Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128290 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 428(@300wpm)
Enzo flies from his seat, yanking my chair from under the table and tipping it back until I’m nearly sliding out upside down. He gets in my face, eyes wild and chest stretched wide. “That is never going to happen. You will never be free of me, I made sure of that the earliest moment I could. Now that you’re mine, now that my name is yours, and my ring is on your finger, that is what you’ll always be. Boston Fikile. Always a Fikile. Mine.”
I swallow. “You said that already.”
“I will say it every fucking day. Clearly you need me to, because you are not getting it through this pretty little head of yours.” His gaze travels over my face, falling and holding on my lips. “You are my wife. You will be and do all the things you agreed you would. What you will not do…is try to play me for a fool, because guess what, my sweet Boston,” he whispers, a slow, cruel smile covering his lips as he tips my chair back in place. “I’m keeping you either way.”
With that, Enzo storms off, and I spend the first night in our room alone.
It’s just after ten p.m. and we’ve been in the back of the Hummer for no less than twenty minutes, nothing but the sound of us breathing to be heard, when Enzo decides to break his little twenty-four-hour silent treatment.
“We’re going to Torin Bandoni’s club.” My head snaps toward Enzo but he keeps his frown on his phone.
I still have no idea why he was pissy in the first place, but whatever.
“Before you ask, yes,” he adds. “Bronx will be in attendance.”
A smile curves my lips, the boredom I was prepared for going out the window. I’m tempted to ask if this meeting with Torin “The Tracker” Bandoni is about what he told me the other day, but that would be too much like having a casual conversation, and that’s just not how our relationship is.
The only time we really talk is when we argue, so I just stay quiet.
I won’t deny, though, it is good to know Mr. Bandoni isn’t opposed to working with the man who wanted to take my father’s place before I slid in and, well, let him have his cake and eat it too.
Not that he’s eaten anything yet…
I swallow, looking out the window. Not the train of thought for me to be on today.
Or ever.
Get tossed into my husband’s room only to sleep without him.
It’s like teasing without a damn word, and now all I can think about is what it would be like to share that massive bed with him.
“I imagine I don’t need to tell you to keep the topic of Katana off the table.”
And just like that, homicidal energy has checked back in. “Yet here you are, doing it anyway.”
Enzo’s head turns my way, but I purposefully leave him to my profile, staring straight ahead. “You do realize I am your family now, so with me is where your loyalty lies.”
“I understand how loyalty works in our world, Enzo, and even if I didn’t, bringing up the girl I would like nothing more than to put down, is the last thing I’d choose to do.”
“She is of no threat to you, Boston.”
Slowly, I turn to face him. “No, she’s not.” I hold his gaze.
“But?”
“But I haven’t decided if you will be because I can promise you, if I decide she’s better off dead, she’ll be lucky if I make it quick.”
He watches me closely, a small frown building across his brow. “You can’t kill her.”
A slow smile spreads across my lips, and I let the low laugh creeping up my throat free. “You really think you could stop me?”
His jaw is set, and he opens it to speak, but just then the car rolls to a stop, so he clamps his mouth shut. Stepping out when they open the door, he reaches for my hand, gently easing me from the car. We walk up the steps, entering into the club where we’re immediately met with the loud bass of the house music and Bronx screaming my name from the upper level.
I look up with a smile and go to head her way, but Enzo grips my hand firmly, leading me up the stairs. He pauses there, at the threshold where the VIP boxes open up to the left, the private tables, where I can see Bronx’s dad sitting with a few others, to the right. Enzo turns me to face him, his hands sliding along my shoulders possessively, his eyes dark under the shadowed lights.
“You will be in my sight at all times.” He tips my chin up, his eyes never leaving mine as he leans down and brushes his lips over the edge of my mouth, slowly sliding them to my ear. “Behave, Little Bride.”