Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
There were moments, especially when he briefly shared a snippet of his life with me—one where his father and mother played the main characters of the story—that I saw something. A glimpse of pain? Disparage? The possibility of freedom from this life?
Who am I kidding? We are not free and never will be, and this marriage only solidified our destiny. Being in the mafia comes with one thing that is always guaranteed—you don’t know freedom. The chosen ones may have more privileges and can move about as they please, but it still comes with limitations and duties.
Then there are people like me who are born to be tools. We are the damned.
And right now, I can't tell which one Nico truly is. Is he really one of the chosen, or part of the damned?
The jet lands and I stand, reaching for my small overnight bag, and Nico snaps his fingers. I nearly tell him to pick someone else to snap at like a dog, when I look up and see he was actually doing it at one of the guards he brought to watch over us. The tall, blond-haired man rushes to me, takes the bag from my hand, and gestures for me to follow Nico. The second my body is blanketed by the hot sun, I smell the salt water and freshness of the air. You don’t get that in the city.
Nico descends first, his suit crisp and unwrinkled. You would think he just stepped into the expensive outfit and hadn’t spent hours sitting on a plane. My dress is white with thin straps that tie atop my shoulders, and the bodice is made up of lines and curves that mimic a corset. At my hips, it A-lines into a flowy sundress.
My hair is curled, and my makeup is light with sunscreen, mascara, and lip gloss. I knew we would spend most of our time on the sands of Greece and hopefully in the deep blue waters.
“Emelia?” His sharp voice whips through the wind, and I look at Nico.
“Sorry. Just taking in the view. In a rush or something?” I ask, continuing my descent.
“Yes, I would like to get to the yacht before I’m ancient.”
“A yacht? We’re in Greece. Don’t you think a resort would be more enjoyable?” So I won't be spending as much time on the beach as I thought. I'll be on a boat. Trapped at sea with a man I enjoy fucking and having small bouts of conversation with. Great.
“Safety, wife. The yacht will add an extra layer of safety for now. But I will make sure to take you to spend time on land, if you insist. Now, let’s move before dawn comes and we miss dinner.”
The time change will definitely kick my ass, but I won’t complain. I have always wanted to see Greece; therefore, I don’t mind losing some sleep. I will joyfully push through the heaps of exhaustion in order to see all the things this beautiful place has to offer. Besides, I believe they say the best thing for jet lag is to stay up until the next day starts, then sleep when night comes.
Maybe I made that up.
Who knows and who cares, because I’m in Greece!
Nico spends his time with his eyes glued to his phone, checking God knows what business, as I take in the city. We drive around the curves and bends of the mountain and into the small towns with uneven cobblestone roads and filled with locals. Our giant SUV could barely jolt to the left or right and cause havoc, and the driver is clearly aware of that, because he drives with steady caution.
Looking over at Nico, my eyes narrow and I click my tongue. “You know, if you look up, you would see and possibly enjoy what all that business on your phone buys you. You’re missing the sights.”
He releases a deep breath, giving me a sideways glance before locking his phone and looking up.
“I’ve been here before. I have seen enough. And money isn’t a worry of mine, Emelia, if you can’t tell.”
Shaking my head, I look out the window when we pass an alleyway. There are children kicking a ball around, and I smile over the simplicity.
“You know, there is this thing that men have been programmed to believe.” I wait.
He huffs. “Great, let’s hear this one.”
I smirk discreetly.“That all women are wowed by money. That power and expendable amounts of money make us go all weak in the knees. That’s a lie. Made up by men—for men.”
“So, my money and my experience in this world doesn’t get that beautiful cunt just a little wet?”
Any other man could say that word to me, and I would cringe, but he says it so smoothly, almost like it’s a word he invented to describe the beauty of a woman, and I nearly purr. Twisted, no?