Total pages in book: 159
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157450 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 787(@200wpm)___ 630(@250wpm)___ 525(@300wpm)
She shines. Her smile. Her eyes. She takes my breath away.
I’m a lucky guy.
Mrs. Demachi fills the glasses and distributes them—only to the men. Alessia’s father lifts his glass. “Gëzuar,” he says, and there’s a look of relief in his shrewd, dark eyes.
This time I know what that means. I raise my own glass.
“Gëzuar,” I repeat, and Thanas and Tom echo the toast. We all upend our glasses and down our drinks. It’s the fieriest, most lethal liquid that I’ve ever poured into my throat.
I try not to cough. And fail.
“That’s great,” I lie.
“Raki,” Alessia whispers, and she’s trying to hide her smile.
Demachi sets down his glass and refills it, then refills the rest.
Another? Shit. I mentally prepare myself.
Alessia’s father raises his raki once more. “Bija ime tani është problem yt dhe do të martoheni, këtu, brenda javës.” He downs his shot and brandishes his gun with a look of glee.
Thanas quietly translates. “My daughter is your problem now. And you’ll be married, here, within a week.”
What?
Fuck.
Chapter Thirty-Three
A week!
I give Alessia a bemused smile, and she grins and releases my hand.
“Mama!” she blurts, and I watch her run to her mother, who’s been standing patiently in the kitchen. They embrace and cling to each other as if they’ll never let go, and both begin to silently weep in that way that women do.
It’s…affecting.
It’s obvious they’ve missed each other. More than missed each other.
Her mother wipes away her daughter’s tears, speaking rapidly in her native tongue, and I have no idea what they are saying. Alessia’s laugh is more of a gurgle, and they hug each other again.
Her father watches them and turns to me.
“Women. They are so emotional.” Thanas translates his words, but Demachi looks relieved, I think.
“Yes,” I answer, my voice gruff, and I hope I sound manly. “She’s missed her mother.”
But not you.
Alessia’s mother relinquishes her, and Alessia steps toward her father. “Baba,” she murmurs, her eyes wide once more.
I hold my breath, poised to intervene if he so much as lays a finger on her.
Demachi raises his hand and gently holds her chin. “Mos u largo përsëri. Nuk është mirë për nënën tënde.”
Alessia gives him a timid smile, and he leans down and kisses her forehead, closing his eyes as he does. “Nuk është mirë as për mua,” he whispers.
I look at Thanas, waiting for his translation, but he’s turned away, giving them this moment—and I think maybe I should, too.
* * *
It’s late, I’m exhausted but I can’t sleep. Too much has happened, and my mind is racing. I lie awake staring at the dancing, watery reflections on the ceiling. The patterns that form are so comforting in their familiarity that I grin. They mirror my ecstatic mood. I’m not in London, I’m at my soon-to-be-in-laws’, and the reflections are from the full moon, skipping over the deep, dark waters of Fierza Lake.
I didn’t have a choice about where I stayed—Demachi insisted it should be here. My room is on the ground floor, and though sparsely furnished, it’s comfortable and warm enough and has a splendid view of the lake.
There’s a rustle at the door, and Alessia sneaks in and closes it behind her. All my senses come alive, and my heart starts pounding. She tiptoes toward the bed, her body swathed in the most virginal, all-covering, Victorian-style nightdress I have ever seen. Suddenly I feel that I’m in a gothic novel, and I want to laugh at the ridiculousness of this situation. But she places her finger to her lips and then in one swift move draws her nightgown over her head and drops it onto the floor.
I stop breathing.
Her beautiful body is bathed in the pale light of the moon.
She’s perfect.
In every way.
My mouth dries, and my body stirs.
I toss back the covers, and she slides into bed beside me, gloriously naked.
“Hello, Alessia,” I whisper, and my lips find hers.
And without words we embrace our reunion, her passion taking me by surprise. She’s unleashed; her fingers, hands, tongue and lips are on me. And mine on her.
I’m lost.
And found.
Oh, the feel of her.
And when she throws her head back in ecstasy, I cover her mouth to stifle her cries and bury my face in her soft, lush hair and join her.
* * *
When we’re quiet once more, she nestles in my arms, her body entwined with mine as she dozes. She must be exhausted.
I let my contentment seep into my bones.
I’ve got her back. The love of my life is with me, where she belongs. Although if her father knew she was here, he’d shoot us both, I’m sure.
Watching her with her parents these last few hours, I’ve learned so much about her. Her emotional reunion with her mother—and her father—was affecting. I think he does love her. Very much.
But it seems like she’s been fighting against her upbringing since before I met her, fighting to be her own person. And she’s succeeded. Plus, she’s taken me on an epic journey of self-discovery with her. I want to spend the rest of my life with this woman. I love her so much, and I want to give her the world. She deserves nothing less.