Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
“I stole nothing, and we both know it,” I refuted. “Go back and sit down. You’re not going to touch me. You only lay your hands on people you perceive as weaker than you. Like my woman.” I paused because I was moments away from killing him. Something flashed in his eyes.
Fear.
He was looking the reaper in the face, knowing his future depended on whether or not I could hold it together. There was shock there too. Whether he was truly arrogant enough to think he wouldn’t face any consequences or he didn’t think I was capable of feeling emotion toward another human being, I wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter.
He barely hesitated before he went to sit back down, causing me to respect him even less. I’d given him far too many liberties. We’d given him far too many liberties. But both Vincentius and I were making decisions based on the sweet boy he once was. Making excuses for his behavior according to what he’d witnessed in his formative years. We both thought that he’d eventually find his way. It was in his blood after all.
But sometimes the apple fell far from the tree. Very fucking far.
I’d known the last resort of demoting him down to the bottom of the ladder was going to have a polarizing effect on Lorenzo. That it was going to make him angry, but I hadn’t thought he’d take his fury out on a woman. Not after he’d seen what had happened to his sister.
It was clear that he was beyond our efforts.
“Your hand,” I demanded after he’d sat down, after I’d let several weighted seconds pass, figuring out what the fuck I was going to do.
Lorenzo stared at me, his face ashen. “What?”
“I’m going to take your hand.” I nodded to the knuckle that was bruised and red, grinding my teeth, knowing that was from slamming into Sienna’s face. “The hand that you used to strike my woman.” My voice had an edge then. Ragged. Not smooth enough. I took a breath. “You’re lucky I’m not taking your head.”
All of the fight left Lorenzo as my words sunk in, and he realized the gravity of the situation he’d put himself in. Consequences of his actions were not something he was used to dealing with, and now he couldn’t escape them. Not if he wanted to live. He understood that there was no getting out of this, certainly there was no changing my mind.
Whatever had come over him, whatever fury or delusion left in that moment, and only cold clarity remained.
“Does my father know about this?” he asked, his voice sounding smaller. He looked smaller. More like the boy I used to play video games with before our lives were changed forever.
Both of the boys we once were, were gone.
“Your father appointed me the head of this family, therefore, he trusts my judgement.” I paused, pinching the bridge of my nose. “If your father knew what you’d done, he’d kill you himself.”
Lorenzo didn’t argue this time because we both knew it was true.
I expected him to do something foolish like try to run. It was stupid and cowardly, so it fit with everything I now knew about him.
But he stayed where he was, nodding once, resigned to his fate.
It surprised me, impressed me ever so slightly. Maybe he wasn’t completely damned.
But understanding my reaction to Sienna being hurt, I knew I was.
Chapter Twelve
Sienna
Cristian didn’t speak to me. Didn’t rush up to me demanding to know if I was okay, make promises about killing Lorenzo, making him pay for what he did to me. No tender touching of my skin, chasing away the rancid touch of a man who was willing to rape me. None of that.
He’d glanced at me once with a clenched jaw, eyes flickering from my face to my arms, murder in his eyes, turning his back on me in the next moment.
It hurt. Hurt just as much as the punch to the face I’d just been subjected to.
Cristian was not a knight in shining armor. He was not kind or soft. This whole thing had not started because he cared about me. This had started because my fiancé sold me to him.
All of those things, in addition to the attempted sexual assault, punch in the face, and having a gun pointed at my head, were why I was drinking vodka straight at eight in the morning.
It wasn’t dulling any of my edges, and my cheek throbbed persistently.
As much as I wanted to run to my room, lock the door and hide, it wouldn’t have changed anything. I had an overwhelming urge to snatch the keys to one of Cristian’s cars and just drive. Out of the city. Out of the state. Find some crappy side of the road motel and hide until everything blew over.