Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
They stare at her blankly, stalled mid-step in their black uniforms.
“I’ve been kidnapped! I need help! Call the police, call the FBI, call—” She shouts and screams, and kicks wildly as I enter her space, gripping her waist, flinging her over my shoulder.
The scent of her cunt hits my nostrils like a gut punch, and I almost double over. But I would never drop her.
“They belong to me,” I tell her, waving the two women on. “Everyone here belongs to me. They understand loyalty.”
“You bitch!” she screams toward one of them, making me chuckle.
“Now, now, that’s not very nice. You need to calm down. All this stress can’t be good for our baby, wife.” I start walking back to the room, then notice the blood on her knee. “How the fuck did this happen?” I demand, touching it with a fingertip.
“What the fuck do you care? You cut me, you bastard. You practically split me in two with your dick more than once. What’s a little more blood?”
I carry her into our suite, then slam the door closed as I sit her on the edge of the bed and drop to my knees. She tries to kick at me, but I dodge it easily, rubbing my thumb across her knee.
“Ow! That hurts!”
I grunt an acknowledgment, then head to the bathroom and grab the first aid kit. She’s still where I left her when I return, and that makes me happy. She’s learning that running isn’t an option.
As I drop to my knees again and start cleaning the wound, she huffs.
“I fell, okay? While I was running for my life. From you.”
“That can’t happen again, you hear me?” I look up and meet her glaring eyes. “You are my wife now. I’ve fucked a baby into you, I’m sure of it. You can’t take that away from me, I won’t allow it. I’ll never let you go, Little Lamb. Never.”
There are red roses all around us. Dozens upon dozens. The scent of them is almost overpowering.
“There,” I tell her. “All fixed up. What do you say?”
“Thank you,” she mutters with an eye roll.
“Thank you…?”
“Thank you, your highness.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I stand and take her head in my hands, kissing her hair. “That’s not right, daughter. What do you call me?”
My hands stay where they are on either side of her face, tilting her head back so that she’s looking up at me. Those enormous, glassy eyes are so beautiful, so innocent.
And she’s learning. She’s learning to give me what I want, because after a moment she says the words.
“Thank you, Daddy.”
A little shiver runs through her body as she speaks, her lips moist and glistening. She may not believe it, but her body is eager. Her nipples are standing at attention, calling out for my mouth. Her pussy is wet, the scent mingling with the smell of the flowers.
“Good girl,” I tell her, and get rewarded with a soft sigh of resignation. “See, isn’t it better when we’re not fighting?”
She nods, however reluctantly, and opens her mouth, ready to speak but saying nothing.
“Go ahead, daughter wife, tell me anything.”
“I’m hungry. I need real food, not just your charcuterie snacks.”
I grin. “That’s a girl. What do you say I order a deep-dish pizza? Double pepperoni and jalapeños, just like you like.”
She nods, and I grab my phone. Whatever my girl wants, that’s what she gets.
CHAPTER 11
Bijou
A cool breeze moves the curtains and tickles my bare ass, turned upwards on top of the bedsheets. I imagine that I can still feel the sting of the knife where he carved my skin, but it would be impossible to feel air touching a cut, wouldn’t it?
Ramses is asleep. I know because he hasn’t moved for an hour while I’ve laid here, pondering my fate and my sanity.
He sleeps entirely silent and still, only the faintest whisper of breath if you get up close. No nightly noises, no snoring, no tossing and turning. Somehow, I get the feeling it’s deliberate, that he’s disciplined himself to make no sound or movement while he sleeps so that enemies aren’t aware of his presence.
“I love you,” I murmur, trying out the words. They echo in the silence, sounding so loud to my ears. Even the city seems to keep quiet so my stepfather—and now husband—can sleep. “I love Ramses Maurizio Alexander Moreno. The fourth,” I add with a wry smirk.
“Is that so, daughter?”
Fucker.
As he turns, propping himself up effortlessly on one elbow, I wonder how long he’s been awake. I glare in the half-light seeping in from under the doorway, then soften as I remember when he used to force Mom to let me have the light on in the hall because I was scared of the dark.
She would tell him I was old enough to get used to the dark. He would ignore her and make sure I felt safe.