Bound To Him (Blurred Lines #1) Read Online Belle Aurora

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Mafia, Romance, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Blurred Lines Series by Belle Aurora
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Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 73250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 293(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
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“I never do,” he rumbled the impassive reply before snatching up the cards, placing his hand at my lower back and guiding me to the elevator.

The silence was welcome but I feared it wouldn’t last long. When the doors opened at the 14th floor, I noticed there was only one door in and out. I wondered where the other rooms were. I wanted to ask but didn’t want to look stupid. The truth was, I had never stayed in a hotel before. I hadn’t ever left the state. The farthest I’d ever slept from home was at Zio Como’s, four blocks away from my family home.

My father was the over-protective kind. When he passed, I thought that meant I would gain a little freedom. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been able to predict the point that my sister’s level of protectiveness far outweighed my fathers.

The fact that I remained a virgin at twenty-one was solely because my sister did not allow me to date. And like the good girl I was, I obeyed.

I always obeyed.

Fat lot of good it did you.

Bitterness washed over me.

No shit.

Ettore placed the keycard into the slot. The red light turned green. He pulled on the lever and threw open the door, standing by it. I hesitated. He pinched the bridge of his nose then sighed, agitated. “Vittoria, I have been shot today and lost a decent amount of blood. I am dirty and I am tired as hell. I’m sure you’ll agree with me when I say,” he lifted his head and a spark of anger ignited in his eyes as he spoke through gritted teeth, “I have been patient with you in a way that would test even a saint. So, get your ass into the room because you and I are going to have a little talk.” The guilt I felt then evaporated to nothing when he looked me up and down then uttered, “And if you think I’m going to carry you over the threshold, you are out of your fucking mind.”

Our eyes held as I moved into the room.

I knew he had every right to be mad at me. That didn’t mean I had to like it.

Ettore placed the spare card into a slot by the wall and like magic, all of the lights turned on. I glanced around at the huge area around us.

This wasn’t a room. This was something else. To call it an apartment seemed too little. It was a home. A spectacular home. Furnished to the nines, it looked like something you would find in an upscale real estate magazine.

The large living area trailed off into multiple rooms. At first glance, I could see there were at least two were bedrooms. It had a wide-open balcony with an entertaining area on it. The plush white sofas made my feet ache with the need to go lie down on them. It had high ceilings and a kitchen with sparkling counters that held a stainless-steel ice bucket and in it, a bottle of champagne. I wanted nothing more than the go check out the reading nook, but I held myself still, poised, and waiting for the attack that I was sure would come.

Vincenza had warned me about Ettore Scala.

He was a vicious, blood-thirsty man who would stop at nothing until the Vero family was utterly destroyed.

How disappointed she would be if she could see me now. To know I had let this monster touch me.

To know I had liked it…

I swallowed hard and lowered my gaze. Under my dress, I pressed my legs together as the fresh memory played back in my mind.

Weak, she would call me. Pitiful. A disgrace.

As I battered myself internally, Ettore brushed past me and made for the bar where he poured himself a tumbler of whisky. I blinked in astonishment as he downed it all in one gulp, placing the glass down with a light slam. And then it was a stare off.

His heavy brows furrowed on me and I could tell he was fighting an internal battle, much as I was. And the silence raged on. I was sure he thought I would become self-conscious enough to speak, but I was quiet by nature. I rarely raised my voice and in the odd instance that I did, I was fast to apologize. At home, Vincenza was the boss. And I was… well…

My heart panged.

…Sorry to even exist.

Ettore poured another for himself, this time a more sensible measure. He lifted the glass and held it to his mouth, asking a reluctant, “How old are you?” before tipping it back.

I cleared my bruised throat, stood awkwardly and tried desperately to avoid his black piercing gaze. “Twenty-one.”

And Ettore closed his eyes, lowered his head and ran a hand down his face, muttering, “Fuck me.”

I willed myself to step back, but my body refused to listen. “I’m sorry.” I wasn’t actually sorry. It was simply force of habit to apologize when things got heated. I was used to shouldering the blame, even for things I had no control over.



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