Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118245 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 591(@200wpm)___ 473(@250wpm)___ 394(@300wpm)
God, I was going to love having her as a wife. Life would never be boring with my adorable little dove around. Although right now, my little dove was like an indignant bird with ruffled feathers.
I shook my head. “You can’t help it, can you, babygirl?”
Although I wasn’t a patient man, it was clear I would have to learn to be one if I was going to break through years of her being told she was the lesser of the two sisters.
Shoving her hair out of her face, she gave me a half smile. “Sorry.”
I gathered her into my arms and kissed the top of her head. “It’s okay. I get it.”
My arm swept under her knees, and I lifted her into my arms, walking over to the edge of the oval whirlpool tub and sitting down with her on my lap. “This time you’re going to let me finish without interrupting.”
She opened her mouth and started to speak.
I placed a finger over her lips. “Without interruptions,” I repeated firmly.
Her lower lip protruded in a pout as her brow furrowed. “Fine.”
“I was trying to make the best of a shitty situation. And then I met you. And fuck… you were so goddamn sweet and intelligent and thoughtful. I just wanted to pick you up and put you in my pocket.”
Her cheeks bloomed with a pretty pink blush. “That’s not true,” she whispered.
I tapped the end of her cute nose again. “I promise I’m not lying. From that moment on, whenever I interacted with you while you were pretending to be Antonia, I would see the tiniest glimpse of the real you.”
Her soft skin caressed my palm as I cupped her cheek. “And you do not know how fucking badly I wanted it to really be you. So badly, I convinced myself that your sister was just acting as this crass, selfish bitch out of necessity. That she was just going through the motions for your father.”
She laughed as she put her head on my shoulder. “No, trust me. It’s not an act.”
The moment she said it, her head popped back up and she covered her mouth with her hand. With wide eyes, she gasped, “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“Why not? It’s true.”
Ella shook her head. “No. She’s in trouble right now and depending on me and here I am making fun of her. I’m a horrible—”
“Unless you want another spanking, I suggest you don’t finish that sentence.”
Her head fell back onto my shoulder. “What are we going to do now?” she whispered.
Tightening my arm around her waist, I leaned back and turned the tub's brass faucet on. With the tips of my fingers, I checked the water temperature before plugging the drain. “Right now, you’re going to get a bath.”
“But I don’t want—”
“That’s an order. You’re going to be sore from earlier and a bath will help.”
The tub filled quickly. I rose and placed her on her feet. Gently pulling the towel away, I saw the dirty smudges I had left on her pristine skin. Although I should’ve felt like a real asshole, I didn’t. There was something crazy sexy about having my handprint on her breast. It was almost a shame to let her wash it off.
I held her hand as she stepped over the tub ledge and sank into the warm water.
After selecting a glass vessel with a pearlescent liquid, I pulled off the stopper and tipped it under the faucet stream. Then I hit the button for the whirlpool jets.
Shimmering white bubbles rose in large fluffy clouds, rising to the top of her shoulders.
“Ahhh! You put too much soap! The bubbles will flow over the edge,” she cried out with laughter, flattening her palms over the soapy mounds to tamp them down.
I washed my hands in the sink, concentrating on scrubbing the grime off my right hand, then tossed some water over my face and chest before grabbing a hand towel. “That is what towels and mops are for. Enjoy your bath. Don’t let me see you out of it until I return.”
As I turned to leave, she grumbled under her breath. “Fine, Mr. Bossy.”
“I heard that,” I called out over my shoulder before leaving the bathroom. Snatching a fresh shirt from a drawer, I tossed it on before picking up my mobile and padding barefoot down the hallway to my Aunt Gabriella’s suite of rooms.
It took several moments to get my bearings in her vast walk-in closet. Eventually, I found a fuzzy pink sweater and a pair of what looked like short black pants that looked like they would come close to fitting my girl. I then selected several more items. I knew Aunt Gabbie wouldn’t mind.
It had become a running joke in our family about her wardrobe becoming public property for our girls.
Next week, I’d take Ella shopping in Rome. She’d probably like that.