Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15909 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
"You, Isla. I want you."
My jaw drops, but before I can ask him what he means, Dante continues speaking, pulling out a single sheet of paper from his pocket along with a pen. He unfolds the contract, sliding it towards me. "You will be my live-in assistant for three months. Anything I ask, you do. I will never hear the word 'no' from your mouth. And once those three months are up, your father's debt will be paid in full, and you'll be free to go."
"I..." My head is spinning. What sort of person does this? Who is so used to getting what they want that they can just order someone else to be at their beck and call for three entire months? I want to say no. I want to throw my wine in his face, grab the contract, and tear it to shreds, then storm out of there. But my dad is all I have left. If this is what it takes to keep him safe, I'll do it.
I have to do it.
I reach for the pen, my hands trembling, but Dante stops me, his hand clasping over mine. A jolt goes through me, heat flooding my body, my core throbbing. I look up into his eyes, feeling lost in them. His grip on my wrist tightens.
"I want to make sure you understand exactly what you're agreeing to," he says softly. "You will sign your life over to me, Isla. Once you sign, you're mine. You have to agree to that, right here and now."
My mouth is dry, and I lick my lips, nodding. "I understand. I agree."
"Good." Dante pulls back. "Sign on the line."
My hand still trembles as I write my name across the dotted line, and I push it back across the table towards Dante. He takes it, his eyes scanning the paper as if he expects me to have forged my own signature.
"The terms of this contract start tonight," he says. "I'll have your things moved to my house. You will stay with me. You'll begin work tomorrow, and we'll go from there."
"But..." I can barely keep up. "What..?"
Dante holds up a hand to silence me. "I'll answer any questions you have tomorrow. Tonight, we dine. The contract is signed, and you are mine."
"But—" I try again.
"Shh." Dante shakes his head. "You agreed to never tell me no. This is our first lesson in how things will be. Now, relax and enjoy your meal."
I sit back, reeling. This is not what I expected. But the contract is signed. And I'm already starting to wonder if it was worth it.
2
DANTE
Two years haven't changed Isla Cross at all. If anything, it's only made her more irresistible.
The last time I saw her was at a charity dinner that I was invited to attend. Her father was there, too, and he had brought his daughter as his plus one.
I had noticed her laugh first, high and clear and genuine, not quiet and controlled like everyone else who was too concerned with appearances. I remember turning, immediately forgetting whatever investor I was talking to, and being captivated. In a room full of carefully polished and put-together people, Isla was so bright and alive that she almost didn't seem real. Her hair was caught in a single band, curling down her back, shimmering honey-blond instead of dyed platinum. Isla is petite, and the royal blue, floor-length dress she wore was modest enough for the event, but showed me how sinfully curvy she is. Apart from everything else, it was her sweet, heart-shaped face that had me bordering on obsession before we even spoke a word to each other.
Her dress brought out her eyes like two sapphires, and her lips were glossy pink, full and bow-shaped as she laughed. She was beautiful, but not in the same way most women are. There was an innocence to Isla, a warmth, and as I watched her interact with her father, I could see how much she cared about him. It told me Isla loved and cared with her entire heart, and I knew from that moment forward that I wanted that love all for myself.
When she'd walked into the bistro less than an hour ago, her dress had been shorter, but I sure as hell wasn't going to complain about being able to see the length of her long, shapely legs. Her hair was loose, tumbling around her shoulders. She was stunning. And when I finally saw the sparkle of fear in her eyes when she looked at me, I was filled with a possessiveness I'd never felt before.
I've always liked pretty things. Beautiful things. That's why I have the house I do, the cars, the yacht, the contracts I make people sign. But with Isla, I don't want to simply own her. I don't want to just admire her. I want to devour her. I want her to be mine. And now she is.