Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
The woman wears a bored expression as her partner gestures toward me, unaware of the way my whole body shakes. “Do introduce me,” Sergiu says with a hard stare at Killian before shifting his sick gaze back to me. The request sounds friendly, yet his icy stare sends a wave of fear snaking down my spine.
God, when will this end?
Killian’s hand rests over mine on his arm, and I find myself almost folding into him, trying to escape the heaviness of his cousin’s stare. “Sergiu, this is Chiara DeLorenzo, my new bride. You will do well to accept her into the family.”
“Bride?” he sputters, gaping at Killian as my heart stops, my whole body freezing. I’m certain I must have heard him wrong. “Tell me you did not wed this common whore?”
Killian’s hand snaps out so damn fast, I barely see it moving, but damn, there’s no mistaking the sound of his palm smacking across his cousin’s face. “Watch your mouth,” Killian growls, the tone in his voice making me tremble. “The whore you refer to is my wife. My family, our family. You will show respect, or must I remind you what happens to men who disrespect what’s mine?”
Sergiu dips his head, finally dropping his lingering stare away from me, allowing me a false sense of reprieve. But with Killian’s words still circling my head, peace is not something I’m capable of finding. “Of course not, Killian,” he says, taking the smallest step back, trying to be discreet as the woman sneers at me, her gaze now shifting from disgusted to calculated. Sergiu looks back up before fixing me with a kind smile that doesn’t meet his eyes, but I have to give him credit for trying. “On behalf of myself, my wife, Monica, and the DeLorenzo family, we welcome you with open arms.”
Fucking bullshit.
I nod my head, really not knowing what to say when he pats his wife’s hand on his arm. “If you would excuse us. I promised my wife a dance before dinner is served.”
Killian gives a curt nod and watches his cousin as they step away, and once the fear of his proximity has finally faded from my veins, I’m left with nothing to do but gape at the intoxicating man beside me.
Wife?
I know this man is psychotic, callous, and cruel, but is he also deranged? I know we discussed our requirements this afternoon, but I could have sworn the word wife or bride was never brought up in conversation. Surely I would remember that. Though to be fair, I don’t think I remember a single thing after he said I’d be birthing a child within the next two years. I’m still sweating from that revelation.
Noticing my stare, Killian lets out an exasperated breath before fixing me with a heavy stare, though the way his eyes flash lets me know he has all the time in the world for me right now. “What is it now, Chiara?” he questions, leading me deeper into the room, and not allowing me a single moment to melt at the way my name sounds on his skilled tongue.
“Uhhhh . . . Are you kidding me?” I stutter, barely able to meet the intensity of his rich stare. “You just referred to me as your wife. What the hell, Killian? I know we have an . . . odd arrangement, but wife? I don’t remember signing a marriage license. Hell, I don’t remember walking down the aisle in a big-ass poofy dress and vowing to love you in sickness and health either. Though to be fair, you have a tendency to drug me, so who knows what could have happened while I was out cold.”
Killian pulls me in closer and lowers his hand to the small of my back before leading me toward the dance floor and away from prying eyes. “Must everything be so dramatic with you?” he questions, stepping out onto the dance floor, taking my hand, and spinning me out, unaware of the way I tremble being this much closer to Sergiu.
Killian gives a gentle tug, and I come spinning right back, my body pressing up against his as my hand lands on his wide chest, his proximity leaving Sergiu nothing but a distant memory. “As discussed this afternoon, for your own protection and the protection of my family, I cannot allow you to keep your name. So I have decided that you will take mine.”
I gape at him. “As your wife?”
He nods. “You expressed that you were not comfortable being referred to as my property. Is that still true?”
“Yes,” I rush out. “Of course that’s still true. I haven’t changed my mind in the past hour.”
“Then this is what I can offer you,” he tells me, casually leading me around the dance floor as the whispering about our current marital status spreads around the room like wildfire. “As my wife, you will hold a name that will not put my family or business in jeopardy. The world will know you not as my property, but as my spouse. My wife. And while I know we are not there yet, in the eyes of the outside world, that’s exactly what you will be.”