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)
Amaranthe nodded. “I’ve found that out.”
“Taviano and Nicoletta are in the kitchen. We’ve been making dinner in case you hadn’t eaten. It should be ready anytime,” Francesca added. “I’ll meet you there.”
Geno watched her go. “I can’t believe she risked Stefano’s wrath to come. He’s going to lose his mind.”
“Taviano and Nicoletta accompanied her. And she has her own bodyguards,” Lucca pointed out. “Stefano may make a fuss, but he won’t really get anywhere. He acts tough with her, but one look from her and he’s a goner. Everyone knows it.”
Geno took Amaranthe’s hand as they started up the stairs to his room. “Don’t think that’s how it’s going to be with us. I’m far tougher than Stefano.”
Salvatore spoiled the moment by bursting out laughing. Lucca snorted his utter derision. “No one believes you, Geno,” Lucca called after them.
Geno gave his brothers the finger behind his back. It was childish, but the only thing left to him when Amaranthe gave one of her feminine giggles that managed to turn him inside out. He used to be tough. He had no idea where that had gone so damned fast.
“Wear something comfortable, Amara.” He forestalled her questions the minute they got to the tenth floor.
“She looks like a glamourous movie star.”
“She would hate that you think that of her.” Geno caught her chin in his palm and tipped her face up to his. “When Stefano met Francesca, she was homeless. She had no money and hadn’t eaten in a couple of days. Her friend Joanna had sent her money, and she had gone to Chicago on a bus. She had holes in her shoes, and she had given her coat to a homeless woman on the street because it was freezing. She’d saved some of the money Joanna gave her and rented an apartment. No furniture, but she had a sleeping bag. Francesca may have money now, but she knows what it’s like to go without.”
“Really? I would never in a million years have guessed that about her.”
Geno brushed kisses over her upturned lips. “Stop doubting yourself.”
“I’m not.” She hesitated. “Not exactly. I do fine most of the time. The Ferraro family is glamorous whether you like to think so or not. They live life in the fast lane. I’m an observer. I live in the shadows, at least I always have, so I’m most comfortable there. I don’t want you to ever regret choosing me, Geno. Every one of your sisters-in-law seems to be an amazing, accomplished woman. That’s not even mentioning Emmanuelle.”
She looked up at him and smiled. The moment she did, his heart began beating overtime. She did that to him so easily.
“And you’re not accomplished?”
Amaranthe laughed. The sound alone made him fall deeper in love with her just because she brightened his world and chased away every negative emotion. “Shadow riders are, by definition, in the shadows, Geno. The world can’t judge me on my shadow-riding skills.”
He found himself smiling back at her, tilting her face up to his, one thumb sweeping over the tempting curve of her bottom lip. “Not your shadow-riding skills, your dancing skills. You pay no attention, but I read every review I could find. I read my mother’s notes as well as the other board members’. You’re quite famous in your own right. You easily could dance with a prestigious company.”
Faint color spread under her skin and her long lashes veiled her dark eyes just for a moment before she lifted her gaze to his again. When she did, his heart nearly stopped beating. She had a way of looking at him as if he were the only man in the world. He was used to people respecting him. Fearing him. Giving him whatever he wanted. But not looking at him as if the sun rose and set with him. She humbled him. He wasn’t, by nature, a humble man.
He bent his head to hers slowly. He needed to be slow to take her in. That beautiful face, the features so delicate, a perfect oval, high cheekbones, her large, dark chocolate, very expressive eyes surrounded by thick long lashes. He wanted to absorb her, memorize her, imprint her on his very bones for the rest of his life. He inhaled her scent as her lashes fluttered and lowered over her eyes. Her lips parted slightly. Her breasts rose and fell as he pulled her closer—into him—against his chest. She felt so small, yet perfect, as if she’d been made for him.
“I handed you my heart, Amaranthe.” He whispered the admission against the soft curve of her lower lip, barely aloud, barely discernible. “I’m trusting you with whatever I have in the way of a soul.”
Her slender arms slid up his chest, fingers locking around the nape of his neck as she gave him her weight. “You’re safe with me, Geno. You’ll always be safe with me.” Her lips brushed along his. Featherlight.