made an impact on me, yes.
But how do I know if it's really Lorenzo I'm reacting to and not the fact that he's the first man who's dared to hold the hand of La Strega's only granddaughter?
My phone suddenly buzzes in my pocket, and Lorenzo lets go of my hand when he sees me awkwardly reaching for my phone. The sudden loss of his touch makes me feel ridiculously empty, but I tell myself that's still not proof I'm attracted to him.