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)
“Emelia!” I yell, my face inches from hers, and my free hand comes up and punches the wall next to her head.
“Nico, I swear it. I know nothing. My father said this was a deal to end the war between you two. He feared you and knew his sons would be too weak to keep up the war. They would have died at your hands, and you would have taken over his outfit. So here I am, the treaty between two families. That’s all I know.”
I release her.
That’s real fear.
Even if her father has a plan of deception, why would he tell her that? Notelli treats his daughter worse than a rabid dog. Why would she know anything?
That doesn’t mean it hasn’t been his plan this entire time though. And if this is the case, when we uncover it and can prove it's true, will Emelia choose me or her family?
Because if she doesn’t choose me, she becomes the enemy.
And I need her to choose me.
If nothing but to make my victory even sweeter.
“Fine. We will invite your family to our place when we get home, and we will see just how true that is. I really hope your father isn’t fucking with my business, Emelia. That would be a shame, wouldn’t you agree?”
She gulps, rubbing at her neck.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“Louder, shoulders back, Emelia.”
“Yes. I said yes,” she hisses, and I step back, grabbing my things and moving to the master bathroom to get dressed.
“Be ready in an hour.” Shutting the door, I lean over the sink before bringing my face close to the mirror. My hands grip the lip of the counter hard. My face is red, the veins in my neck are protruding, and I can feel that burning feeling in my stomach, the need to take what calms me and brings temporary relief. The urge to hurt, to take someone and release that anger upon them, is bubbling hot inside me.
There is a part of me I keep cornered until I need to unleash it. I keep it dormant, reserve it, because once I let it free, it's unmatched, untouchable, and unstoppable.
I am the reaper, an unhinged madman with no regard for others. The most dangerous type of man there is, and I would hate for this to turn into a bloodbath.
I suddenly imagine Emelia covered in blood, and something else churns in my stomach, and I really look myself over.
What the fuck was that?
I brush it off, physically. I shake my head and turn on the scalding-hot water of the sink to splash it on my face, enjoying the pain and letting it rattle through me, all the way down to my bones.
Emelia isn’t anything more than an arranged marriage, a device I obtained to use in her father’s demise, and a really good fuck. That’s all she will ever be.
Unless she becomes my fucking enemy.
CHAPTER EIGHT
EMELIA
I have never felt so much fear in my life.
Why would he ask me that? I haven’t even tried to figure out the details my father demanded. This man has seen me so intimately, and yet he just showed me I am nothing to him in one glimpse.
I’m not falling in love, and I am no better than him, since I’m practically a spy planted in his life. But that look, the way his eyes blackened, the way he put my life in his hands just to show me that he has the power to keep it or end it, scared me more than knocking on death's door myself.
Being his wife only grants me immunity if I take his side and never betray him. But if I don’t betray him, that means going against my family. Yet again, I’m reminded I must decide who I would rather have kill me, my own father or the man I married.Either way, I’m dead. They both made that perfectly clear.
I don’t dare cry as I listen to the running water in the bathroom. If I do, it would show him my weakness and vulnerability, and the image I’ve portrayed as a strong, cold bitch in front of him is the only thing left to my name.
I was stripped of my rights, my future, my pride, and my fucking dignity. I won’t give up control of the most intimate parts of me that make me human.
I wipe at the tears and rush to my makeup bag to find my concealer and powder. The heat in my cheeks and the tears that fought me and lost have made me all blotchy. I pull my blonde hair back, slicking the front down and letting my curls fall loosely down my back. I cover my face with sunscreen, foundation, and concealer, trying not to do it too fast and with too much pressure, as that will only make my face redder.