Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72854 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 364(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 243(@300wpm)
My breathing comes in harder and harder, knowing what’s next. I can taste the sweetness of it already as the meat falls onto the platter.
“Carter has a soft spot for her, I think,” Jase offers, and he and Daniel share a look. One of my brothers on each side of me. Both of them ready for when I cue the kitchen.
“I want a nice meal, for fuck’s sake,” I say with a touch of humor to break the tension and put both Stephan and Romano at ease. “We start a war tomorrow. And technically, shots have already been fired,” I say, and shrug then place a small bit of meat onto the platter as Aria’s movements become strained.
“Yes. Here’s to victory,” Romano says, raising the glass of champagne in front of him. The bubbly liquid rises in the air, and with it, both of his hands. It’s like I’m watching in slow motion as I turn my attention to Stephan and see him do the same. An empty hand palm up on the table and his other raised in the air, holding a glass.
“Cheers, bring out the dinner,” I call out as I raise my glass, not bothering to reach for my gun.
My voice rings out and our men from the kitchen bring out the serving dishes. My closest men, disguised as servers, quickly make their way around the room with their trays.
They unveil each of the covered platters at once to reveal their guns, aimed at both Romano and Stephan. All while Aria’s carving the meat with shaky hands.
Stephan and Romano both suck in a breath but keep their hands raised even as curses fill the air, as do the sound of pistols being cocked.
Aria drops the knife on the table, her shoulders hunched and a squeal of both terror and surprise forcing her backward and into my arms. I wish I could have warned her, but Romano is going to live to tell the tale.
Her shoulders are cold in my embrace as I pull her close and whisper, “You’re all right.”
All three of my brothers raise their loaded guns, but I keep my hands on Aria, still trembling. Declan, seated at the opposite head, keeps his gun pointed at Romano and my other two brothers keep theirs pointed at Stephan as they face him.
“What the fuck is this?” Romano is quick to speak with indignation and attempts to lower his arm. My eyes pierce into Stephan’s, who’s staring straight at me with a bitter hate that I’m used to seeing from men I’ve fucked over. It’s always followed by the milky gaze of dead eyes. He doesn’t dare lower his arm. Because he knows the truth better than Romano does.
I hear the distinctive sound of a gun with a silencer going off, but I don’t bother to look and verify that the bullet landed just behind Romano as a warning shot. My eyes stay fixed on Stephan’s. Just as his are on me.
“This is a show for you, Romano,” I finally speak when he stands abruptly. “Help him sit, Jase.”
Without a word, my brother rises and I can just barely see Aria in my periphery. My sweet, haunted girl. She grips the table and watches intently as Jase pulls out the chair for Romano, waiting for him to sit a few feet away from the table where his hands can easily be seen.
Jase stays behind him, his gun still trained on Romano although now he could easily shoot Stephan as well. But his death is for Aria, and Aria alone.
“The knife, Aria.” I address only her. She’s so small on my lap as she looks at me and then slowly around the room. She’s hesitant to pick the knife back up and the cursing yell from Stephan nearly startles her into dropping it again.
The rage in my blood turns from a simmer to a boil. “Even now he holds a fear over you, my Aria,” I tell her in a low voice of reprimand. “I won’t allow it.”
I can feel her skin turn cold as she waits for my command. She’s barely breathing, still scared and confused. With the knife in her hand, I pull her back into my lap, taking my time to calm her so she can see clearly.
Fear can cloud everything, turning reality into falsehoods.
“Are you mad at me, songbird?” I ask her gently, cupping her jaw in my hand. I can feel her swallow tightly and peek back at Stephan before looking at me. “Why?” she asks me with such sadness.
“You needed this,” I whisper against her lips, nearly pressing mine to hers in an effort for her to understand how crucial this moment is, both for her and for us.
Her bottom lip quivers as tears prick the back of her eyes. “I thought you were giving me to him,” she confesses as her voice cracks and her shoulders shudder.