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)
When he releases my hand, I hold it up to examine the ring. I’ve heard of these, but I never imagined he’d buy one for me. Then again, we have a lot riding on this.
Two years for an heir.
I glance up at him, and I know he’s thinking about it too. I’m sure it weighs on his mind constantly.
“I also tossed your sleeping pills,” he says matter-of-factly. “You won’t need them when you’re in my bed. I have better options to keep the nightmares at bay.”
“That almost sounds sweet,” I tell him. “Except…you are the nightmare, darling.”
He gives me a dark look as if to say I have no idea.
Something flutters in my belly. It almost feels like we’re flirting, which is strange. I can tell he’s noticed the shift, too, because he’s itching to leave.
“Are you going somewhere?” I ask.
“I have work to do,” he says. “You should get some rest. Tomorrow, we’ll leave the yacht for a while.”
“Leave where?”
“We have dinner in Monaco. A few associates.”
I don’t have to guess what that means. Europe is the Cosa Nostra’s favorite playground. I wouldn’t be surprised if half of our wedding guests are still here, sipping cocktails on a beach somewhere. And now that Angelo has returned, he’ll be invited to every event under the sun. As his wife, I’ll be expected to attend most of them. But that isn’t what’s bothering me right now or why I’m asking these inane questions.
“Is Genevieve staying with us the whole time?”
“Yes.” He holds my gaze, his face a mask of indifference. “She’s my assistant. She goes where I do.”
A long, uncomfortable silence follows. Something hot flickers in my chest, and I try to tamp it down. To nobody’s surprise, he doesn’t allay my concerns. I’m sure he thinks I have no right to say anything after what I’ve done to him. I can foresee this war between us spinning wildly out of control.
Maybe we only have thirty days, but that doesn’t mean I have to forfeit right now. So I just come right out and say it.
“I won’t tolerate cheating, Angelo.”
A low, humorless laugh echoes through him as he fixes me with a contemptuous look. “Ironic coming from you.”
“I never cheated.” The words nearly get caught in my throat, which doesn’t help my case.
Of course, he doesn’t believe me. He may have taken my virginity, but he still thinks I left him for Matteo. The reasons why don’t matter. Not to him. All that matters right now is retribution.
He drags a hand through his hair and shakes his head. “We’ll leave at six tomorrow. Don’t shower until I check your tattoos in the morning.”
He’s on his way to the door, and I don’t want him to go. Not on a bad note.
“What should I wear?”
He cuts me a sideways glance, eyes raking over me in one long, lingering sweep. “Wear something that sends a message.”
My heart thumps erratically. “Such as?”
His voice deepens, thickening with possession. “The Vitale Queen has arrived.”
Angelo Vitale.
He literally tattooed his name on the back of my thighs. As I observe the reflection in the mirror, a rush of heat zips down my spine. It’s such a feral, insane thing to do. How barbaric and degrading can he be, marking me like I’m his property?
More importantly, why do I like it so much?
Val was right. There’s something seriously wrong with me. I think he’s melted all my internal circuitry, and now my wires are screwed up. I shouldn’t find his psychopathy so charming.
“Madonna Mia,” I mutter under my breath. I’ll never hear the end of this if the girls ever see it.
I push those thoughts aside and get to work assembling my look for tonight’s dinner. I have no doubt Angelo’s going to make a big splash as news of his return spreads far and wide. Everyone will have eyes on us, and I’ll now be representing the Vitale name.
Monaco is known for its luxury and high society, so I lean into an old-Hollywood aesthetic. The gown is couture—a glittering gold, off-the-shoulder silhouette with a corseted bodice and Grecian-style draping. It hugs my figure, accentuating my waist and bust, and flatters my curves.
I pair the dress with a Tiffany bangle, Cartier diamond earrings, and a strappy gold metallic heel that coils around my ankle. For hair and makeup, I style a low chignon with loose, face-framing pieces and a natural base, adding just a touch of champagne shimmer to my eyelids.
I’m touching up my nude-pink lipstick when Angelo enters and halts mid-step.
I stare at him in the reflection of the mirror, watching as his gaze sweeps the length of my body. A long beat of silence passes before he scrapes a hand over his face and mutters a low curse.
“Do you like it?” I hate the vulnerability in my voice. I’ve always been confident in my styles, but this one feels more important than all the others somehow.