Total pages in book: 123
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114584 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 573(@200wpm)___ 458(@250wpm)___ 382(@300wpm)
She doesn’t make it far before one of my men grabs her, tugging her by the arm a little too roughly. I grit my teeth, my jaw clenching as I bite back the need to tell him to get his fucking hands off of her. Anger zings through me when he tugs her again, and she loses her balance falling onto the ground, scraping her knees and legs in the process.
“Let go of me!” She screams, sobs ripping from her lungs in quick succession as she pulls against Roger’s hold, trying to break free. The strap of her nightgown slips off her shoulder in the process, and she almost flashes a tit at my men.
Fuck no. No one gets to see what is mine.
Walking over to her, I gesture for Roger to let her go, and he does almost as quickly as he grabbed her, retreating two steps back. I’ll deal with him later. Right now, I need to get her inside and put her in some different clothes. My men have seen enough of her already.
Looking down at her exposed legs, I see scratches from where she fell, so I’ll need to make sure she isn’t actually hurt. Reaching down, I grab her by the hips, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my hands and toss her over my shoulder like I did earlier.
A growl forms in my throat as I become aware of how she barely weighs anything.
She doesn’t even fight me and rests motionless on my shoulder as I carry her into the house, through the foyer, and up the stairs to the bedroom we will share. Pushing the heavy wooden door open, my shoes slap against the tile as I walk across the room and deposit her on my bed… our bed. The moment her butt hits the mattress, she looks up and scoots backward until her back is pressed against the headboard.
Big green eyes brim with fear. I could tell her she is safe here, that nothing bad will happen to her. But that would be a lie. She isn’t safe yet, especially not from me.
“Stay here, get comfortable. I’ll be back soon,” I tell her as I slowly walk back toward the door. I’ve got blood to spill before I can tend to my new toy.
Looking at my beautiful prize one last time, I close the door and lock it behind me.
I let the anger that I was swallowing down boil up to the surface as I make my way through the mansion and toward the front door.
Stepping outside, I find Edwardo guarding the porch. He turns to look at me, his hand reaching for his gun before he recognizes it’s me.
“Is Roger still out here?”
“Yes, boss. He is doing a round over the west lawn. Is everything okay?”
“It will be…” I snap before walking off and into the night.
3
Elena
Huddled against the headboard, I watch as the door closes, the last sliver of his face disappearing behind the wood and the lock clicking into place. The sound is only a reminder of how trapped I am here, how I was taken from one cage, and put in another.
At least with my father, I knew where I stood. Or I least I thought I did. I knew what was going to happen each day, and I had some freedoms, not many, but not none. Now, I have nothing. No structure, no freedom, no say in anything… not even over my own body.
My life is no longer my own. I’ve been sold by my father to this evil villainous man.
“She is now yours, do with her as you please.”
My father’s words replay in my head. I can’t believe he did this, sold me to Moretti.
Tears slide down my cheeks as I stare at the door. The room is lavish, manly, and blanketed in grays and dark blues. If the circumstances were different, I might actually be able to appreciate the beauty of it.
After a few minutes of staring at the door, I move off the bed to search for some type of way out of this room.
Walking to the first door I find, I discover an entire closet filled with clothing. I look down at my partially ripped nightgown. Who knew when I put this thing on tonight that it would be the last thing I would have from my old life?
I feel exposed and vulnerable in nothing but this, so I pull it off altogether and throw it on the ground. Quickly, I grab one of the shirts off a hanger.
I’m not sure if he is going to be mad at me for taking his stuff. Will he hurt me if I do? Punish me? Deciding it is worth the risk, I pull it on over my head and let it drift down before shoving my arms through the sleeves. The shirt is more like a dress, and the hem comes to rest against my bruised knees. A shiver snakes down my spine at the size difference between us. This man could easily hurt me, snap my neck, or take whatever he wants. My lungs burn, and I realize I’m not actually breathing.