Page 35 of Wretched Choices

I grit my teeth. “No. I don’t forgive those who betray me. And you did, you little shit.”

“It wasn’t that difficult. I asked around the guys my age on the streets, the ones looking for second chances. They told me you take care of kids on the streets, so it was easy to fake a story that would win you over.”

My fist connects with his face. “Who sent you?”

He grins. “I wish I could tell you, but I can’t. So, I guess you’ll have to kill me.”

I grab his chin, squeezing it hard. “Tell me, who are you working for?”

There is no ounce of reaction on his face. The kid is a psychopath. There is no use in talking to him.

“I will not kill you. I have better things to do tonight. Dante here will carve every inch of your skin into tiny cuts that hurt sobad. You will bleed, thinking your end is coming, then you will be brought back to life, only to be tortured once again until you beg to be dead. You will die in agony,” I snarl at him and let him go.

His face remains expressionless as he swallows, the only reaction he’s had tonight.

Good.

I leave the room, closing the door behind me, leaving Dante to work his magic.

Fucking kid. I should have killed him the day I found him.

fourteen

Isabella

Last night, I was an emotional mess. I haven’t had a panic attack in years. And it happened in front of Salvatore. I didn’t think my fears would come to the surface, but they did, from the second I saw my father on that screen.

When he spoke, I couldn’t hear what he said. I only heard that gunshot. The pulling of the trigger, my cries, and the gunshot are buried deep in my memories.

This time, I didn’t get pulled into the darkness. Not because I wasn’t afraid anymore. It was because of his touch.

Because of Salvatore’s firm grip on my hands, his soothing voice, and the promise he made.

Since the day I became Isabel Roberts, I have never relied on a man for protection. I didn’t want it. I always made sure to be aware of my surroundings and the people around me. To know them, I learned how to read them.

I knew my father would never find me here. No one knew me. People barely knew who I was back home.

The Anti-Mafia Organization provided me with what I needed to come here, and that’s how Isabel Roberts was born. They advised me to change my first name too, but I couldn’t. It was the only thing that was left of my mother. She gave me my name.

She called me Bella too. No one called me that for years until Salvatore did. His rough, low, masculine voice calling me Bella calms me. It pulls me back to safety, my heart skipping a beat. Being in his arms felt good, almost right, leaving me with an overthinking brain and my emotions all over the place.

Now, he is nowhere to be found.

After I strangely slept well, I woke up for the first time in maybe eight years and didn’t know what my schedule was.

We didn’t discuss our accommodations for after the marriage, nor how this marriage is going to work. But one thing I’m sure of is thatI’mgoing to work.

Just as I’m about to leave the suite, the doors open and the man himself enters, leaving me with my mouth open and eyes wide.

I look him up and down, from his sneakers up his legs to the shorts he is wearing over his muscular thighs, up to his hips, where I can clearly see the outline of his groin. The V at his abs, then up to his muscular chest that has almost no hair. His broad, tattooed chest and arms are a work of art. When my eyes find his smirking face and the glint in his blue eyes, I realize I’m in big trouble.

“Close that mouth, Bella. It doesn’t suit you,” he says with humor in his voice.

I bite my lip. “I wasn’t expecting that,” I say, trying to hide my reaction to him with sarcasm.

He tilts his head to the side and raises one eyebrow. “What did you expect?”

Certainly not what is in front of me. How will I erase this image out of my mind now? “I don’t know. Didn’t think about it.”Lies.

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