Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
He arched an eyebrow in a way that was condescending but did nothing to detract from his dark good looks. “Well it’s sure as hell not mine.”
Picking the little satchel up, I breathed deeply. The bath salts inside smelled of sweet lemon and reminded me of Jana’s cake. Someone must’ve meant it as a gift for me, probably Stefano or even Jana. Whoever it was, I didn’t want them to incur Massimo’s wrath, too. “Sorry, I must’ve accidentally left it in there.” I’d been really careful about not leaving my toiletries in there, since it—like the bulk of the suite—was so clearly his space, not mine.
“Don’t do it again.”
Despite the way he glowered at me, anger spiked inside me. “It’s my bathroom, too. You wouldn’t let me use the other ones, remember?” The other day, he’d caught me coming out of a bathroom down the hall and scolded me for not using the one in his room.
“I remember. But I didn’t tell you you could turn it into a beauty salon. Don’t bring that crap in here anymore.”
I blinked back tears. Massimo was in a rotten mood, and probably had been since before I ran into him. But still, it hurt. Did he have to act so hateful?
“Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Don’t cry.”
“I can’t help it.” I sank down, perching on the edge of the bed.
“Try harder.” He leaned against a chest of drawers.
The tears flowed faster. “Maybe you could try not to be so mean.”
He looked over my head at the wall behind me. “I’m not trying to be mean.”
I couldn’t help echoing his words. “Try harder.” As soon as I said it, I knew it was a mistake. I could barely bring myself to look up at Massimo, and when I finally did, he looked furious.
“Watch your words.” His voice was ice-cold.
“I’m sorry.” I’d had to say that a lot to my father. He loved me—deep down—but he hadn’t been a very easy man to live with. But him, I’d known. Massimo, I didn’t, and he was scaring me right now.
“If you’re going to keep crying, do it somewhere else.”
I got to my feet immediately. Leaving was definitely the best option at the moment. But once in the hallway, I didn’t know where to go. I’d never been in Stefano’s room. I wanted to go there very much, but it didn’t seem like the smartest move given how angry Massimo was today.
The little hideaway upstairs was the next obvious place, but I’d never been in there when Massimo was home. If he found out I went up there, it wouldn’t feel like a safe space anymore. And it was already my favorite room in the house. I loved to take an afternoon nap up there. It was so much easier to sleep when there wasn’t a powerful, naked man in a bed ten feet away.
Instead, I went to the library. Grabbing a book off a shelf at random, I curled up in an armchair, pulling my feet up. I stayed there for at least an hour, occasionally turning a page but not taking any of it in.
10
LEILA
The next morning at breakfast, I could barely look at my fiancé. He didn’t seem very interested in looking at me, either. He was on his phone for most of the meal.
Stefano kept throwing concerned looks my way, but I avoided his eyes. Sometimes when I was upset, kindness could make me tear up, too.
In the end, it was Carmine who made me feel better. After he’d polished off an enormous plate of pancakes and two cups of coffee, he cleared his throat and looked at me. “I’m still hungry.”
In spite of my mood, I blinked at him. “Really?”
“Really. And do you know what I’m hungry for? Those ridiculous little powdered cookies they sometimes serve at a wedding boutique.”
It took me a moment to process his words, and then I smiled.
“Want to help me hunt some down this afternoon?”
“Absolutely.”
“Great. I’ll come get you around three.”
“Thanks.”
Stefano caught my eye, and we exchanged smiles.
My fiancé didn’t even look up from his phone.
“Ready to move onto the next one?” Carmine asked when I was back in my regular clothes. As usual, he looked huge and out of place amid the bright, feminine showroom.
“Yes.”
I hadn’t really found any dresses I loved, but just trying them on had lifted my spirits. It was nice to wear beautiful clothing and to look like a princess in the mirror. I hadn’t shown any of them to Carmine, though. I still hadn’t quite processed what had happened with that one slinky, low-cut dress.
As usual, when we got to the sidewalk, Carmine kept his hand on my arm and swept his eyes over our surroundings. But unlike last time, he wasn’t the driver. There was another man who pulled up in the black SUV. Carmine said that this was because the shops on Michigan Avenue didn’t have street parking.