Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77233 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 257(@300wpm)
His head snapped to the side, breath hissing through his teeth like an angry rattlesnake. “Emilia.”
It was the only warning I got before his hand was around my throat. This felt so familiar, and I hated that I wanted it, that I craved the quickening of my pulse, the imprint of his fingers on my skin.
“What the fuck are you playing at?”
I glared at him, even as a pathetic sense of hurt pounded away at me with every heartbeat. “Don’t look so disgusted, Giovanni. You were going to marry me once before. You can do it again. It’s just a piece of paper.”
He shoved away from me and paced, dragging both hands through his hair. “Fuck. Why didn’t you come to me in private with this?”
Because I didn’t even know what I was going to do until about two minutes before I walked into that office.
“Because I will do whatever it takes to protect the people I care about from you and Nero Verdi.” I lifted my chin. “Even if I have to marry you to do it.”
I had never wanted to get married, certainly not in the mafia and definitely not to the very man I was sold to in the first place. But if I were going to do it, why not for my own cause? Not like Gio hadn’t already had my body and taken my freedom anyway. What was a ring, really?
“You don’t want this, Emilia.”
“I want my brothers running The Outfit instead of in a coffin.”
“You want freedom.”
“What I want has never mattered!” I shouted, and he stopped, what looked like sympathy flashing over his face. “It doesn’t matter.” It was my only constant—how inconsequential my life was. If I was going to sacrifice myself, then at least it was for Renzo and Luca, not my asshole uncle. At least it was my choice.
Gio stepped close, his warm fingers whispering over my cheek. God, how I craved him. How I wanted to fall into the safety of that embrace. But it was a lie. There was nothing warm or safe in Giovanni Guerra.
“It matters to me.” Such sweet words slipped from his lips as he cupped my jaw. Like a lover. Like a man I could have loved once. “I will always care about you, piccola.”
I’d come to hate that term of affection on his lips. It reminded me of how deeply I’d allowed him to cut me.
“More than anyone or anything.”
“You said you’d never lie to me.” I breathed. “We both know you care far more for the mafia than you ever will me.”
His sapphire gaze hardened. “And you said you just wanted us. No deals. No marriage. Now here you are, getting knee-deep in mafia politics.”
“Yeah, well, things changed.” He changed. “There is no us now.”
His jaw ticced at that, but I didn’t care. Let him be angry. Let him feel a sliver of the hurt he’d inflicted on me with a blade to my throat.
“This will be purely a business arrangement.” One that served my needs this time.
His teeth raked his bottom lip as he stared at me. “Oh, princess, you really think we could ever be a passionless piece of paper? No. I don’t think so.” A smirk played over his lips. “I reinstate our deal.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “What deal?”
His hand collared my throat once more, and I hated that my pulse hiccuped in excitement, that I wanted him to squeeze a little harder. His chest pressed to mine, warm breaths slipping over my face as the scent of pine and mint drowned me. My heart thrashed in my chest, my entire body gravitating toward him as though he were a force of nature, a black hole sucking me into his void.
He shoved me back against the wall so hard that my head hit the plaster. “The deal where I only agree to marry you if I find this pussy dripping for me.” His free hand dropped to my hip, fingers playing along the hem of my shirt, then the waistband of my leggings. His grip on my neck tightened to painful. “The deal where you beg me, Emilia.”
I choked when his hand dipped inside my underwear. My fingers wrapped around his wrist, but my attempt to pull him away became weak the moment he brushed my pussy.
Fuck, I hated him, but his touch felt so good, and my body craved him like its own personal drug. My pussy didn’t care that he was without morals, that he had threatened Renzo and broken my trust. None of that mattered.
“I’ll never beg. I don’t want—” I lost my breath when he mercilessly slammed two fingers inside me.
“What were you about to say, kitten?” His teeth raked my jaw. “That you don’t want me?” He withdrew and pushed back in, and I remained paralyzed, trapped like a bird in a cage.