Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92873 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 464(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“Yes,” he drawls. “You made that clear.”
Lifting my chin, I ask, “Do we have a deal?”
He comes closer. “What if I say no?”
I hold his gaze bravely, without blinking. “Then you’re on your own tonight.”
He narrows his eyes. “I’ll drag you to that ballroom if I must.”
“Oh, I’ll come. Just don’t expect me to pave the way for you. Isn’t that why you brought me? To smooth-talk Mr. Powell? To do something useful with my family name?”
“Sabella.”
I ignore the warning that’s clear in the way he says my name. “Deal or no deal?”
An unfriendly smile curves his lips. “You drive a hard bargain.”
“If it doesn’t work out at the local school, you can try the other one. At least then you’ll know. What do you have to lose? The way I look at it, the only thing you’ll miss out on if you decline my proposal is a chance at putting that deal to bed.”
“Fine,” he grumbles. “I suppose you’ll make an effort if I dangle a carrot in front of your nose.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say, keeping my head high as I grab the clothes bag with the gown and the portable suitcase with my toiletries on my way to the bathroom.
I only blow out a breath when I lock myself in. The door in the bedroom slams hard enough for the sound to reach my ears. Will it always be like this? Will the sight of my face alone be enough to ignite my husband’s anger? Will I always see the distaste in his eyes when he looks at me? The answer to all those questions is yes. Yes, because I know what I feel when I remember what he did.
I shake off the hurt, reminding myself of my promise to make my own happiness. It’s more difficult than I thought, especially with such a controlling husband.
While I get ready, I ponder his decision to send Sophie away. He’s good with her. I do believe he has her best interest at heart. I understand why he wants to spare her any potential teasing. Ignoring the problem won’t make it go away though. Addressing it is the only way to make it disappear forever. Sophie has to learn to stand up for herself. The other kids have to learn to accept her. I’m confident she’ll earn not only the people’s respect but also their liking. And if anyone has a problem with her, they’ll have to go through me first.
As I step into the red dress, I think back to how Angelo behaved with Sophie. He’s different with her, kind and gentle. It’s beautiful. I like watching him with her. It reminds me so much of my dad that tears spring to my eyes. What kind of a father will Angelo make? Hold on. What am I thinking? Children will never be in the cards for us, not with the life we’re leading. Pushing the notion away, I focus on applying my make-up and doing my hair.
When my husband knocks on the bathroom door forty-five minutes later, I’m ready. I give my reflection a last once-over in the mirror. The red dress is made of a light material that glimmers softly. The cut is tight-fitting, dipping low in both the front and the back. It’s impossible to wear a bra, but my breasts are small and firm enough not to need one. I applied a dusting of eyeshadow and a darker lipstick. The make-up is natural but suitable for a fancy dinner. I took my hair up, leaving my neck bare. I chose not to wear jewelry. The dress is striking enough.
“Sabella.” Angelo knocks again. “We have to leave in fifteen minutes.” When I open the door, he drags a gaze over me. “You look beautiful. Fabien did well with the dress.”
“Thank you.” I grab the shoes and the matching clutch bag Fabien provided. “The bathroom is all yours.”
“In a minute.”
His tone makes me pause.
“I have something for you,” he says, taking a flat, narrow box from the dresser. He flips it open, revealing a ruby and diamond choker. “Turn around.”
Obeying, I say, “That looks expensive.”
He walks up behind me. “It is.”
“What if I lose it?”
He drapes the necklace around my neck and secures the clasp. “You won’t. The fastening system is secure.”
I trace the ridges of the big ruby in the center. “Fabien said you’d get something on loan. I don’t want to take unnecessary risks.”
Brushing a thumb over my shoulder, he says, “It’s not on loan. It’s yours.”
I turn around quickly. “Why?”
His expression becomes closed-off. He shrugs, the gesture casual, but the energy underlying his demeanor is strained. “It goes with your dress.”
The reply disappoints me. What did I expect? For him to look at me as someone he doesn’t hate? Not for the first time, I wonder how things would’ve been if my dad had simply allowed us to get married. If he’d honored the deal, would Angelo and I have had a chance at happiness? If my family didn’t kill his and he didn’t kill mine, could we have looked at each other differently? Will I ever see approval in his eyes instead of contempt?