Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107402 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 537(@200wpm)___ 430(@250wpm)___ 358(@300wpm)
“Nico. Please. Just let them leave, and never let them come back.” Emelia’s soft plea breaks through my rage, and I look at her over my shoulder.
I’ve seen her cry. I’ve seen her emotional and almost crack. But this? This is something else. Emelia is broken in front of me. Something even I know must be hard for her to do.
“Emelia, he hit you. I won’t let him do that. Besides, I have my own reasons to watch his brain splatter these walls. Might even keep it there as fucking wall art.”
“Yes, but if you do that, you’ll start another war.”
No, I would end one. My father’s.
“And every outfit is in my fucking pocket,” I remind her. She has no clue what I know nor what I have planned.
“You will start a war for me. Just… please. Make them leave, and I will be an obedient wife.”
Is that what she thinks she needs to be?
“I don’t need you to be obedient, Emelia. I need you to be powerful.”
She looks at me, her brothers and mother, then her father. I assess her, waiting for her next words or next move. Finally, she steps closer, and once she takes her place next to me, she takes the gun from my hand. I hesitate at first, but when she meets my eyes, I see she wants my trust. And for whatever she is about to do, she needs it.
I feel like I’m seeing a version of me in her. When I relinquish the gun to her, she slowly steps in front of me and lifts the gun to her father’s head.
“Emelia!” Isabelle screams, and I feel fire rushing through my veins.
Is she going to kill her father? Oh, that would be even fucking better. That would turn my best laid plans into a fucking wet dream.
“Emelia, I’m your father. Don’t make this mistake.”
“You are dead to me.” She looks at him with the rarest, deepest form of hate, and that’s when I see her… change.
There it is. There is the partner I wanted. There is the daughter I wanted to steal from him and turn against him. Little did I know how easy it was going to be, because he was never a father to his daughter.
“Get the fuck out of my house. And if you try to go to war with my husband, I will not hesitate next time to have him torture you. Not just end you, but fucking torture you. Do you understand?”
He just swallows and glares at her.
“Do you understand!” When she yells, I swear the walls shake and the ground quakes beneath us. My chest swells with arousal and the deepest sense of pride.
“Yes,” he concedes, but she still waits a moment, holding the gun to his head.
I’m not a man who makes wishes, but in that moment, I wish she would just do it. I want to see her really join me, in marriage, in war, and in fucking death. What’s better than a wife? One who is your partner in crime. Tonight, she gained my respect, my devotion, and my alliance. No longer a pawn, she’s now a partner.
“Get out.” Slowly lowering her arm, she turns, walks down the hall, and leaves us all there.
“Looks like you raised one child worthy of being in this world. Giulio, get them out. Oh, and Giuseppe?” I pause, turning and placing my hands in my pockets. “If I find out it was you who fucked with my shipments, I will not only end you, but I will make sure I am voted boss of New York. Your sons will be shining my fucking shoes when you’re gone.” And with that, I leave to find Emelia.
My blood is beyond hot. I could melt anything I touch, including Emelia. I can’t be the only one riding that high. Fuck, seeing her finally put that piece of shit in his place. And what’s more, it was his own flesh and blood turning against him, and that was a master-fucking-piece. Emelia has earned her place next to me.
I couldn’t care less this started the opposite of an alliance—an all-out war with the Notellis. My wife and I just became a team, and in the heat of that, I want to make sure she feels it and that it’s a lasting burn. The hatred she feels for her family should never fizzle out; I want it to burn like acid inside her.
“Emelia?” I look in our room and don’t see her. Checking the bathroom next, I spot her standing in front of the mirror, eyeing herself over, her face a scowl.
I don’t approach her. Instead, I admire her. A vision. She is a vision standing in front of me. Close enough to touch, but it’s more tempting to wait. The longer I hold back, the angrier she will become, and the anger will boil over. Her body will thrum to life, and she will claw at me. Emelia will want to tear us both out of our skin.