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)
The memory of him fucking and claiming me in front of those strangers makes me ache for the intimacy we shared that night. To be the sole focus of Angelo Vitale’s attention is to truly feel the sun. I’ve been without his warmth and surviving only on stolen touches. But I suspect today won’t go unpunished, and a small thrill shoots through me as I consider what he might do.
The journey back to the island is long, and by the time I get to the house, the main rooms are quiet and dark. Everyone has settled into their respective wings for the night.
Once I’m in our suite, I kick off my heels and change into a nightgown. Angelo isn’t home yet, and despite him telling me not to wait up, I know I won’t be able to sleep until he’s here.
Needing to unwind, I pad back to our private kitchen and grab a bottle of Inzolia from the wine fridge. I pour myself a glass and close my eyes when I taste the citrus and almonds. There’s an entire summer at the Vitale vineyard that comes to mind.
Feeling a chill on my skin, I head back to the suite to wrap myself in a blanket. But halfway there, the lights go out, and I freeze.
I stand there, waiting for the backup generator to kick in, but it doesn’t. As my eyes adjust to the darkness, a shiver of awareness crawls over me.
I’m not alone.
A whisper of a breath tickles the hair on my neck just before a cold metal blade caresses my face. The wine glass slips from my hand, shattering on the floor as I turn to look at the towering silhouette behind me.
His body is entirely obscured in black—hoodie, pants, gloves, and a full-face mask I don’t recognize.
He reaches out to grab me, and I jerk away from him, a scream lodging in my throat. Survival takes over, and I’m in motion before my mind can catch up. I bolt down the hall, feet slapping against the floor as his boots echo off the walls around me.
Two opposing thoughts battle in my mind. Angelo’s warning about his enemies and his promise that he’d always be the one to capture me.
I don’t know which scenario I’m in, and there isn’t time to think about it. I’m running on pure adrenaline when I skid into a spare bedroom and slam the door shut behind me.
I lock it, knowing it won’t stop him, but I’m hoping to slow him down. I head for the window and wrench it open. This part of the house faces the rear gardens, and it’s not an ideal place to run barefoot. But it will give me a chance to get to the guard’s quarters if I can put enough distance between us.
That’s my plan—but as soon as I launch myself outside, it derails.
The masked man already jumped out of a different window, and he’s standing there waiting for me.
Shit.
He takes a step toward me, and I bolt the other direction, which is the worst possible way to go. I run along the perimeter of the property before I’m forced to make a split-second decision.
Forest or hedge maze.
Shoeless, I settle on the lesser of two evils. Darting through the opening of the maze, I follow the path I know by heart. As kids, we spent countless hours chasing each other through these narrow pathways, hiding in secret alcoves, and crawling through small tunnels. It’s remained largely the same over the years, and I know if I can get to the far edge, I can squeeze through an opening to the backyard.
Then I consider that he might be anticipating that, just as he did when I climbed through the window. So, I wind my way through the maze, turning different directions and slipping through archways until even I don’t know where I’m at.
When I come to one of the alcoves, I pause to listen for him. But all I can hear are the sounds of the island—the rustle of trees, the hoot of an owl, and water lapping against the rocky shoreline.
For a moment, I linger in uncertainty, more terrified by the silence than the sound of his footsteps. Then a twig snapping in the distance startles me, and I step back, intending to hide in the shadow of the alcove. That’s when I bump against something warm, hard, and much larger than me.
Clamping a hand over my mouth, he smothers my scream. I bite into his glove and throw my head back, but it simply bounces off him. He grabs me around the waist, and by some miracle, I fight my way out of his grasp when the fabric of my nightgown tears.
I break into another run, but this time, I only make it a few feet. He captures me by the hair and yanks me back. I collide with his chest, the solid wall of muscle jarring my entire body. He’s much larger than me, and logically, I know I don’t stand a chance. It doesn’t stop me from fighting anyway.