Total pages in book: 163
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 148612 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 743(@200wpm)___ 594(@250wpm)___ 495(@300wpm)
Her towels were in a warmer and felt nice against her abused body. She needed nice. The bruising looked worse. Her body still ached. Hurt. Her heart hurt. Her soul. She thought about the way Valentino had looked facing the capos in that room. He belonged there. He had always intended to be there. The things Parisi had said about loving a woman hadn’t changed the expression on Val’s face at all.
She knew once in the organization, once a made man, you didn’t get out unless you died. Blood in, blood out. That was the way of life Valentino had been born into. He was now the reigning king. He looked every inch that king, and those around that table had treated him with that respect—and fear. Watching him in the interrogation room, barely working up a sweat, completely dispassionate as he took apart human beings who had betrayed his family, she could understand that fear. She felt it herself.
It wasn’t as if her brothers couldn’t be the same. She’d seen them be that way, but Valentino was utterly removed from her. So far away. She knew if she had sparked a nerve ending, looking for him, letting that fire travel to him, the flames wouldn’t have found him. The Val she knew was gone. The man in that room was someone else. Someone terrifying. Someone who had trapped her, bound her to him and refused to let her go, but he had left her.
Her top drawer held her night attire. She normally slept in the nude. She didn’t like anything to twist around her, not even the sheets, especially after the shadow tubes, but she planned on filling out the complicated arranged marriage questionnaire. She had printed it out, although it was strictly an online program no one else was ever supposed to see—not even members of the council. Supposedly. She had her doubts about that. The questionnaire was very personal and exacting. Some of the questions made her blush. She didn’t want anyone to see her answers—not even the computer.
Emmanuelle pulled on a nearly nonexistent crimson thong that matched the nearly sheer crimson silk top that slipped over her head and draped in a deep vee in both front and back, held up by only spaghetti straps. The material barely covered her breasts. She didn’t mind; she felt hot and unsettled as she reached for the thick sheaf of papers and for the hundredth time began to reread them, this time with a pencil, determined to fill them out.
Emmanuelle’s eyes opened wide, awareness rushing in, her hand sliding under her pillow, fingers searching for the knife she kept there. It was gone. She inhaled, dragging the masculine scent into her lungs. She should have known. The only person who could enter her home without her knowledge was Valentino. He was too much a part of her, already connected to her—a shadow sliding into her house without tripping a single alarm.
She sat up slowly, pulling the sheet with her, aware she’d fallen asleep wearing only the crimson top and thong set, which left little to the imagination. He still wore his suit, the one that cost the earth and had been tailored to fit his wide shoulders and perfectly sculpted body. He looked what he was, invincible, the reigning king of the underworld, a man not to cross. His eyes were dark green, his gaze fixed on her like she was prey, not the woman he loved.
“What are you doing here?”
Valentino sat in the chair beside the bed, facing her. He held a thick mass of papers in his hand, up high, along with a lighter, the flame flickering. “Do you want to tell me what the fuck these are, Emme?” His voice was low, that same voice he’d used in the conference room when he was identifying the traitors to his organization. Almost a caress. Almost velvet.
She gasped and crawled toward the edge of the bed, at the last moment making a lunge for the papers as he lit the corners of them with his lighter, the greedy orange flame rushing up the paper. She’d spent forever trying to fill out those papers, agonizing over every answer. “You have no right to be in here. It took me forever to fill those out. And they were private.”
He shouldn’t have read them. No one was supposed to read them. Some of those answers were extremely private. No one was supposed to see them. She had printed out the papers and would eventually transfer those answers back to the computer program that would supposedly match her with the correct mate and then destroy her answers so no one would ever see anything she or her chosen partner wrote other than the two of them. It was a newer program, and one the riders hoped would make the arranged marriages more workable.