Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77359 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
I shivered as I slowed in front of the huge door that Massimo had disappeared into. It felt like a trap. As if once I stepped in it, it would never let me out. But I stepped through. I was already trapped, right? Trapped in this engagement. Whether I was in my fiancé’s house or not, it didn’t matter. I belonged to him now, and there was no getting around that.
As if he knew my thoughts, Massimo appeared at my side. “This way,” he said curtly, and he strode to a wide staircase that led up to a gloomy second floor. I followed, my hand on a smooth wooden railing as I trailed behind him. He led me down a dark hallway, and I was beginning to wonder if this place even had electricity. It did—I’d seen lamps on downstairs—but the overall effect was so dark that it was easy to imagine I’d stepped into the past and would be required to carry a candle around with me from room to room.
At the end of the hallway, Massimo opened a door and snapped on a light. Then he stepped inside, waiting impatiently for me to enter. The room looked as intimidating as the man himself. Part of me wanted to reason with him, to tell him that snarling and silence was no way to treat your future bride. But mostly, I was scared of him. He was big, strong, angry, and foreboding. I’d met many men like that—both my father’s associates and his employees. And, well, my father himself, though he wasn’t always scary. But fierce, dangerous men were a given in my world.
When I’d heard about the engagement, I hadn’t been able to stop the flutters of hope that had filled me. Surely life would be better once I was out of my parents’ house? Once I was engaged and had a partner in life? At times, I knew that was a foolish hope, but still… Massimo and his brothers were younger than my parents. They lived in a different city. So I couldn’t help but hope that things might be different here?
But it didn’t appear that way.
Slipping past Massimo, I looked around the room I’d be staying in. It was… well, I knew what it wasn’t. It wasn’t cozy. Or welcoming. Still, the decor and furniture were obviously of good quality, even if everything was probably older than me.
The bed was massive, with four posters. The covers and sheets were dark, and there weren’t any decorative pillows. The furniture around the edges of the room was wooden and heavy. The walls were dark too, a kind of faded crimson. Everything about this room proclaimed that a man had lived here. One of the brothers, perhaps? Or was this Massimo’s old room?
Either way, it was as foreboding as the rest of the house. Maybe, after I’d been here a while, I could ask about redecorating my room in a more feminine style.
Massimo shut the door behind us, stepping around the spot where I stood frozen to the floor. “Are you capable of walking more than ten steps at a time without stopping?”
I took a few hurried steps forward. “Sorry. It’s just… everything’s new to me.”
“A woman who’s going to be my wife should be able to handle herself in all social situations.” He leaned against a dresser, still wearing the fitted suit that showcased his long legs so well.
All situations. That was rich. Did he think I’d had a full and varied social life in New York?
He shook his head as if to clear his mind of the thought. I got the sense he wasn’t letting me off the hook, exactly. No, it felt more like I just wasn’t important enough for him to get into it.
Which hurt. It wasn’t like I wanted him to scold me more, but it also didn’t feel good that he didn’t seem to care much one way or another. Then again, we didn’t know each other very well yet.
Massimo pointed to a door beyond a massive dresser. “The bathroom’s in there.”
“Thanks.”
I actually did kind of need it, but I didn’t want to go in there while he was still hanging around out here.
There was a knock at the door and when Massimo opened it, a man I’d seen downstairs brought in a few of my suitcases.
The thought of unpacking my things brought a little comfort. The room was unfamiliar, and quite frankly on the unfriendly side, but soon I’d be in my own nightgown. And I’d packed a soft, well-worn blanket my grandmother had knitted for me when I was a little girl. At least with it wrapped around me, the huge bed might not feel so unfamiliar.
But Massimo was still here, and I didn’t want to unpack in front of him. Surely, he had other things to do? He’d spoken with his brothers and his men throughout the plane ride and the car trip. But still, he just leaned against the dresser, his long legs folded at the ankle—and that perpetual scowl on his face.