Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 506(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Realizing that Roman is the one calling the shots here, I turn my gaze to him. “Why me?” I ask, the burst of energy from dinner making me brave, but the same fear still pulses through my veins. “Earlier, Marcus called me by name. You know who I am, which means that I wasn’t some random girl you chose to abduct for your wicked games. You targeted me.”
Roman leans forward onto his elbows and rubs his thumb and forefingers over his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. “Yes,” he finally says, giving it to me straight. “We know exactly who you are. We know every last thing there is to know about you, but you were not targeted. We were simply collecting what we were owed.”
I shake my head, my brows furrowing in confusion. “You mean … me?”
Roman nods. “Correct.”
“No,” I rush out. “That’s insane. You’ve got the wrong girl. Owed? What does that even mean? Are you under some fucked-up illusion that you own me? Because that doesn’t make any sense. I haven’t made any weird deals with anyone. I don’t owe anyone any money. I haven’t stolen anything. I mean, I owe my landlord this month’s rent, but he’s not about to go and sell me to you to get even. He’d shit his pants at just the thought of making a deal with you. No,” I repeat, vigorously shaking my head again. “You’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t even have any friends.”
Levi sighs, bored with the conversation. “Is your name Shayne Mariano?” he questions. “Do you go by the name of Shay? Twenty-two years old. Your birthday was in March.”
“I … I mean, yes, that’s me, but you’ve got your wires crossed. There’s been some serious fuck up with the paperwork. So please, drop me back at my apartment so I can go back to my miserable life. Hell, just kick me out the front door. I can find my own way back and you can sort out whatever mix up there was on your end. I won’t even say anything about it, just please, let me go home.”
Marcus laughs, standing from the table and slowly walking toward me, his sickening gaze locked on mine. He walks around the back of my chair and I slowly suck in a deep breath, not trusting him behind me for one second. He leans forward, his chest arching over my seat as his hand comes down on the armrests of the gold-trimmed dining chair.
He reaches around me, and I watch with caution as he takes the knife from my dinner plate, admiring the sparkles of the chandelier’s light dancing across its dull blade. Before I can react, he’s pressing it against the base of my throat.
“Is your father Maxwell Mariano?” he questions, that name sending dread sailing through my veins. There is no mix up here. I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be, no thanks to my father. I slowly nod, letting out a sigh and not even bothering to fear the knife at my throat as I come to grips with my new reality. “Then we have the right girl.”
Marcus laughs and pulls away from me, grabbing a bottle of scotch before making his way back down the long table. Dropping into his seat, he hooks one leg over the armrest and leans back to get comfortable. “Like I said,” he grins, holding the bottle of scotch up in cheers. “Welcome to the family.”
My heart races as I look back at Roman. “Okay, so … what? He’s broke again but instead of stealing from me, he stole from you, and now I’m supposed to repay his debt?”
Roman nods. “Something like that.”
I let out a shaky breath and stand, making all three of them flinch as I begin to pace the floor behind the chair. “So what now? You just … own me? I become part of the furniture, and live down in that torture chamber until you inevitably decide to kill me? I’m just supposed to be your toy to fuck with?”
None of them respond. They just keep watching as I drive myself insane with questions. “Couldn’t you just … Why did you have to ruin my life? He’s the one who fucked up and stole from you. Fuck up his life. He’s a worthless piece of shit. I didn’t … I don’t …”
“Sit. Down,” Roman’s voice flows through the large dining hall.
Needing to calm myself, I sit back down and reach for my drink, and as I take a sip of water and close my eyes, I realize that I’m more fucked than any girl has the right to be.
I’m theirs.
The DeAngelis brothers own me.
I’m their property and there’s nothing I can do to fix this. Death seems to be the only way out of here, and it’s my fucking scumbag father that condemned me to such a fate. His gambling addiction should have been the end of him, but instead, it’s the end of me.