Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101247 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
The room goes silent, but this time, it’s pregnant with shock. I turn to Federico. “And that applies to you, as well.”
“Valentino!” Zio Marco says crossly. “Don’t say things like that. These are your brothers. You should know better than to threaten to hurt them.”
I respect Zio Marco, but he is demented if he thinks I’d let him speak down on my authority as the Head of the family organization. “Speak to your sons, or you’ll lose one of them before night falls. I promise you that.”
“Come on, bro,” Matteo says.
Bro? What is he, a black rapper now? My eyes narrow to slits.
“You can’t let Francesca-”
I always keep a gun in my drawer, and it is drawn and cocked and pointed in his direction in two seconds.
Matteo’s eyes bulge in astonishment and everyone freezes.
“Valentino!” Zio Marco growls, springing to his feet with impotent fury. “You don’t do this to your family.”
“Francesca is family! Suggesting I put her up as bait lets me know you haven’t taken her as that.” I look into his eyes. There is shame there. “I suggest everyone take tonight for introspection because we will have this meeting again soon. I will shoot you all down before I let you disrespect my wife.”
With that said, I walk out of my study.
Chapter Eleven
FRANCESCA
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Q3vTgpNPzYQ
-Hey Baby, there ain’t no easy way out-
The Barbieri house is pretty impressive, but it’s child’s play compared to the Palazzo della Seraphina. I’ve just walked around the garden, and as I head back to my room, I can’t help but admire the magical aura of the place. Every corner of the mansion speaks of wealth, luxury, power, and centuries' worth of history.
Despite the beauty and magic surrounding me, my heart is heavy with a strange despair. One I never thought I would be feeling.
Valentino doesn’t care about me.
I should be happy about it, but it makes my heart heavy, and I hate it. I’d prefer he hates me, but his aloof detachment kills me. He doesn’t get upset with me anymore, he doesn’t speak to me, he only responds coldly, as if I am a nuisance he has to put up with. Like the flies that plague the poor animals in the heat plains of Africa. They are forced to swish their tails in response to these irritating insects. No matter how hard I try to get a rise out of him, he simply doesn’t care. Actually, it’s like I don’t exist until I speak.
And what was that nonsense with that slut, Vica, when we arrived? Is there something between them? I’m not experienced in the ways of men and women, but there was something more going on there than mere friendship.
Where is Valentino now? It’s almost seven, and I haven’t seen him since he showed me to my room. Is he with Vica? Is he with another woman? I don’t care, so why is my heart hurting so badly at the thought of him with another woman? The truth is I’m going crazy.
I burst into my room and slam the door behind me. The bedroom is a haven of luxury and comfort, but it doesn’t take my mind off my husband. I fall on the canopied bed draped in silk and damask. I allow the softness to lull me for a little bit.
I’m hardly asleep when there’s a knock on my door. I sit up, wondering who it could be. “Come in.”
The door opens, and Freya peeks in. There’s a noise behind her, and soon, all four ladies I met earlier troop into my room.
“Hello,” I greet warmly, even though I only like Freya, Isabella, and Serena. I violently dislike Vica.
“Sorry to barge in like this,” Isabella says as they all plop themselves on the bed. “We were about to leave, but thought we should come and say goodbye.”
Isabella is tall, slim, doe-eyed, and pretty. She is about the same age as me. Freya and Serena seem to be a bit older, but that doesn’t take away from their respective allure. Freya has a brunette bob and flashing dark eyes. Serena’s appeal is more of a Barbie doll. She’s obviously had some work done on her body because the proportions seem a little outrageous, but she has a very sweet face. But of all of them, Vica is the most beautiful. With olive skin, high, pert breasts, and snake-like hips.
“You’re not sleeping with your husband?” Vica asks brazenly. Her cat-like green eyes are gleaming with curiosity… and something else.
“Vica!” Freya gasps. “You can’t ask her that.”
“Why not?” Vica shrugs casually, but she has smelled a rat and she is after it now.
I hate her for being so gorgeous and for the way my husband slid his hand down her snake hips. It suggested knowledge and intimacy. I don’t want to be rude to anyone, even though anger is swirling in my belly, and begging me to bash her insolent head against the wall and stain the white sheets with her blood. I tell myself I will not be reduced to a catfight because of Valentino. I hate him. If the bitch wants him, she’s welcome to him.