Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126060 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Deana Miller took lessons at the studio in Little Italy. Amaranthe had never instructed her, but she had been a student there for going on fourteen years. Two months earlier she suddenly stopped coming to dance. She had a good reputation as a hardworking student and the other instructors had told Amaranthe it was a pity she stopped coming because she was an excellent dancer and had such potential. She was seventeen years old. Amaranthe had made a note to visit her and determine whether she needed a scholarship to continue the program. Reading over her file, Amaranthe could see her family had struggled to pay the fees. Deana always had a part-time job to help. She seemed an unlikely candidate for the Boutlers to get their hooks into, but then so was Priscilla.
Leslie Van Ray was the final girl on the list that the Boutlers wanted as an usher. She was sixteen and also trained at the academy in Little Italy. There didn’t seem to be a connection between Jenny Porthman and either girl from Little Italy. Certainly the two girls didn’t move in the same circles as Jenny. Rossi had looked for a connection between the Leslie Van Ray, Deana Miller and Priscilla Clake and hadn’t found one there, either. It appeared as if the girls were chosen at random.
Geno didn’t believe the four girls were chosen randomly by the Boutler family to assist them. Jenny’s family had money, and she had access to that money. She was good at manipulating her mother into giving her whatever she wanted, but the other three girls didn’t have nearly her wealth. Priscilla came the closest to Jenny’s family financially, but the other two weren’t even close.
He considered what Amaranthe had told them about sextortion. Had the Boutler family managed to con the girls into sending nude pictures of themselves? Or videos? Had they been compromised and now were they being threatened with sextortion if they didn’t do what they were told? Geno was certain that was the most likely possibility.
Since the girls were minors, Geno would have preferred they be far away from the theater when the Boutlers made their move, but he didn’t want to chance tipping the family off that they were walking into a trap.
The days of rehearsals went without incident. Amaranthe had her own personal protectors in the form of riders hidden in the shadows in her dressing room, in the wings of the stage and everywhere else she went. She was never alone. Geno and his brothers listened to her every argument, but they ignored her protests. In the end, he was grateful she found humor in the situation, rather than get angry over it. She could have. He even accompanied her into the bathroom. He was that paranoid.
Geno despised the fact that he’d agreed to allow Amaranthe out in public. He didn’t care that she was an elite rider. He only cared that she was his world, and if anything happened to her, it was on him because he hadn’t protected her adequately.
The night before the opening of her performance, he couldn’t sleep. He couldn’t even stay still. He’d made love to her slowly and gently, but once she had drifted off, he had to pace the length of the room, back and forth like a caged animal, furious with himself for giving in because she had those eyes, and he couldn’t bear to see her unhappy.
“Geno.” Amaranthe sat up, pulling the covers over her breasts. “What is it?”
He tried not to snarl like a wild animal, but he felt like one. Feral. With the way he’d been shoving his hand through his hair, he was certain he looked a little wild. “I was crazy to agree to this. To risk your life.”
Her dark eyes drifted over his face with that look that should have made things better, but only made them worse because he could lose her. He could lose seeing that expression he knew was love.
“I wouldn’t survive, Danzatrice Ombra.” He shoved both hands through his hair again and faced her. “I know that makes me sound pathetic and weak. I don’t really give a damn if I sound that way. It’s the truth. I’ve never had what you give me. Not from anyone. Is giving you what you want really worth risking your life? Is it, Amaranthe? Because I don’t think it is.”
She thought for a long time before she spoke. “Honey, it wouldn’t be worth the risk if this was just something I wanted to do. But it’s something I need to do. I’ve trained to bring justice to people like this since I was a toddler. I don’t know any other way of life. Essentially, it’s who I am. In my deepest core, it’s who I am. I know it’s hard on you to stand aside, and I love you all the more for it.”