Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Her jaw thrusts forward in anger as she sets her fork down. “No.”
“No to which?”
“Both.”
She answers immediately, sending another surge of satisfaction blasting through my chest.
“You want me to remain faithful?”
She narrows her eyes to a murderous gaze.
I want to push her into complying with my demands, but I suspect she hasn’t been sufficiently tempted yet.
“You won’t leave this yacht until you’ve spread those pretty legs for me. But I understand you’re still angry. I’ll give you a week, Principessa. A week to get used to your change in husband. After that, if you’re still making me wait, I will be giving my attention to another woman.”
Dahlia looks ready to throw her food in my face. “And if…if I have let you…”
I enjoy watching Dahlia struggle to find the words, but let her off the hook. “If I have a legitimate wife, I will be faithful to her.”
I swear to Christ, I watch Dahlia’s neck grow longer, her back straighter, like a flower that just found light.
“You would be a faithful husband.” I hear disbelief in the statement.
I nod. “I just married a beautiful woman. Why would I stray?”
I know she likes my words because she flushes as she picks up her forks and resumes eating.
“I do intend to teach my wife all manner of pleasure,” I tell her casually, like sex isn’t a taboo subject at the dinner table. “I’ll find what makes her squirm.”
Dahlia squirms.
“What makes her scream.”
Her thighs clamp together.
“I’ll figure out what gets her excited and make sure she gets a dose of it every day.”
She guzzles the rest of her champagne. “That’s, um…that’s very bold of you.”
“It’s not bold for a man to want to keep his wife satisfied. I will provide for you, Dahlia. Keep you in the same manner you’ve become accustomed to living. I’ll give you what you need in bed and be faithful to you.”
I say nothing of my own satisfaction for the moment. Once she’s surrendered herself to me, I will make my demands. Until then, she requires a lighter touch.
“Naturally, I expect the same respect in return. You touch another man, and he dies. Remember that before you curse a man to his death.”
Dahlia
Antonio gives me a chilling smile, and a shiver runs up my spine at his threat.
I believe him. I believe this man is a killer. I shudder to think of the crimes he's committed. The darkness that surrounds him.
And he wants my name to be attached to his for the rest of our lives.
No, thank you.
No way.
I have to find a way out of this.
I toss my napkin over the plate and stand. My dramatic exit is diminished greatly by the fact that I’m naked and, therefore, have nowhere to go.
But my suitcase should’ve been brought to the yacht yesterday in preparation for our honeymoon. I pull open one of the drawers and find my clothing neatly folded and put away. I pull out a pair of panties.
Antonio tsks. “We’re working on obedience, Principessa. I didn’t say you could wear panties.”
I’m too cowed by him at the moment to put up a fight, so instead, I throw the panties on the floor like a spoiled child and stalk into the bathroom.
I could use a shower, anyway.
I need to wash this day off of me. Get my bearings. Figure out my next move.
I shut the door and lock it and take the world’s longest shower. When I’m finished, I take another half an hour to brush out my hair, apply lotion, and generally stall.
I half-expect Antonio to demand I come out or demand admittance, but he leaves me alone.
Finally, when I’ve grown sick of the small quarters, I emerge with a towel wrapped firmly up to my armpits.
The dinner table and champagne bucket have been removed.
Antonio lounges on the bed with his ankles crossed reading a newspaper. He’s still in his tuxedo pants, but the tie is gone, and his crisp white shirt is unbuttoned at the collar. I hate how devastatingly handsome he looks.
This man is a thug who spent time in prison, yet he looks every inch the aristocrat. I hate to admit it, but he embodies “Yacht King” so much more than my father did. I imagine he will run a ruthless business. Probably get us back into the black.
Us. I don’t know why I’m saying us.
It’s not my family’s business anymore, and I’m not sticking with Antonio to make it mine through him.
“Are you sleeping in here?” I ask doubtfully. I mean, I guess that’s obvious. He’s my husband. We share a bed. He wants to consummate.
It’s just that I hadn’t considered how it would feel to climb under the covers–naked–with this extremely good-looking, muscular, and well, virile man.
Not that I’m tempted to consummate.
I’m not.
It’s just…awkward to say the least.
Antonio uncrosses his ankles and sets the newspaper down on the bedside table. He stands from the bed and throws the covers back. “Are you ready for bed, darling?”