Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96514 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 483(@200wpm)___ 386(@250wpm)___ 322(@300wpm)
Another guard, a dark-haired man named Roman, appeared beside Marcello. He was tall with dark hair, dressed in a black suit. A gnarly scar ran down the side of his neck, dipping beneath his shirt. Roman whispered something to Marcello with his body angled away from me.
“What’s going on?” I asked Luca.
He stroked my cheek with his fingers. “Nothing you need to worry about. Go upstairs and paint in my mother’s studio. Get started on the fresco piece for my mother’s show.”
“But I thought you—”
“You’re not a prisoner in this house.”
“Luca, are you in trouble?”
He smirked, his fingers poking my side. “You worried about me, baby girl?”
Was I? Maybe. For as much as I hated his ass, I cared about him in my own way.
“Where are you going?”
He hugged me against his hard chest. “Paint something for me. Okay, pretty girl?”
“Stop manipulating me, Luca.”
He grabbed my shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “Just do this for me, Drea. Please.”
If Roman was watching me instead of Marcello, it was something dangerous.
“Be careful,” I whispered.
A cute dimple popped in his cheek. “Always.”
“You better come see me when you get home. We need to talk.”
“I don’t know when I’ll be back. We could be out until morning.”
Marcello’s phone beeped. “C’mon, Luca. We have to go. Now!”
“Fuck,” he growled, then kissed my forehead.
Before I could get in another word, Marcello tugged on Luca’s shoulder, leading him down the hallway. Damian and Bastian followed.
“Miss Wellington,” Roman said. “Can you follow me?”
I ignored him, unable to take my eyes off Luca and his brothers. They stopped at a locked room near the front door. I watched as Marcello pushed his way inside and came out with several guns. He passed them to his brothers as if they didn’t already carry enough weapons.
What the fuck?
My stomach churned with each step they took. Something was seriously wrong. Luca looked even more possessed than normal like he was ready to bash in someone’s skull. He stole a glance over his shoulder at me on his way out the door. His blue eyes were intense and focused.
I forced a smile, all while fighting my hatred for him. They left the house, armed and on a mission, and dread filled my belly, making me want to vomit my dinner on the floor.
My blood boiled as I slid into the passenger seat of Marcello’s Maserati. Rage was an emotion I felt often. It both comforted and consumed me. Throughout dinner, Alex glared at me every time my cell phone dinged with another message.
Pictures of Alex naked, some with her laying on my bed, were circulated on the dark web. In others, she wore skimpy lingerie, making suggestive gestures with her hands and mouth. There were even videos of her sucking my cock and a few where I fucked her from behind.
We’d made many sex tapes over the years, and the Albanians had the files from my phone. I thought we would find them before they used the photos against me. I couldn’t tell Alex, not until I handled the situation. Men from the criminal underworld's depths were asking the owners of Il Circo to add Alex to their next auction.
Like fucking hell.
“What’s the plan?” Marcello asked as he drove off our property with Bastian and Damian following in the Porsche.
“I don’t know yet.” I stared out the window, my jaw clenched. “One thing at a time. Just head toward the marina. We have to offload this shipment before we can worry about the Albanians.”
“This feels wrong,” he said as he drove into The Hills. “I don’t know… I think it’s a trap.”
“This isn’t our first shipment delay.”
Gripping the wheel, he took a hard turn around the bend. “The timing is convenient. We’ve been fielding threats for the past month. Then our European friends change their plans, throwing off our deals with the Sicilians. If we don’t find Kurti and his men soon…”
“He’s trying to sell Alex on the black fucking market. And it’s my fucking fault.”
“You fucked up,” he admitted. “But this isn’t your doing.”
I shook my head. “Kurti wants revenge for what we did.”
Last month, I met with new business associates from Albania. We needed to work with these men to further our future projects within the country. So I went to Berat, and they took me out for drinks, and before I knew it, I woke up in the bed at my hotel without my phone. The fuckers drugged me.
At first, it was a text message threatening to take Alex. Then they almost kidnapped her in Haven, so I had no choice but to strong-arm Wellington into bringing Alex back to Devil’s Creek to become my wife. It was better if she believed her precious Pops was in danger. He played his part so well, praying on her emotions. Because without our protection, she was as good as dead.