Sweet Retribution (DARK ITALIAN ROMANCE #2) by Emery Quinn EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Authors: Emery Quinn
- Language: English
- Genre: contemporary romance
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
I wake alone and confused. My wrists burn where they’re bound. My ankles
as well. My legs are tied with a rough, thick rope to the corners of the bed.
It’s too dark to see my surroundings, but the room smells.
Or it’s me. I can smell urine and feces. I feel wetness between my legs
and under my butt. I’m naked, bruised, and sore.
The last thing I remember is shopping in the outdoor market with Maria.
We were selecting vegetables for a salad I knew Stone wouldn’t eat, and
cheese for the macaroni and cheese dish I was going to make for him
tonight.
Or last night. Or the night before. I don’t know how long I’ve been
gone. I try to lift my arms, but I’m too weak. Too weak to open my eyes and
survey my surroundings. I don’t want to know where I am.
“I didn’t think you’d ever wake.”
Antonio. My skin crawls and I shrink into the thin, lumpy mattress. My
father had told Antonio Rossi he could marry me when I turned eighteen. It
didn’t matter that he’s fifteen years older than me, and a rapist.
As business partners, marrying me would make the two of them–
Antonio Rossi and Lorenzo Parisi–the most powerful in their underground
sex-trafficking world.
I’d escaped their control a month before my birthday, my mother and I
leaving under the ruse of looking at universities in England and France.
We’d fled with the help of Sonny, my bodyguard, who’d been charged to
keep tabs on me during my teenage years.
I supported my mother, living with brain damage and dementia caused
by my father, waitressing in little diners around the United States for eight
years.
Until Stone Parlatore kidnapped me, brought me to Italy, and forced me
to be his bride. He, however, hadn’t tortured me.
“Don’t pretend you’re not awake, Callista.” Antonio kicks the side of
the bed and I flinch, the ropes ripping at my skin.
I don’t correct him, telling him I changed my name to Gia the moment I
escaped the confines of Lorenzo Parisi’s prison will only anger him more.
I slowly open my eyes, blinking from the brightness of the single bulb
in the ceiling above me.
“You’re a filthy little puttana.”
Then why did you take me? I don’t look at him. I don’t speak to him.
I’m afraid of what he wants. What he’ll do to me.
“You’ve bled all over the bed and you smell like a mound of shit. Finish
your cycle so I can plant my seed in you. I’d say keep your legs closed until
then,” he laughs bitterly, smacking my right foot, “but it’s too late for that.”
The rope burns around my ankles. Warm liquid trickles down my thigh.
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