Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
I’ve thought that a million times.
“If not for you, do it for me. I need you.” She licks her chattering lips. “Please don’t leave me. Run away and marry me.”
I cup her face and let out a long breath, knowing I have a choice to make. And I know it’s the right one. “I meant it when I told you I loved you, Haven. More than anything in this world.” Her eyes light up with newfound hope. “And, of course. I’ll do it for you. For us.”
_______________
Present
I lied to her.
It’s easy to feed someone lies when you know they’re starving.
Right then and there, I told her I’d be back the following day to get her. That I had some contacts I could call, and that we needed twenty-four hours to get our stuff together to get out of the country. In order to spend the rest of our lives together, we’d need to spend the night apart.
Three hours later, I boarded a private jet with a heavy heart. It was the best thing to do at the time. We wouldn’t have been able to run and live the life I wanted us to have. I was called to serve, and no one runs from the Mafia. Not even Luca Bianchi. They would have skinned me for my betrayal. It would have been painful. I’ve seen it done, and I would have ended up in a shallow grave after a week of enduring the torture.
But Haven? My father might have taken her in as his own personal whore. Or sold her off to his best friend. Or even worse, handed her over to my brothers. I couldn’t have done that to her. So I lied. I hurt her, knowing I’d have to win her back when I returned. Things aren’t the same since I left for Italy. I’m no longer a boy trying to fight the inevitable. I’m a Bianchi, and the Bianchis live and die by the code.
Standing here in her bedroom watching her stare at me with hatred and fear won’t deter my plans. I knew this day would come. Even if I had to rip up the floor underneath her feet and carry her out kicking and screaming, she would be mine.
CHAPTER TWO
HAVEN
HE REACHES FOR my hand. I go to pull it away, but he’s faster. He yanks me out of my room and up the stairs. I feel my chest tighten as we walk down the hallway. I know where we’re going, and I dig my running shoes into the floor to try to stop us.
It doesn’t work.
Coming up to the door I barged through earlier, he places his large hand firmly on the small of my bare back. Opening the door, he pushes me in. I come to a quick stop as three sets of eyes look at me.
“There’s the bride-to-be.” His father smiles at me.
My stomach drops at his words. Like an anchor out in a bottomless ocean, pulling me deeper and deeper into the dark water, unable to get a breath. The light from the sky above gets dimmer with every second.
“Haven,” my father says my name.
My watery eyes go to his, and he doesn’t look the least bit sorry. Or worried. “Why?” I croak out. My family knows how much Luca leaving destroyed me. My mother tried to distract me with expensive things, but my father just avoided it completely.
He tilts his head to the side, looking at me with concern as if I’m about to have a nervous breakdown. I think the situation warrants it. I wonder if he would place me in a mental facility if I refuse to do this? Can a father do that to a daughter when she’s legally an adult? I’m sure he could. But a straitjacket and a padded room would be better than being a Bianchi. Better than serving out a life sentence with a man I hate because he made me a fool.
“I already told you. Money.”
I turn to see Matteo is still leaning up against the wall by the door. His black eyes, that match his father’s, drop to my chest again and then my stomach. I wrap my arms around myself, hating how exposed I am. I should have changed while I was in my room.
A firm hand grabs my upper arm, spinning me around. I look up to see Luca glaring down at me. He shrugs out of his leather jacket and places it over my shoulders. I quickly shove my arms into the warm sleeves, thankful for the cover even if it does swallow me. My eyes fall to the gun holster that rests on his shoulders and the black .380 that sits in its place. I’m not afraid of guns because I was raised around them. My father is always carrying and so is my mother. Plus, being so close to the Bianchis, they always had bodyguards around who were armed.