Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75472 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 252(@300wpm)
I adjust the silky fabric around my legs before tugging the safety belt over my chest and securing it.
Anger rolls off Giorgio in waves as he climbs into the car. He starts the engine, and pulling away from the curb, he mutters, “Don’t fucking embarrass me tonight. Attending a party at Mr. Rizzo’s mansion is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. You should be fucking happy I’m bringing you along.”
I’d rather stay at home.
Glancing out the window, I don’t take in any of the passing scenery.
After everything that’s happened the past two weeks – the repeated beatings, Angelo popping up everywhere, the attack from Damiano, the visit from all five heads of the Cosa Nostra – I’m done.
It is what it is, and nothing I do will change my crappy circumstances.
When Giorgio pulls up to a pair of massive black gates, a guard dressed in black combat gear approaches us.
Of course, Angelo would have an army guarding him. The man has more money than God.
Giorgio quickly rolls down the window, and with a smug voice filled with self-entitlement, he says, “Mr. Romano for Mr. Rizzo.”
Mr. Romano. Give me a break.
I cover my mouth as laughter threatens to burst from me.
The guard glances at me before signaling for the gate to be opened.
When Giorgio steers the car up the long driveway, he lets out a whistle. “Once your inheritance pays out, I’m buying a place like this.”
I take in the impressively manicured gardens. Someone must put a lot of effort into keeping the trees and hedges neatly trimmed.
It’s beautiful.
When my eyes land on the mansion that seems to be bathed in rose-gold light as the sun hangs low in the sky, my lips part because I’ve never seen such a breathtaking house.
Ivy covers the side of one wall where a Lamborghini is parked, and I notice two statues of cherubs perched on either side of an arch that seems to lead to the front door.
Trust the devil to live in a place that looks like heaven.
We climb out of the Dodge, and I quickly smooth the wrinkles out of the expensive gown.
It’s the first time Giorgio bought me something like this, and it makes me worry about his motive. His story about us showing a united front is a load of hogwash.
“Don’t embarrass me tonight,” Giorgio mutters under his breath as we walk through the arch.
On either side of the cobbled path is water with smooth pebbles framing the ponds. Bright green creepers with tiny leaves snake between the darker stones, giving the space an enchanted feel. I see Koi hiding beneath floating leaves that sprout small purple flowers.
Wow, this place is straight out of a dream.
The front door is three times the size of ours at home and made of black frosted glass. Before we can knock, it swings open, and we’re met by Big Ricky.
“This way,” he says without bothering to greet us.
I don’t hear music or anything related to a party, and a frown starts to form on my forehead.
Something’s not right.
We’re led past an open-plan living room with a sunken lounge where the furniture consists of black couches and a light-colored wooden coffee table. There’s a massive flat-screen TV mounted against the wall.
I tilt my head back to look at the glass ceiling that gives a clear view of a very old tree, the green leaves rustling in a breeze. The stunning view makes a smile curve my lips.
Wow.
We’re taken into an open space where stairs go up to the first floor on either side of the room. Lifting my eyes, I see Angelo standing on the upper floor area with his hands resting on a wrought iron railing.
Dressed in a three-piece black tuxedo, the man looks more like a god than the devil he is.
A freaking handsome devil, but a devil nonetheless.
My heart thumps heavily in my chest as if it’s getting ready to make a run for it. Every muscle in my body tenses because the wolf’s den is the last place I want to be.
“Welcome,” Angelo murmurs as he walks to the landing before stealthily taking the stairs down to where we are. The low and deadly timbre of his voice has goosebumps spreading over my arms.
God, I can’t believe I’m in Angelo Rizzo’s house.
“Mr. Rizzo, I just want to say how honored I am to be here tonight,” Giorgio says with respect dripping from the words.
Angelo flat-out ignores Giorgio, and coming to a stop in front of me, his eyes drift from my head to my toes, making a blush creep up my neck.
“You look beautiful, Vittoria.”
I clear my throat before whispering, “Thank you.”
“Follow me,” he orders.
An apprehensive feeling turns my stomach into knots, and as we follow Angelo, I hear Big Ricky right behind us.
Every nerve ending in my body is on guard, and my eyes keep darting around, hardly taking in any of the luxury decorating the mansion.