Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
After some chatter over the radio, the gate buzzes open, and the head guard points at me.
“Only you.”
I glance at Rafe and Romeo and nod. We already accounted for this. They’ll wait out here at the guard stand, but I have a direct line of communication with them through the camera embedded into my lapel pin. If anything goes sideways, they’ll know.
I follow the guard into the Stavros estate and directly to the den. Unsurprisingly, Ares sits behind his desk like a tyrant who thinks he rules the whole goddamned planet.
“Well, isn’t this a surprise?” He glances up at me. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your royal company, King Angelo?”
I take a seat across from him without being asked. “I’m here to renegotiate the treaty.”
He opens the decanter of whiskey on his desk and pours himself a glass, eyeing me over the rim as he takes a drink. “Let me guess. This is about your wife’s little problem with her womb.”
“Speak about her again, and I’ll gut you like a fish right here. I don’t give a fuck how many guards you have waiting outside.”
“Relax.” He smirks. “Everyone knows of your reputation, Il Diavolo. I have no desire to join the list of poor souls who so much as looked at your woman the wrong way.”
“Good. Then we can get back to business.”
“Yes, well.” Ares shrugs. “I fail to see how this is my problem.”
“You’re bound to the same terms,” I remind him. “Surely, you can see how fucking pointless they are.”
“Perhaps,” he muses. “But I quite like the idea of a smaller version of me running around the island. Who knows, maybe one day I’ll have a bunch of the little gremlins. I’m thinking about a baker’s dozen. An army in my own likeness—”
“Cut the bullshit, and name your price.”
“As you already know, I have more money than I’ll ever need. A check does little to motivate me these days.”
He’s baiting me to see how desperate I am and what I’m willing to offer. I let him draw it out, because in my gut, I already know where he’s going with this. When he swirls the whiskey in his glass and a smile curves across his face, he proves me right.
“I suppose…there is one thing you could offer me.”
“That’s off the table.”
He arches a brow at me. “You haven’t even heard what it is I want. This isn’t much of a negotiation—”
“Mariella isn’t for sale.”
“I wasn’t looking to make a purchase,” he answers dryly.
“Then what?”
He drains the whiskey in his glass and smiles.
“How about…one favor.”
54
ABELLA
After Angelo leaves, I close my eyes for a while, but fail to sleep. So instead, I wander through the house and into Mariella’s wing. I need to see her and Valentina and let them both know I’m alright, and then I need to call Gabi and the rest of my friends.
When I knock on Val’s door and she opens it, I’m greeted with a yelp before she pulls me in for a hug.
“You’re here,” she cries out. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I rasp.
After a minute, she pulls back to look at me. “Are you okay?”
“I am.” I smile softly.
“What’s going on?” she asks. “Did Angelo find you?”
“Yes, but it’s okay. I’ll fill you in on everything later.”
“Does this mean you’re staying?” Her features crease with reluctant hope.
Before I can answer, Mariella appears in the hallway. “Oh, thank God. I’ve been trying to track you down.”
“You have?” I swallow past the lump in my throat as I recall the tests she ran before I left.
“Yes, I need to talk to you alone,” she says. “Do you mind, Val?”
“It’s okay,” I tell her. “I don’t want the results.”
Mariella stares at me, her face unreadable. “I think you’ll change your mind when you hear what I have to say.”
I search her eyes, reluctantly curious, but then I remember I’m determined to protect myself from further pain.
“It doesn’t matter anymore.”
“It does,” Mariella insists.
I glance at Val, and she offers me an encouraging smile. “Go. I’ll be right here when you’re done.”
After a moment, I concede and follow Mariella down the hall and into her suite. She shuts the door behind us, then unlocks a drawer in her desk and pulls out a folder.
“You might want to have a seat for this,” she says.
“Mariella—” I shake my head, feeling like I want to vomit. “I don’t think I can do this.”
“Abella, you’re pregnant.”
My legs nearly buckle, and now I understand why she told me to sit. She helps me into a chair, and this time, I listen to what she has to say.
“It was confirmed with the blood test and ultrasound.” She removes the results from the folder and shows them to me. “Have a look.”
I try, but my eyes are too blurry. “But it won’t be viable, right? That’s what they told me. They said even if I did get pregnant, I wouldn’t be able to carry to term.”