Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
“He was struck by lightning when we were teenagers,” Gabi explains, her voice softening at the edges. “It was my fault. And now, he hates me.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” Mariella corrects her. “And he doesn’t hate you, even when he’s being a jerk.”
Gabi shrugs, but I know it doesn’t matter what we tell her. She blames herself, and it doesn’t help that Romeo has been outwardly hostile to her since his return. But I think Mariella’s right. It’s not because he hates her. It’s because he’s trying to protect her from himself.
“Can we talk about something else now?” Gabi asks.
“Sure.” Mariella doesn’t miss a beat, her eyes darting toward her brothers quickly before she speaks. “I think we’ll need to postpone our book club meetings for a while. Things are too busy.”
The girls nod quietly, understanding this is about Aegis. With all the extra security on us right now, it will make doing what we do a lot harder. But we’ll have to find a way around it regardless.
“Let’s circle back to it,” I agree.
“Speaking of busy…” Chantel twirls a piece of hair around her finger, shooting me a pleading glance. “I need to get on your schedule.”
“What’s the occasion?”
She hesitates for a second. “Marco invited me to the masquerade ball.”
“Not Lord Dickhead,” Valentina groans. “I thought you were done with him.”
“It’s just a ball.” Chantel shrugs, trying to play it off like he hasn’t hurt her enough already.
“It’s a gateway drug, is what it is,” Lucia tells her. “Don’t let him jerk you around. You’re better than that.”
“If he does, I’ll send my brothers after him,” Mariella tells her.
Chantel laughs. “Cristian is his best friend.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Mariella says. “I have five others.”
“Duly noted.” Chantel looks at me. “So can you help a girl out? I know it’s short notice.”
“I’ll send you my availability.”
“You’re a godsend,” she breathes. “Do you want cash or chocolate?”
I smile. “Like you even have to ask.”
38
ABELLA
“If it isn’t the Vitale queen, positively glowing with marital bliss.” Ares strolls into my office during my lunch break, his gaze roaming over me before it fixes on my abdomen. “Anything exciting to share yet?”
“Have you ever heard of making an appointment?” I glower at him.
“I’m a Stavros, Abella,” he says. “I don’t make appointments. I show up and tell people what I want, and they give it to me.”
“How nice for you.” I roll my eyes. “And what is it you want from me?”
“Measurements.” He smirks as he gestures to his trousers. “Do you prefer flaccid or erect?”
“You’re hilarious.” I toss the wrapper from my protein bar in the trash and wipe my hands. “Do you want my husband to murder you?”
“Oh, don’t worry about him,” Ares answers smugly. “He’s out gallivanting around with his boy Friday right now. What’s his name, Andrew? I take it that was your doing?”
I ignore him and grab my measuring tape while he carries on.
“Poor Genevieve. Whose dick will she chase now?”
“Maybe you should give it a shot,” I answer dryly.
He shudders. “God, no. Stage five clinger that one. I’d rather put my balls in a wood chipper.”
“As much as it thrills me to imagine that, I have a schedule to keep,” I tell him. “You still haven’t told me what it is you need.”
“Well, dear Abella, I’m going to give you the pleasure of dressing me for the masquerade ball.”
“What an honor. How will I ever contain my excitement?”
“I bet your husband just loves that mouth of yours,” he says.
“He does, actually.” I grab my notepad and tuck it beneath one arm and get to work, measuring his chest, shoulders, and sleeve length, pausing to jot down the numbers as he watches me.
I’ve known Ares my whole life, and beneath all the sarcasm and deflection, I know he’s capable of being a decent man when he wants to be. But he’s also Angelo’s mortal enemy, and by default, that makes him mine too.
I should have turned him away, but the truth is that something has been lingering in my thoughts since our last visit. A question I shouldn’t ask—or even entertain. But Ares can already see the desperation working its way through me.
“What could be weighing on that pretty little mind of yours?” he ponders as I measure his hips and waist. “You look like you have the whole world on your shoulders. But then again…I suppose you do.”
I tell myself I can’t indulge this idea. It’s the worst possible thing I could do, and if Angelo ever finds out, he would see it as another betrayal. But as I sink to my knees in front of Ares to measure his inseam and thigh circumference, the painful alternative hits me all over again. The question spills from my lips before I can stop myself.
“Would you ever consider renegotiating the terms of the treaty?”