Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23907 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 120(@200wpm)___ 96(@250wpm)___ 80(@300wpm)
Third was her precious Ezio, who, until now, was a mystery to many, and the same could be said with his wife, Cattleya, who once worked as Potenziana's most dutiful secretary.
Her only granddaughter, Gazelle, was the fourth to be presented, her quiet loveliness a perfect mask for her equally quiet resilience; she was the princess who had tamed the Beast of New York by not wanting to tame him at all.
And finally, it was her eldest grandchild's turn, and even Potenziana found it impossible to keep her voice from breaking as she introduced the two people whose wedding they were celebrating today.
"Ladies and gentlemen, without further ado, I present to you Giancarlo and Sarica..."
The newly married couple stepped out into view on another balcony, and the reaction from their audience was thunderous.
Sarica did her best to smile and wave like La Strega had told her to do even as feelings of every kind threatened her composure. For so many years of her life, she had felt as if there was no place she could be safe, no person she could belong to.
But now, more than ever, she understood how all the things she had to suffer were part of His perfect plan, and even though there were times her hope and trust in Him had faltered—-
Thank You, God.
Not once did He leave her side.
He was always there for her and Giancarlo.
And always would be.
The crowd erupted into cheers as Giancarlo drew his wife close for a kiss. They waved one last time before retreating from view, and as soon as the balcony doors slid closed, Giancarlo wasted no time in reaching for the girl he had loved from the moment he laid his eyes on her.
They didn't even make it to the bed and didn't even manage to undress, with Giancarlo simply bending his wife over the console as he plunged into her from behind.
Sarica's head fell back at the first thrust. He was so, so deep inside of her, and the way he moved oh so slowly was driving her out of his mind.
"P-Please..."
She wanted him to move faster and harder.
She wanted him to...close the blinds!
Because was that an actual drone outside the balcony windows?
Giancarlo froze at his wife's sudden cry. "What's wrong?"
"Drone," Sarica gasped. "Outside! We forgot to—-"
Her cry of protest was short-lived, her embarrassment whooly forgotten as he began moving again, his hands tightening on her hips. Sarica wanted to argue, to push him away and close the blinds, but the pleasure coursing through her was too intense, too overwhelming to resist.
She could only cling to the edges of the console as her husband moved in a punishingly slow rhythm while his hands dipped inside her wedding dress to start playing with her nipples.
“Giancarlo,” she pleaded, her voice breaking. "P-Please."
"Beg for it."
A dark and possessive whisper, and the sound had Sarica writhing under him in uncontrollable need.
"P-Please..."
Her husband obliged with a chuckle, and even though his arrogance made her want to kick him—-
Aaaah.
Giancarlo was finally moving as she wanted.
Faster. Harder. Deeper.
And so, so roughly that she was soon convulsing with a cry of surrender, and Giancarlo was right behind her, his hands gripping Sarica's hips as he filled her with his seed.
When it was over, they collapsed onto the bed, their bodies still entwined, and Sarica doing her best to catch her breath. She shifted a little, and her husband rolled to his back while Sarica landed on top of him.
She touched his face, which bore only the faintest scars of the beating he had taken. So much had happened. So much had changed. And speaking of such changes...
Sarica glanced up curiously at her husband. "Do you really not mind...about the drone?" Because the Giancarlo she knew was extremely conservative.
"This is an exception," Giancarlo murmured. "I want our wedding to make it clear to everyone that you are mine."
Sarica rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows I've been yours since I was fifteen—-"
“Even Dauphin Tueur?”
Oh.
Right.
Sarica shook her head. "The thing is..." She was about to explain to Giancarlo how Dauphin was her new Mr. Miyagi when something clicked in her mind, and she quickly reached for the covers to wrap around her naked body before pushing herself up.
"How about we make a deal?"
Giancarlo raised a brow. "About Dauphin Teuer?"
"I'll tell you who he is...if you tell me who has a photo of you bare-chested.”
Giancarlo’s mind raced back to that mortifying bet he’d lost in his teenage years. The magazine spread that still haunted his nightmares: him in a blond wig, posing as a Viking invader, complete with historically inaccurate helmet and flexed muscles that had made him look more like a romance novel cover model than a Norse warrior.
He had bought the publishing company the moment he could access his inheritance. Had personally overseen the burning of every copy he could find, along with the original negatives and drafts.