Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
“Okay.” She doesn’t hesitate. “I can play along. It’ll be okay.”
I swallow hard. Sweet Aemelia. So sweet since I stripped her resistance away with a shower and my tongue. And she stripped away some of the armor around my heart.
“It has to be real.”
“I’m a good actress.” Her lips curve slightly, but it’s a sad smile. “I can make it real.”
I search her face for any trace of fear or hesitation. Instead, I find only quiet determination.
“What do you have in mind?” I ask.
She shifts, sitting up with her arms wrapped around her knees. “You need to show them something brutal. Something they can’t ignore.”
“Something convincing,” I murmur, running a hand through my hair.
She tilts her head, studying me. “How far are you willing to go?”
I don’t answer right away because I don’t know. When she looks at me, all I want to do is wrap her in my arms and go to sleep. Disappear into a world where I don’t have to face what’s coming next or remember what I’ve done in the past.
Aemelia takes a steadying breath. “You have to hit me.”
“No.” The response is instant and firm. What am I even saying?
She blinks, surprised. “It won’t be real, Antonio. We can fake it.”
I shake my head. “There’s a difference between faking pain and showing it in your eyes. If it doesn’t look real, they won’t believe it.”
She considers this, chewing on the inside of her cheek. “Then we’ll make it look real.”
I exhale sharply. “Tell me.”
She shifts closer, lowering her voice. “Choke me. Not hard, just enough for the red marks to show. Mess up my hair, drag me to the floor like you’re punishing me. If we cut the right angles in the video, it will look worse than it is.”
I don’t realize my hands have curled into fists until she reaches out and uncurls my fingers, pressing her palm against mine. “I trust you.”
Her words settle deep and tighten around my ribs like a constrictor. I don’t deserve that trust. What have I done to earn it? Held her against her will. Threatened her family with death. Threatened her with the same. Cradled her body and tasted her sweetness. Not exactly the foundation for trust building, but I nod anyway.
I lift a hand to her throat, hesitating when she doesn’t flinch. “Tell me to stop the second you feel uncomfortable.”
She nods. “I will.”
I press my fingers against the sides of her neck, enough to leave impressions without cutting off air. Her breath hitches, but she holds my gaze.
“Struggle,” I murmur. “Make it look real.”
She does. Her fingers wrap around my wrist, tugging weakly. Her lips part as if gasping for breath. She kicks once against the mattress.
I let go immediately, pulling my hands back like I’ve been burned. She blinks up at me, rubbing at the phantom sensation.
“Good?” I ask, my voice rough.
She nods. “Again. Mess up my hair.”
I exhale through my nose, dragging a hand through her soft curls until they’re tangled and wild. She runs her hands over her own face, smearing away the traces of sleep.
“Now, the final touch,” she says. “Make me cry.”
I hesitate. “Aemelia…”
She grips my hand again. “Say something cruel. Something that would break me.”
I clench my jaw. “I don’t—”
“You have to.”
I close my eyes for a moment, then open them. My voice is quiet when I say, “You mean nothing to him. You mean nothing to anyone. You’re alone in this world.”
Her breath shudders. The pain in her eyes is so real before her tears spill over, slipping down her cheeks. What I said shouldn’t have cut so deep. She has a mother, aunt, and brother who love her, doesn’t she? Friends. Other family members. As do I. But my own connections don’t fill the space inside me. What I said is the thing that would gut me the most.
I want to take it back. I want to wipe away the proof of her pain. But she tilts her chin up, ready.
“You should start recording.”
“I’ll tell my brothers.”
Downstairs, Alexis is finished from his shower, rubbing a towel over his hair and laughing at the TV with Luca. I grab the remote and flick off the TV. Luca turns quickly, annoyed, but I put up my hand. “We have a plan.”
“What plan?”
“Aemelia is going to fake her suffering for the next video.”
“It has to be convincing, Antonio. She’s no Oscar-winning actress.” Luca stands, folding his arms across his chest. He’s still wearing his suit pants and a white dress shirt, always formal despite our surroundings.
“She’s willing to do whatever it takes,” I say. “We’ll stage it carefully. Bruising, distress, something that looks worse than it is.”
Alexis tilts his head. “But you’re not planning to actually hurt her?”
“No.” My voice is firm. “But it has to be real enough to make Carlo believe it.”