Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74843 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
My gray sports bra is soaked in sweat, and my white capri yoga pants stick to my ass and legs as a result of my three-mile run. I don’t give a shit that I don’t look presentable and stink.
“Haven,” my father announces to the room, jumping up from his seat behind his desk. Clearing his throat, he looks me up and down, the disapproval clear in his blue eyes.
“What is going on?” I demand, not even bothering with introductions.
My eyes slide to the man who slowly stands to my right. He towers over me at every bit of six feet four. His jet black hair is parted on the right and combed over. His impressive charcoal suit with black button-down matches his shiny shoes. I know it costs him more than most hardworking men make in a year.
He looks the same as I remember him. Intimidating. Eyes so dark, they look like two endless black holes. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and the gold ring on his right hand looks like it could be used as a weapon. Why is he here? He lives in New York and very rarely makes appearances in Las Vegas. Well, or so I thought.
My father clears his throat. “Come here, Haven.”
I search the room for the set of eyes that haunts me every time I close mine, but I don’t see him.
“What’s going on?” I ask again, standing my ground.
“You’ve been sold.”
I spin around to face the man who spoke. He leans up against the wall next to the door I had just barged through. He’s got a pair of dark jeans on and a white fitted shirt. A cigarette sits tucked behind his ear and his tatted arms are crossed over his chest. His matching black eyes fall to my sweat-covered yoga pants. Matteo was never as funny as he thought he was.
I narrow my eyes on him, and he runs his tongue over his upper lip. Turning back to my father, I ignore his ass, knowing that he just wants to wind me up. “What’s really going on?”
He glares at Luca’s younger brother, then looks back at me, but he says nothing. My heart skips a beat when his hard features soften, and he lets out a sigh, regret flashing across his face.
“Daddy …” I walk over to this desk and place my sweaty hands on the cool surface. “What is going on?” I ask for a third time.
Looking down, I go to pick up the papers that sit on top of the dark wood, but he beats me to it and snatches them up.
“Are you deaf?” Matteo barks out. “I already told you. You’ve been sold.”
I turn once again to face him as he pushes off the wall. “Bullshit!” I snap. I don’t believe him for a second. “I am not for sale, and my father would never do that.”
Where the fuck is Luca?
The corners of his lips turn up, and he comes to a stop before me. “People will do a lot for money,” he says simply.
My stomach drops, but I shake my head. Sold? It’s not even an option. The thought is unfathomable and, not to mention, illegal. “No,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he replies, lifting his right hand to touch my bare stomach. “We’re here to collect. You’ll marry …”
“I won’t marry you!” I interrupt, shoving him away.
Is he insane?
Matteo was a sick son of a bitch growing up. The rumors about him at school would get a kid with lesser wealth thrown in prison for life, but the girls he chose to use never would step forward, and I hated it. The way he watched them walk by in the halls. The way he’d touch them without their permission, and they would physically shrink into themselves.
“You’re right. You won’t.” His eyes skim over my heaving chest, naked torso, and yoga pants-clad thighs. “But you will be a Bianchi, nonetheless.” He leans in closer, his lips nearly touching mine, and I have to swallow the bile that wants to rise at his closeness. He reeks of cigarettes and whores. The cheap kind. “And the Bianchis share everything they have.”
Is he talking about his brother?
I almost laugh. Luca didn’t want me then, and he won’t want me now. Not as his wife. If he was here, lying in my bed naked and hard, then his car being outside would maybe make sense. But this doesn’t.
I whip around to face my father once again, my loose hair slapping me in the face. “What the fuck is going on?” I shout, close to hysterics.
His face hardens. “Young lady, watch your language …”
I ignore him. “Tell me this is some kind of joke. Why are they really here?” I snap.
I know my father has done business with them in the past. But for Luca’s car to be out front is … unsettling, to say the least. He’s been gone for what feels like forever. Up and left me alone. He wouldn’t come back now. Not for me.