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)
He's changed, though. The bad boy has become a man, and where he seemed dangerous before, now he’s deadly.
He cages my throat with his hand and uses it to turn my head this way and that, like he's examining me. Like I’m a prize horse he’s thinking of buying at auction.
He runs his thumb across my lower lip. "Because bella. You're the reason this whole thing began. So, in a way, you're the one who made me the Yacht King."
The man speaks in riddles. I try to lunge off his lap, but he doesn't allow it.
He holds my waist fast and reaches up to pull the pins out of my hair. "You'll wear your hair down for me," he orders.
I choose to ignore the obnoxious edict and run my fingers through the front of my hair. “It's not going to look right,” I tell him. Not because I believe it’s my job to look the way he wants me to. More because I hate the feeling of my stiff, unnatural waves right now. I hate updos. “There's too much hairspray in it."
“Let me see.” Antonio adds his fingers to the mix, combing through and arranging it to one side. He tucks a lock behind my ear.
There's a false tenderness to the gesture that makes me shiver. It’s like I wish it were real. And the falseness of it frightens me.
“You'll dress for me, now.”
This time, I can't hold back. “Go to hell,” I snap. “I don't know what's going on, but I won't be sticking around to find out.”
His expression turns to steel. “Oh you will, Dahlia. You’re my wife now. And your parents’ lives depend on your continued cooperation, bella. But please, as I suggested before, test me. Taking you in hand will be my great pleasure.”
His words make me squirm. I twist over his lap. I tell myself I’m trying to get free of it, but it’s possible I’m trying to alleviate the ache in my core his words produced.
“I feel sick,” I complain. Just like my parents, Antonio treats me like an errant child. So I respond with petulance.
Still holding me tight with one arm, Antonio reaches for a glass bottle of sparkling water, which he opens and holds to my lips.
I try to take it from his hands, but he pulls it away, out of my reach. He doesn’t bring it back to my lips until I lower my hands. I accept the drink, suddenly desperately thirsty.
The limo rolls to a stop, and Antonio waits until a man in a suit opens the back door for us. He looks like he’s part of the mob, too.
Antonio hands me out and speaks to him in Italian. The man answers smoothly as Antonio alights and takes my hand.
I strain to understand their conversation, but I don’t know any Italian, and my prep school Latin was too dismal to be of much use. The only language I actually acquired was French, and that’s because my parents sent me to summer school in Paris.
“Come, Principessa.” Antonio tugs me toward the yacht that was meant to be a showy wedding gift from my father to me and Jake. Something all the society pages would photograph and write about.
Seventy-five meters in length, the enormous vessel features a pool and jacuzzi tub on the exterior decks, a stunning, double-height atrium, and four interior decks. A cinema lounge and fine dining room are available for entertaining the guests who could sleep in any of the six staterooms. The master suite has vaulted beamed ceilings and largess fit for a king.
My father named her The Honeymoon. He showed it to me when it was finished, not because it was truly a gift to me, but so that I would memorize all the features and details. So I could extol its virtues when I gave tours of it and hosted political meetings and parties here.
I can’t imagine how much he must be withering now at how things turned out. His entire fortune and his precious prize daughter–his only child–were claimed by a mafia boss. Our reputation is forever sullied by crime.
As Antonio propels me toward the yacht, I balk. Somehow I know that if I get on The Honeymoon, there will be no going back. It’s as if the vows I swore in the church weren’t real, but this will be. This is the moment when everything changes.
I cast a wild look around, hoping to see someone who works for my father or a policeman. Anyone who might help.
Antonio says nothing, but in the next moment, I’m up over his shoulder being carried down the gangway.
“Stop it!” I kick my legs. “Put me down! I’m not going with you.”
Antonio ignores my protests, swinging me in the ignominious position like a sack of potatoes onto the yacht.
That’s when I realize none of my father’s staff is on the ship. They’ve all been replaced by the mafia. Men who appear armed and dangerous.