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)
“Dahlia!” He flicks a nervous glance in both directions, then cracks open the door to the cockpit and pulls me through it and into a hug. Then he whisper-hisses in my ear, “Your father sent me a message for you. He said he’s going to get us both out of this.”
Hearing footsteps outside, I pull myself out of his grasp. “It’s good to see you!” I say loudly.
Antonio growls behind me, “Hands off my wife, or I will cut them off and throw them to the fucking sharks.”
His wife.
The words send shockwaves through my body.
“Antonio!” I jerk back, putting at least three feet between me and the captain. “Stop. He’s a family friend–I mean, an employee, that’s all.”
I thank God for Antonio’s apparent jealousy. It seems to have distracted him from realizing Shawn passed me a message.
“He’s nothing to you.” Antonio says it like a warning. “You come near this stronzo again, and I will throw him overboard. Are we clear?”
It’s perfect. I should be terrified. Appalled. But something warm slithers through my chest.
Antonio’s alpha male possessiveness is over the top and absurd. But in addition to it serving as a distraction, it gets me hot. I like him staking his claim over me. It turns me on. I craved this man’s attention, and now I have it. And with it comes a sense of power.
I place my hand in the center of his chest and give him a push. He allows me to back him out of the cockpit.
“Relax. I was just saying hello.”
Antonio’s face is still twisted in a scowl.
“You basically abducted me. You took me from my family onto a vessel with complete strangers. It shouldn’t shock you that I’d be happy to see a familiar face.”
Some of his irritation seems to ease.
He pulls me toward him and tucks me under his arm to escort me toward our bedroom. “Don’t speak to him again.”
I refuse to agree.
“Dahlia,” he warns. “Do you want him dead?”
This is too much. I stop, digging my heels in, so Antonio has to stop, too. “You can’t kill everyone I talk to.”
He raises his brows and pierces me with a cold gaze. “Try me. You’re my wife. I would murder anyone who touches or disrespects you.”
I shiver. “You really are a monster, aren’t you?”
His expression contorts, the cold mask breaking to show that I hit a nerve, but then he quickly recovers. “I am what your family made me.”
I scoff. “My family isn’t mafia. Yours is.” I lift my nose in the air and take on a goody-two-shoes air. “Blaming others for your own failings is a bad look on you.”
“And stuck-up snob is a bad look on you.”
I hide my wince. I knew that’s what he thought of me, but it still wounds me to hear him say it out loud.
“So, exactly who am I allowed to speak to on this yacht?” I demand.
Antonio hesitates. “No one. No one but me.”
I throw my hands in the air and start marching toward the sun deck. “That’s absurd. You are absolutely insane.”
“Don’t test me,” he warns, but I’ve already made up my mind.
I’m definitely about to call his bluff.
I stride up to a grouping of his men standing near the rails. He’s not going to throw his mafia soldiers overboard when I speak to them.
“Hi guys.” I try out my flirty voice. “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” I touch the nearest guy on the shoulder and step close. “I’m Dahlia.”
“Get away from her,” Antonio barks.
In the next moment, I find myself flung over his shoulder. My short dress rides up to my waist, no doubt giving the men a view of my panty-clad ass. “Don’t look at her,” Antonio roars as he stomps away. My trunk swings behind his back.
Instead of taking me to our bedroom, he walks into one of the other staterooms–apparently an uninhabited one–and deposits me on the crisply-made queen-sized bed.
He towers over me, but rather than finding his large, imposing visage intimidating, I’m turned on by the cave-man display of possessiveness. My gaze tracks his large hands curled into fists at his sides, how good he looks, even in yesterday’s rumpled tuxedo.
“Clothing restriction.” Antonio’s voice is a choked growl, his dark brows slash down. He tugs my dress up over my head. He doesn’t hurt me, but his movements are rough and jerky.
Gone is the smooth, revenge-is-a-dish-served-cold man who ordered me about in cool, manicured tones last night.
This man feels more raw. More real.
I’m totally turned on. I’m also far more wary of him. I don’t want to anger the bull. I allow him to strip me of my bra and panties. I even kick off my sandals myself–a show of surrender.
Antonio stoops to pick up my dress, panties and bra. He points a finger at me. “I warned you.”