Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Instead, it’s a wedding, and I’m the unwilling bride.
Tigran Sarkissian is gorgeous brutality in a designer suit, and I’m shocked at how badly I want him from the moment we share our first kiss at the wedding altar.
I’m expected to move into his house, sleep in his bed, and carry his baby. No complaints.
Except I’m a recluse. I’ve been hiding away for the last twelve years.
Forget about marriage, I can barely go outside.
I don’t care if he’s got beautiful, rough hands and a filthy mouth. I refuse to fall head over heels when he strokes the ugly scar down my cheek.
My new husband might own my womb—but he won’t control me.
Right until a rival gang tries to destroy the alliance we’re creating, and an evil sicko from my past wants to finally kill me after all these years.
As I fight for my safety, I just might have to trust my possessive and psychotic husband to survive.
A brand new steamy arranged marriage mafia romance from best selling author BB Hamel! It's a standalone with no cliffhanger and a happily-ever-after guaranteed. Enjoy!
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Dasha
“Don’t lie to me. This is the most important question I’ve ever asked you.” I lean in close and stare at my brother like I’m about to rip off his head. “Is Dad throwing me a surprise party?”
Evan looks as baffled as I feel. “All he said was I had to put on a suit. That’s everything he told me.”
I groan and pace across my suite’s sitting room. Evan’s watching me with that smug grin he always has as I struggle to keep myself together. Excitement flits through my belly, but I’m also nervous as hell.
“When was the last time I went to a party?” I ask the room, not really expecting an answer.
Evan supplies one anyway. “It’s got to be years at this point. You’re a pathetic hermit, remember?”
“Thank you for that.” I glare at him and wonder what I was thinking when I called him here. My brother’s a good person at heart, but he’s not exactly patient with me most of the time. “You could be a little bit nicer, you know. It’s my freaking birthday.”
“And I said happy birthday already. How old are you again? Fifty-five?”
“Twenty-five. And you’re hilarious.”
“I’m just saying, based on what you’re wearing—” He gestures at my conservative forest green dress.
“What’s wrong with this?” I smooth the long skirt and tug at the long sleeves.
“It’s a little… spinsterish.”
“It’s comfortable.” I pick up a home decorating magazine and fling it at him. The pages open and flutter, giving him plenty of time to duck. “I don’t even know where we’re going, so how am I supposed to figure out what to wear?”
“Considering you’ve barely left this house for the last decade, I’d say you have basically no chance of getting it right.”
“You’re helpful. I’m really happy you’re here.”
Evan walks over to my bar cart and helps himself, which is fine since that stuff is mostly only there for him anyway. “Look, Dad wouldn’t force you to go somewhere that would mess you up, right? Whatever we’re doing, it’ll be safe and stress-free. Just try to relax.”
“That’s the thing. I can’t relax.” I throw myself down onto the couch and contemplate jumping out a window. Except that would mean leaving the house too, and we’ve already established that’s not something I do.
Evan’s wrong about one thing, though. It hasn’t been a decade—it’s been twelve long years.
I’ve gone places in that time. Mostly school, a few extracurricular activities, but the second I graduated from high school, my world narrowed down to a few rooms in a single house.
Things have been good for a while. I’m not exactly out living my best life, but I’m comfortable. Dad’s got the resources to take care of me while also making sure that I’m safe, and I try to help out around the house. It’s a total win-win situation.
For me, anyway.
Evan slumps down on the other end of the couch. He swirls his drink and takes a long sip. “It’ll be fine. Honestly, I’m sure it’s just a birthday thing. How often do you turn twenty-five?”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m positive.” He reaches out and awkwardly pats my ankle. “And if I’m wrong, you can scream your head off and run away.”
“Good idea. As if everyone in Philly needs another reason to think I’m crazy.”
“Nah, nobody thinks you’re crazy. At least, they’re not stupid enough to say that around me.”
“What a protective older brother.”
“That’s right.” He takes another sip and stretches. “Always making sure nobody besmirches your name, aside from me.”
I pull my knees up to my chest. This shouldn’t be such a big deal. Dad’s got something special planned for tonight, and if I were even halfway normal, I’d be able to show up without having a minor meltdown.
That’s not me, though. Instead of taking the news like a regular human, my brain’s doing backflips and screaming through a thousand different worst-case scenarios.
Like what if there’s an earthquake and the building collapses? Or there’s a fire and I’m trapped in a stairwell? Or maybe the car flips twice on the way over and I have to crawl over broken glass to save my stupid grinning dickhead brother’s life?
I’d seriously consider letting him perish.
“That’s it,” I announce, shoving to my feet again. Anxiety makes me twitchy. “I’m not going.”
Evan groans and drinks. “Come on, Dash.”
“Nope, I can’t do it. Just can’t do it. Dad will just have to accept my decision.”
“He won’t. You know that. How many times has he asked you to do anything in the last decade?”
I frown at him. “Never, but—”
“And how many women in your position get to basically live the life they want to with no responsibilities to the family?”
“I mean, none, but—”
“Then why can’t you just trust that Dad has your back?” He’s giving me this smug look, and it makes me want to claw his stupid eyes out.