Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
It’s hard to imagine anyone or anything being afraid of Marialena.
I shake my head. “Maybe. It’s not worth risking it. Better to just watch them from a distance.”
“Oh my God,” she whispers again. “No way.”
“What?”
“Is my hard-ass husband sympathetic to dolphins?”
Am I? I shrug.
“Maybe.”
“Maybe? Oh I love that! Ha!”
I didn’t expect someone who grew up so wealthy and privileged to be so easily amused or excited, but everything seems to delight her. Everything.
I’ve hardly gotten to know the woman, but I’m starting to see why the staff fell for her so quickly. It’s hard not to.
Remember your purpose.
I married her for a reason.
I can’t forget who I am.
I can’t forget why I married her.
I can’t forget how much I hate the Rossis and how perfectly this worked out in my favor.
And I definitely can’t let myself become enchanted with her.
I wonder if I can have a night, though. Just one night where I let her bewitch me and revel in her charms.
Just one night.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Marialena
I wish I could call my sister. I wish I could call my friend Sassy, or my brothers’ wives. It seems selfish to keep the awesomeness of this place to myself, but something tells me if I start going on and on to anyone on the phone about this, Salvatore might not like it.
So far, I’ve seen the swell of smoke from the dragon’s lair, I’ve heard the jangle of the treasure he hoards, and I’ve even been burnt by his fiery breath. But I know I haven’t seen the full force of the fire-breathing dragon he most certainly is.
Mama always told me I was too impetuous, too “pie in the sky” for my own good, that my optimism would bite me in the ass. But I never understood why.
I won’t lie and say the weight of what happened today doesn’t bring me down. When I glance down at my hand and see the golden ring on my finger, I almost wince. This isn’t a joyride or a date. I’ve taken vows of forever to a man I hardly know. A man who isn’t afraid of violence, who craves dominating me, who has hard and fast expectations of my behavior.
But I’ve always known I’d end up with someone just like him. I told myself for a while I might escape the shackles of marriage, but I knew if I didn’t, it would definitely be to a man like Salvatore.
He won’t love me, I know that. We’ll be together in name only, like everyone else in his family and half the people in mine. Yes, some of my siblings have managed to marry happily, but in the grand scheme of mob life, that’s the exception to the rule. And if I let myself hope…
I remember what Romeo said. I remember his warning. Romeo said he went to jail for murdering his betrothed…
“Salvatore?”
“Yes?”
“Can I ask you a question?”
“You just did.”
He might be a man to be feared, but he’s honest, I’ll give him that. I know it likely has to do with the fact that he literally doesn’t fear anyone or the consequences, but it’s something I hold onto.
“Did you kill a woman you were betrothed to?”
I’m not prepared for the complete lack of reaction from him. No blinks, no flaring of the nostrils, not even so much as a twitch of his fingers. “I did. She attempted to poison me, and we’ve already established that’s a foolish thing to do.”
I’m not sure what to make of that. “She tried to poison you?”
He nods. “Her family tried to take advantage of mine. I didn’t allow it. When I caught her attempting to take my life, she left me no choice. Unfortunately for me, her family had a legal team that had a few connections.”
I don’t know what to think of his response. On the one hand, I’m grateful for his honesty. On the other…
How would Romeo handle it if someone he was engaged to attempted to take his life?
“We’re almost there,” he says, as if what we just discussed had no significance at all. If I were a normal person, I’d feel sickened by it all, but I’m not. I wonder if something inside me is broken.
The hotel on the island looks nothing like his home in Tampa. It towers high into the night, the lighting and landscaping like something out of a movie. I reach out and gently stroke the wide, violet blossoms of tall flowers that line the walkway leading to the hotel entrance. For some reason, Salvatore shakes his head, but he looks only bemused, not angry.
His men take our luggage, and uniformed guards flank our sides. If there are other people at this hotel, they’ve hidden themselves well.
“It’s quiet here,” I say. “Is anyone else here?”
“There’d better not be,” he says with a scowl.
I blink. “You rented a whole private island, then?”