Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 446(@200wpm)___ 357(@250wpm)___ 297(@300wpm)
“Why?” she asks, sounding scared.
I open the drawer and grab a set of underwear, which I dump on the bed as well. “The neighbors called in a domestic disturbance. They probably heard your screams.”
She stares at me with wide eyes, following my movements with her gaze.
“Come on, bella.”
I tug the comforter from her tight grip and pull it off her body. Goosebumps run over her arms.
Regret slips into my voice. “You have to get ready.”
She swings her legs over the side of the bed. Fucking perfect timing. It’s not the moment to drag her out into the cold, but we don’t have a choice. I can’t not let her show her face.
Taking her elbow, I help her up, but she pushes me away. The rejection stings, and that comes as a surprise. It’s not as if I don’t deserve it. I took her hard, and I didn’t prepare her. But punishment is punishment, and I’ll do well not to go soft on her. I shouldn’t forget how quick she was to betray me, how ready to marry another man.
I take the panties and hold them open. “Here.”
She snatches them from my hands and gathers the rest of the clothes before making for the bathroom.
“Sabella,” I say in protest, reaching for her again, but she stops me short with a raised palm and pursed lips, her chest rising with a deep breath.
It takes every ounce of control I possess and then some to give her the space she wants, especially now. Especially when the men in the lounge are waiting. I don’t miss the small steps she takes or how the proud set of her shoulders is designed to hide her discomfort. She doesn’t want me to know. But I do.
The shutting of the door and the lock that turns with a firm click is a very clear message. It takes even more restraint not to go after her and break down that fucking door. Pacing is all I can do until she steps out a minute later, dressed but still looking disheveled with her hair hanging wild around her face.
“Sit,” I say, pushing her down onto the bench in front of the dresser. It’s padded, but she winces when her ass hits the surface.
I find socks and a pair of sneakers and go down on my haunches in front of her. This time, she doesn’t object as I pull the socks over her feet before tying the sneakers.
“Listen to me, Sabella.” I straighten, gripping her chin. “They’re just going to ask you a few questions, and then, they’re going to leave.”
She stares up at me without blinking, her dark eyes hazy. Is she even processing what I’m saying?
“Do you understand?” The next words pain me. “Do not even think about betraying me again. Remember what’s at stake.”
She swallows. Nods.
“Good girl.” I bend down and plant a kiss on her lips. “It’ll only take a few minutes. Soon, you can go back to bed.”
She doesn’t reply.
Taking the brush from the dresser, I try to be gentle as I pull it through her hair, but the bristles catch on the knots. My ministrations move her head this way and that. She doesn’t resist or complain when the brush gets stuck.
When she’s more or less presentable, I put the brush aside and grasp her elbows to help her to her feet. “How are you doing?”
She pulls away. “I’m fine.”
Clenching my hands to stop myself from reaching for her again, I take her coat from the back of the chair and hang it over her shoulders.
The wind is like a blast of ice in our faces when I open the door. Her just-brushed hair blows in every direction as she grabs the rail and walks down the passageway.
A gust of wind creates a swell that rocks the yacht. I wrap my hands around her waist from behind when she almost loses her balance and, despite her protest, hold her steady as I steer her ahead of me up the stairs. Her ribcage expands under my palms with the long breath she takes as we pass in front of the window through which the men in their blue uniforms are visible. When we turn the corner, she blows it out slowly.
By the time I open the door and usher her inside, her manner is composed.
Lavigne stands at attention. He takes Sabella in with a practiced glance. “Mrs. Russo, my apologies for interrupting your rest.”
“That’s all right,” she says.
I take a position beside her, placing my hand on her lower back.
Lavigne’s gaze slips to the action. “Do you know why we’re here?”
She doesn’t skip a beat. “My husband told me there’s been a complaint about the noise.” Her cheeks flush as she continues, “We’re on honeymoon. I’m sorry about disturbing our neighbors.” She even manages to flash me a smile. “We’ll keep it down until we’re on the open sea.”