Total pages in book: 164
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157003 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 785(@200wpm)___ 628(@250wpm)___ 523(@300wpm)
Aris snorts but doesn’t argue with his mother.
I quickly shrink back after she’s inspected the diamond and glance over at Kostas. His expression is hard and unreadable. His eyes, though, are blazing with fury.
Oh God.
My hand trembles, and he takes it again. This time, I don’t pull it away. I let his thumb sweep over the back of my hand and truly pretend he’s trying to comfort me.
But silly me…
The perpetrator doesn’t comfort the victim.
Hot tears well in my eyes, but I quickly blink them away. My mother didn’t raise a victim. She raised me to be strong and feisty and assertive.
I miss my mom.
I miss home.
“I was thinking we could go in search of the venue tomorrow,” Nora says, pulling me from my near meltdown. “I’ve made a list of the best locations. Kostas mentioned hiring a wedding planner, but I thought it would be fun for us to do it ourselves. There are some gorgeous churches in the area. What do you think?”
I always envisioned a beautiful church wedding where my soul mate and I would exchange heartfelt vows, and afterward attend the reception filled with our closest family and friends. My husband and I would spend the evening in each other’s arms until it was time to say our goodbyes and leave for our honeymoon. Now, all of my dreams have been shattered.
I’m living in a nightmare.
It doesn’t matter if it’s the most beautiful wedding ever put on, it’ll be a hateful shame. A vengeful way to get back at my father. A lifelong sentence for a crime I didn’t commit.
“Talia,” Kostas rumbles from beside me, a low warning in his tone.
I don’t know why her sons and husband haven’t told her that this wedding isn’t a romantic union of two people in love, but of a debt being paid, but I’m not going to be the one to tell her. I can guarantee, based on Kostas’s behavior, that the devilish momma’s boy at my side would not like that at all. So, even though I have no desire to plan any aspect of this sham of a wedding, I nod politely.
“Uh, sure,” I stammer out. “That sounds like fun.”
“Perfect!” She beams. “I’ll be by at ten to pick you up.”
She seems nice. Really nice. I wonder if she’s nice enough to betray her own family and help me escape this hellish island.
“Do you live here as well?” I ask.
“No, Ezio and I live about twenty minutes just outside of town, in the home Kostas and Aris grew up in. You will have to bring her to visit soon,” she says to Kostas.
“Of course, Mamá,” he assures her in a gentle voice that’s as fake as my smile.
We wrap up dessert and I’m spared from any more probing questions. For the most part, this family leaves me out of their seemingly common dinner conversation. All too soon, I’m broken from the most normal situation I’ve been in since I got here, to leave.
Off to be alone with my fiancé.
Wonderful.
Cue panic attack.
After we say our goodbyes, Aris heads toward the bar. Kostas places a palm on my lower back, guiding me down the hallway and out of the hotel. The night is warm with a slight breeze. I wish it’d strengthen and carry me far away from here. Unfortunately, though, my luck doesn’t hold out, because before I know it, we’re standing in front of Kostas’s impressive villa.
The Devil’s den.
And I live here now.
Terror claws its way up my throat. We’ll be alone. Together. Sharing a bed. Images of what might happen in that bed claw at my mind, causing a hemorrhaging of fear to drown my every thought. One gentle push once the door is open and I’m thrust right into my living nightmare.
The door closes with a click behind us. He’s quiet. Too quiet. The hairs on my arms stand on end as I anticipate his next move.
“Relax,” he rumbles. “I’m not going to eat you. Yet.”
Anger surges up inside of me and fuels me out of my state of terror. I shoot him a scathing glare that earns me a smirk instead. This, I can do. Sparring with an asshole. I did it all the time with my father. As long as he doesn’t pull out his knives or tie me to a chair, I think I can handle this.
Rather than attack me like I conjured up in my mind, Kostas heads straight for the bedroom. I follow behind, watching as he removes his jacket and unbuttons his shirt, hanging both over the back of the chair. I’m frozen in place as he toes off his shoes and slides his dress pants down each muscular thigh, leaving him in only his briefs.
I let my guard down too soon.
Is this where we role play, our own little parts in this fucked-up play?