Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93347 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 467(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
“I want out,” I said again, softer this time, but no less determined.
His eyes locked with mine. “Not possible.”
The game continued, but I was running out of moves.
“Then tell me about my mother,” I said. “About why she left Italy. About why you brought me here. About the reputation of the Badalamentis.”
A muscle ticked near his temple—the only sign my words had any impact.
“I’m not some pawn you can just move around a chessboard.”
“You have no idea what you’re involved in,” Sebastian said.
“Then enlighten me.”
His laugh sounded cold. “It’s not that simple.”
I took a step forward. “Make it simple.”
For a moment—just a moment—I saw something crack in his perfect facade. Something raw.
“Your safety depends on you not knowing,” he said.
“My safety?” I let out a sharp laugh. “I feel anything but safe right now. Why are you doing this?”
Sebastian’s eyes locked onto mine. “You’ll know when the time is right.”
“I want the truth now,” I snapped.
His expression didn’t waver. “You’re not ready for the truth.”
“You don’t get to decide that!”
“I decide everything. This is my world, Sabrina, and you’re in it whether you like it or not.”
I hated him.
Hated his control, his arrogance, his ability to make me feel so powerless.
But I wouldn’t let him win. Not completely.
“I’m not afraid of you."
Sebastian smiled then, faint and devoid of warmth. “You should be.”
My legs trembled as I backed toward the door, my mind racing.
The sound of his voice followed me when I turned and fled.
“You signed an employment contract with the House of Diamanti. Break it, and I’ll ruin you.”
CHAPTER 41
SABRINA
Something was wrong.
I could feel it—a prickle at the base of my spine.
Everything was too still, too perfect.
I ducked into the cafe next to the House of Diamanti headquarters.
It was alive with the buzz of morning chatter, the hiss of steaming espresso machines, and the clink of delicate porcelain cups against saucers.
I punched in the numbers that might take me away from all of this—the picture-perfect Italian setting and the dark underbelly it hid.
My palms itched as I stared at my phone, waiting for her to pick up.
It was time to tell my mother the truth.
Things had gotten out of control.
It was as if I were drowning—kicking and screaming as I splashed against the cold water, but nothing worked. I just kept slipping deeper and deeper into the darkness.
Part of me wanted to get on the next plane to New York.
Another part of me wanted to stay in Rome and get answers.
And then there was the part I didn’t even want to think about.
Sebastian.
He had some unnatural hold over me. I wanted to run away and run into his arms at the same time. It was that damn dark, gravitational pull of his. Mesmerized by the domineering aura around him, I kept staring and staring as he drew me in, closer and closer.
How could a person crave and detest someone all at once?
I wanted nothing more than to escape.
And yet the thought of never seeing him again, never hearing the deep rumble of his voice, never feeling the strength of his hand at my back…it filled me with despair.
But…I knew he was lying to me. Using me.
Last night...
Last night had been the most intense, fucked-up experience of my life. It was as if he had stolen a piece of my soul with every kiss, every touch, every thrust.
I moved my hand to my belly. I could almost still feel him inside of me.
He was everywhere.
Already haunting me, and I hadn’t even left Rome yet.
Even if I tried to leave, would he follow?
Did I want him to?
I was Eve taking a second bite of the poisonous apple.
My phone interrupted my thoughts.
“Sabrina. Finally.”
“I’m fine, Mom.”
“You never answer your phone anymore. You barely text.”
A waiter stopped by my table, placing a cappuccino in front of me.
I thanked him softly, keeping my gaze on the foamy heart etched into the surface. “I’m just busy, that’s all.”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
“I’m your mother, Sabrina. I can hear it in your voice. What’s wrong?”
“Well…there is something I need to tell you.”
“I’ll be right there. I’m talking to my daughter.”
Her tone sounded hurried, distracted. Movement rustled faintly, the sound of someone moving in the background.
“Who’s that?” I asked, a knot of unease forming in my stomach.
“Well, if you’d bothered to answer your phone more often…”
“Mom…” I warned.
She sighed, and then, almost casually, dropped the bombshell. “I’ve…met someone.”
I froze, the noise of the café receding into static. “You’ve what?”
“You heard me. I’ve met someone.”
“You’ve met someone? Who?”
“He’s handsome and cultured, and you’re not going to believe this, but…Italian.”
“You hate Italian men.”
“I know what I said.”
“You didn’t just say it, Mom. You drilled it into my head. My entire life you told me: ‘Never trust a man, but especially never trust an Italian man.’”
“Listen, Sabrina. You’re not a child. You’re old enough to know that sometimes parents make mistakes.”