Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 39068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 195(@200wpm)___ 156(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Chapter Five
Antonio
“Buongiorno,” Angelo, one of my hired servants murmurs, rushing to my side when I crack an eye against the sun.
Fuck. Did I pass out on the deck last night?
I’m sprawled in a chaise lounge, my white tuxedo shirt unbuttoned to my chest.
Angelo holds a tray with various juice options–orange, grapefruit, tomato. Or is that a Bloody Mary? My stomach turns. I reach for the orange juice.
“Ham and cheese omelet with sourdough toast,” I order. I don’t even know what food is on this boat, but I assume they can figure that out.
“Si signore.”
“Make one for my bride, as well.”
“She has already eaten, sir.”
For some reason, that answer irritates the piss out of me. Whether it’s because my bride ate without me or because I have a bride now, I’m not sure.
If I weren’t still a vengeful fuck, I would get rid of Dahlia quickly. Deposit her in my place in the Hamptons and take up residence in the loft on Billionaire Row. I could visit her a few times a month to get her pregnant. Once she’s pregnant, she could be shut away for good. I would only require her to trot out and accompany me to society events once every few months.
I wouldn’t have this need to continue stealing from her. To take and take until there’s nothing of her left that doesn’t belong to me–her body, her mind, her will.
I did allow her to sleep alone last night. After she reminded me how beneath her I am–that I stole her from her legitimate fiance, I left her in our master suite and spent the night drinking myself into a stupor. That’s how I ended up waking on the deck of my newly acquired yacht.
The sound of a helicopter flying overhead gets me onto my feet and reaching for a gun.
My men emerge from all directions, holding machine guns all pointed toward the approaching helicopter.
“Put the weapons away.” My bride strides onto the deck in a short mini-dress and wide-brimmed sun hat with a large navy bow at the back and a pair of huge sunglasses.
Before the thought has even reached my brain, I’m running for her, needing to get her safely below deck.
I pull up short when my tiny wife lifts an arm gaily in the air and waves at the helicopter with a broad, Hollywood smile on her face. “Smile and wave, Antonio,” she says between bared teeth. “That’s the press.”
The…what?
I twist to look up at the helicopter. My brain and body are still telling me this is an attack, but I realize she must be right. If they were going to shoot at us, they would’ve done it by now.
I did just hijack the wedding of New York’s most famous belle. It makes sense that the press might be here to try to catch us on our honeymoon and figure out how this all happened.
“Guns away,” I snap, tucking my own back in the holster at my ankle.
I put my arm around my prize wife and join her in a jaunty wave.
It occurs to me that she could’ve sent up a distress signal. Waved both arms or somehow looked frantic and in need of rescue. The fact that she directed my men to hide their weapons and look appropriate surprises me.
I’m not dumb enough to believe she’s on board with this wedding or even that she intends to be compliant. At least she’s doing her duty at the moment.
The helicopter circles the yacht, and I verify that she’s right–a camera lens winks in the sun.
“Give them a good show, princess.” I wrap my other arm around her and bend her backward in a dip, then kiss the fuck out of those lush lips of hers.
She goes still, shocking me by accepting the kiss. I sense the thump of her heart against my chest as she begins to move her lips against mine. I thrust my tongue in her mouth, sweeping it boldly, fucking her with it. My dick thickens and stretches along my leg, pressing into her belly.
And then I don’t want to stop. I no longer give a shit about the helicopters or the reporters. I don’t care what kind of photos they get.
All I want is to conquer the beautiful debutante who thinks she’s too good for me. She may believe I’m beneath her, but that doesn’t change the fact that her body responds to me. That her curiosity over what I could give her, what I could make her feel, never died.
I’m suddenly locked in and laser-focused on only one goal: winding up my new wife. Making sure she’s hot and needy and desperate for what I can give her.
And I can’t fucking wait until I know exactly what that pretty face of hers looks like when she comes.
I slide one of my hands down to her ass, kneading the soft flesh there. This is how I lost myself last time.