Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 118965 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 595(@200wpm)___ 476(@250wpm)___ 397(@300wpm)
“Do you think those jobs are beneath me just because my surname is Russo now?”
“No,” he says, watching me with a level gaze. “Those jobs are beneath you because it’s my responsibility to take care of you.”
“I did what I had to do. For me, it was about survival. Going to the village kept me sane. Don’t you understand that?”
“I do, cara. The blame for what you were forced to do is on me.” His black eyes glitter. “However, you will never risk your life like that again. Walking down the mountain is fucking dangerous. I die a thousand times when I think what could’ve happened to you.”
“My friends in the village gave me an electric bike.”
Something like guilt passes over his features. “Did they now?”
“I left it by the river. I want you to bring it back.”
“From now on, I’ll drive you if you want to go to the village.”
“They went to great lengths to recondition it with a battery. I’m not going to thank them by letting it rust under a bush.”
“Fine.” He crosses his arms. “But you won’t go anywhere on that bike alone and never again down the valley. When I’m not here, a driver will take you to town. You’re never to go anywhere without your bodyguards.”
After the nightmare we all lived through, I’m not going to protest. I only have one condition. “No more stalking like with Roch in South Africa.”
“There’s a difference between stalking and protecting someone, but no. No one is going to stalk you. Wherever you go, an army will follow. So you better get used to it. And lastly, you’re never to beg someone else for money again. You have full access to my bank account and our money.” He takes a gold credit card from his pocket and puts it on the nightstand. “There’s enough for you never to have to work unless you want to.”
“Work?” My lips part. “Do you mean that?”
“First, you need to finish your studies. We have to talk about the logistics. The nearest university where you can complete your degree is in Marseille.”
Breathless, I repeat, “Do you mean that?”
“It’s always been the plan. It’s what I had in mind even when my mother was organizing our wedding. Then things happened.” He pauses. “Things I can’t change. But I want to do right by you. I want to give you everything you deserve, Sabella, even if I don’t deserve you.”
Tears well up in my eyes. I forgave him. I chose him. Yet moving on isn’t as easy as that. It’s going to take time. I want to give him a chance to prove himself to me, and for that I’ll need patience. We’ll both need patience.
“I want to leave everything that’s happened behind and start over with you, cara. I can’t build this family without you. I want to make a new family with you.” His features darken. “But before that can happen, there’s something I must do first.”
“What?” I ask, staring up at his face.
Despite the harshness of his expression that gives him that fallen angel look, his touch is gentle as he cups my cheek. It’s both reassuring and frightening. It’s as if he’s preparing me for bad news.
When he pulls his hand away, coldness washes over me. I want to ask him not to go, but I know whatever he’s planning on doing must be done. Instinctively, I know it’s the closure we need.
Without another word, he turns on his heel and leaves the room. My heart hammers in my chest as I wait for his return.
He doesn’t leave me in suspense for long. He comes back carrying a small cooler box. Glancing at me from over his shoulder, he locks the door. My gaze homes in on the action. My pulse spikes as he walks to the bed and puts the cooler box on my lap like a cat who offers its owner a dead mouse. He doesn’t tell me to open it. He simply stands there, letting me decide.
I already decided. I made my decision when I found out I was pregnant. I made an oath when I believed I was dying.
It’s all or nothing now.
I look at his handsome face as I accept his offering and unzip the box. What I see in his eyes are respect and approval. I see the things I thought he’d never give me, things he reserved for other people only. I see us, the way it can be, working a room like the Powells. I see him looking at me like Thomas Powell looked at his wife. Like a man who admires a woman. That is what I hold onto when I lower my gaze and flip back the lid of the box.
The world around me fades away. My thoughts and senses condense into a single awareness. My sole focus is on the object in front of me.