Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91164 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
“I like you on your knees,” Malek says between puffs as he relights the cigar. “It’s humbling, isn’t it?” he asks me. “You know what is even more humbling?” He shifts his gaze from me to the soldier. “Strip her.”
“No! Stop! Stop!” I fight as Rami comes to stand before me. I guess he was in the room the whole time, but I didn’t see him. He grins, grips the dress with two meaty hands and rips it apart like it’s nothing. Like it’s made of paper.
If my father were here—fuck! He’s not here. And what would he do if he were? What? Not let any of these people hurt me? That’s a joke. Hell, he’d likely do the hurting himself.
The soldier at my back grips my arms and pulls them to my sides. Rami finishes by shoving my underwear down and it’s somehow more humiliating to be standing with my panties around my ankles than it would be if I weren’t wearing any at all, but I don’t move and I don’t look at Rami as he looks me over, making a lewd gesture with his tongue before getting out of the way so Malek can see me like this.
My eyes fill with tears, but I raise my chin and force myself to look at Malek. To meet his eyes after he’s taken his fill of me.
“A little skinny for my liking,” he says. “What do you two think? She your type? Go on. Have a good look, Rami.” Malek gestures at me like I’m fucking dessert as he brings another match to his cigar.
Rami looks me over. “Not meaty enough, like you said, but I’m not picky.”
“No, I don’t imagine your type are,” Malek says with a curl of his lip that makes Rami’s eyes narrow hatefully.
Malek walks over to me, puffing on that cigar. When he’s standing a few inches from me, he makes a point of looking me over again.
“Did you fuck him?” he asks.
I don’t respond. I won’t.
“Did you fuck Cassian Trevino?”
I don’t know how to answer. I don’t want to answer.
He shakes his head. “What did I expect?” he asks more to himself than to me as he casually presses the cigar into my breast.
I grit my teeth against the pain, but I can’t help a whimper. I struggle, but can’t pull away, not with the soldier holding me in place.
“What the hell do you want from me?” I manage to ask when he walks away. “Just fucking kill me and get it over with!”
“Oh, Allegra, is that what you’ve been thinking?” he asks, all faux offended. “You must have been terrified.”
I don’t know why I feel a little bit of relief. I know it’s cowardice. And besides, if he doesn’t want me dead, surely whatever he has planned will be worse.
“Tell me what the fuck you want then.”
“Well, for starters, I want the same thing I wanted a few hours ago. Tell me. Tell me you knew your father was the butcher who ordered your kidnapping. Your mother’s kidnapping. Your mother’s brutal mutilation. Yours.”
“How are you different, Malek, tell me that?”
“Oh, I’m different. You see, Alaric Moretti stole. I don’t steal. I take what I’m due, but I don’t steal.”
“Is that what this is? Why you killed Michael? Why you took me? Are we your due? Are you going to kill me, too?”
He smiles, all teeth now, and gives a shake of his head, chuckling as if something I said is funny. “Oh, Allegra. I already told you that’s not the case. You’re far too valuable to be killed.”
“Then what do you want with me?”
He takes a deep breath in, then exhales. His gaze moves over me, but not in a leering way. He didn’t have me stripped for his pleasure. He did it to humiliate me.
“I want the family.”
“What?”
“Moretti family territory. I want it.”
I register his meaning. And I think I know why I’m alive, but I can’t unpack that just yet and when I hear myself snort, it’s not conscious. It’s ridiculous that he’d want this. That he’d think I’d go along with it.
“You want to take over the Moretti mafia? You want to rule?”
He doesn’t take kindly to my reaction. He narrows his eyes. “Is that so unbelievable? I’ve been doing it since your father’s death. Well, truly, since before.”
“Because you killed him.”
He grins.
“So, I’m alive because you think I will help you?”
“Oh, I don’t expect you’ll help me. I only need one thing.” He takes my left arm by the wrist and tugs me toward himself. The soldier is still holding onto my right. He’s smart not to take any chances.
Malek reaches into his pocket and takes something out. He holds it in his fist, makes a show of opening his hand and grins wide. I realize why the moment I see what he has. It’s a ring, and not just any ring. A small band of diamonds, once brilliant, now dirty. Stained with old blood.