Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“You’ll have plenty of time to change your mind on the way to the safehouse,” he announces, voice growing closer indicating, he’s inching closer to her.
Despite the fact that I’m not there, that I can’t stop, my body naturally moves as though I can. I scoot away from Francesco causing him to gripe his displeasure at me once more until my weapon is unholstered.
“And if that doesn’t work then maybe watching the feds crash that charity ball will. Maybe seeing your new ‘friends’ and ‘husband’ hauled off in handcuffs will get your ungrateful ass singing a different tune.”
“I-”
“Let’s go!” Adam barks prior to Elle screaming for help.
The grip on my device becomes tighter and tighter the further away her cries get. As soon as I can no longer hear them, I chuck my cell across the room, sharply turn on my heels, and grab Mickie by the shirt. “Gus?”
“No answer.”
Most likely dead.
“Jaq?”
He momentarily hesitates. “No answer.”
Both of her security details aren’t answering, meaning there’s no one to stop that asshole from taking her.
The thrumming in my ears increases in intensity and severity alike. “Cancel the fish platter.”
“Boss-”
His ability to speak is cut off due to the barrel of my pistol wedged into space underneath his chin. “Cancel. The. Fucking. Platter.” Mickie’s eyes widen to new levels. “Cancel the fucking platter and help me find my fucking wife!”
This time there’s no reluctance to his response. “Yes, sir.”
Chapter Eight
Elle
The sudden change in terrain from smooth roads to ones less paved causes my face to seek out any light beneath the hood that my stepfather yanked over my head. While Adam had no suspicions that I had reached out to Nero, Drew had them all. They argued the entire drive to their rendezvous point with their father at which point, he ended the topic by shoving me into darkness, insisting that even if some sort of attempt had been made that it wouldn’t matter. They were switching cars. Changing directions. Going extra lengths to confuse possible tails that may have managed to lock onto them.
He wasn’t exaggerating.
My arm aches from the five times I’ve been tugged out of one vehicle only to be stuffed into another.
My toes and ankles hurt from kicking my body around in these glittery Jimmy Choo pumps Nero thought would match this gray business dress better.
My throat is raw from screaming for help to anyone who could hear me during our transportation transitions.
However, the throbbing that’s most unbearable is the one rooted deep in my chest, wedged between my heart and my soul.
Not knowing how far I am from Nero would be one thing.
Not knowing if I’ll ever see him again is an entirely other.
From the way those I’m forced to refer to as my family are talking, I’m beginning to believe more and more that our kiss goodbye this morning was our kiss goodbye for forever.
“Where are we headed?” I croak as the vehicle comes to a stop over bumpy gravel. “Hell, where are we now?”
“Somewhere safe,” Adam replies, his voice closer to me, indicating he’s seated at my side in the back of whatever vehicle we’ve been traveling in for this last stretch. “Trust me.”
I don’t.
I won’t.
Moments later, there’s shifting around prior to my door being opened. A soft rustling of wind caresses my covered face and ears alike. Being guided out of my moving prison is done by Adam – I’d know his cheap cologne anywhere – yet the settling of me on my stilettos is assisted by what I guess is my other stepbrother whose terrible B.O. is always a clear sign of where he is in a room.
I wonder if the DeLuca clan has any members in it like these two or if all the men are as incredible as Nero is.
I hate that I’ll never find out.
I hate even more that this fucked up trio of nightmares is the reason I don’t get to remain a part of a family that I actually want to be a member of.
“We’re fucking here,” Adam sighs in annoyance. “I should be able to take this shit off of her now, Dad. I’m tired of being her seeing eye dog.” There’s a short pause followed by an apology shot my direction. “No offense, Elle.”
Out of the two of us, he’s the one who should be offended for calling himself a mut.
“What if she starts lookin’ at shit? And tryin’ to remember shit to tell that twisted, murderous, motherfucker she thinks she loves?!” Drew barks back.
I know I love him.
Damn sure love him more than any of these idiots.
But I won’t say that.
No.
I’ll pretend to be the good girl they want me to be until Nero can find me or I can get access to another phone to help him. I’ll fake being completely defenseless in spite of the fact I’m pretty sure the lavish anklet that’s embellished in diamonds and one sapphire gem actually contains a cleverly hidden tracking device. I can still remember gawking at the twinkling jewels like it was yesterday instead of weeks ago after the locking of the door conversation. He made me swear to wear it day in and day out like my wedding ring, claiming it would help him feel like he was “always with me”. Sounded creepy and cryptic at the time, but I chalked it up to being his version of romantic. Reflecting on it at this very second, I’m hoping he was being overly protective and chipped me like an expensive poodle.