Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 81292 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 406(@200wpm)___ 325(@250wpm)___ 271(@300wpm)
He was so … polite about it.
I’d never known a man to be so sweet.
He looked so scary. What man wouldn’t with the few scars I saw peeking out from beneath the collar of his shirt. That’s another thing I like about him, he’s always looking rather dashing. He is a man in constant control.
When I’m with him around his home, I notice how his men respect him.
All of them do.
Not a single one gives me a sneer, even though I sense their judgment. I’m a Russo, so to them, I’m the enemy. Always the enemy.
There’s nothing I can do to change that.
We walked down to dinner together, and I didn’t feel like a prisoner. His maids served us, and he demanded they left us alone, and I wasn’t frightened of him.
If I’d been at home, I would’ve been terrified of what was to come. My father wasn’t a nice man. He was one hungry for power.
Did I miss home?
I hate to admit it, but seeing as I’m only writing in this book and not saying it aloud, no, I don’t.
There’s nothing to miss.
The endless threats of being forced into a marriage. The constant attacks. There is nothing I miss. Absolutely nothing. Why would I?
Valentino is a different kind of man. He’s sweet, kind, and he makes my heart flutter. I can’t believe I’m admitting that, but I am.
Even when he comes to the bedroom, and I have to scream, to me, it’s just a game we’re playing.
How I wish I knew what was going on inside that head of his.
Did he want me for himself?
Was this a power play?
So many questions, and I’m almost terrified to go hunting for the answers.
Would there be any point?
When my father takes me, there will be no hope for me. He’s told me many times that men are only interested in virgins and with the rumors running rife around this very house, there is going to be no doubt whatsoever that I’m not a virgin.
Why does he do it?
Does he care?
****
We shared more meals together. I’ve lost count of the number of times he’s come for me. Each night is the same. There is always a beautiful dress waiting for me. There’s a sweet maid to help me change into. She works for Valentino.
Whatever I ask for is in my hands within hours.
A book.
A trinket.
There is nothing too much, and I don’t know how it happens. I just know that I … enjoy it.
I love being with Valentino De Luca, and the man hasn’t even kissed me yet. I’m starting to think he has no feelings for me at all.
Each night, we’ll enjoy a nice, long meal together. I’ve never been one for a sweet tooth, but I will request dessert just to make my time with him last.
I find him so intoxicating.
What is wrong with me?
He stole me away. Took me from a life I knew, one that I hated more than anything in the world, and I’m … happy.
Is it wrong for me to be happy?
My dad would have slapped me silly by now.
Valentino always asks me about my day. He wants to know if I had a good day. A bad one. What he could do to help improve my time with him.
How do I tell him that the only thing I want is a guarantee to never take me back? To never let my father get to me?
Even if he doesn’t love me or care for me. I would settle for him having the mildest of feelings because I think I feel enough for him for the two of us. Is that so wrong?
I hate this.
I don’t want to cry, but as I write this, I am.
Does he not know how I feel? How it feels to have his hands on me? After dinner, dessert, and a nightcap, he’d escort me back to my room, hand at the base of my spine. Some nights, he’d come into my room, where he’d give me demands. Nothing was ever inappropriate. If he needed me to change, he turned his back, or asked for me to change in the bathroom.
Does he want me?
Am I a fool for pushing this?
I… I … I think I’m in love with Valentino De Luca, and I know in the end, those feelings would get me killed.
****
It happened!
Oh, my God. I cannot believe I get to write this, but Valentino De Luca, I have to write his name, to remind myself over and over again, that it happened. He finally kissed me. Not a sloppy drunken kiss, but something so much more.
His fingers danced in my hair. His gaze was on mine.
My entire body was frozen in anticipation, hungry for every look, every single touch. I’ve been wanting this kiss for some time, and I don’t even know what led up to it. Maybe I do, a little.