More on this book
Community
Kindle Notes & Highlights
What hurts more than knowing the contract never meant a thing is knowing Angelo knew it too.
We shared secrets. Dark and twisted ones. I thought… I dig my fingernails into my palms. I thought he was different.
“If you think I’m anything but crazy about you, Rory, then you’re fucking insane.” “Then why didn’t you tell me!”
“I’ll never give him the Preserve, you have my word.” “That’s not what I meant.”
“Stay,” I croak. By the exhale that escapes his lips, I know what he’s going to say.
“I’ll moan his name, just like I moaned yours. But unlike you, he’ll get to put his hands all over my body. Wherever he wants.”
“Aurora.” The pure, unfiltered anger in Angelo’s voice stops me in my tracks.
“So help me God, if you take another step, I will not be responsible for what I’ll do.” “You’re not a made man, anymore. Remember?” I spit. “You’re just dressed like one.”
He let me go.
Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, and I was foolish to think otherwise.
Angelo Visconti isn’t a knight in shining armor, he’s a monster in an Armani suit.
“You’re proving to be trouble, girl.”
“I stopped you from having to fuck him.”
“What should I have done instead, Angelo? Left with you?” “Yes.” “For what? To bare my ass to you? Treat you to a show of me touching myself?”
“An even bigger beating. What does that mean?”
“What does Alberto do to you, Rory?”
“Tell me what he does...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
His gaze travels over my features, grazing over my black eye, and then landing on my busted lip.
“Get back in the car, Rory.” “Angelo—” “Get back in the fucking car.”
“He did this to you,” he murmurs, more to himself than me. “Why didn’t you tell me, Rory?” “Would it have made a difference?” I whisper. “Would it have made you stay?”
“You’re coming home with me.” My heart stutters. “Home?” “To London. You and your father.”
“I can’t.” “To wherever you want then. Anywhere but this fucking coast. New York? You seem like the kind of girl that likes New York.” “We can’t leave the Coast, Angelo.”
Christ. This girl has turned me into a twelve-year-old virgin.
For some reason, I feel the need to make a good impression.
“Environmental dementia. It’s when a patient’s long-term memory only functions in certain familiar environments. For my father, it’s this forest. Walking around the woods or being on the lake, he’s just my dad. But…”
“The moment he leaves the Preserve, or even goes inside our own house, his long-term memory goes.”
“He doesn’t recognize me outside of the forest, Angelo. That’s why it can’t be knocked down, and that’s why we can’t leave. What my father and ...
This highlight has been truncated due to consecutive passage length restrictions.
“You’re not going back there.”
“Not a chance in hell.”
“If you think I’m letting you go back there and be man-handled by that drunken cunt, you must be smoking crack.”
“You’re not thinking straight.” “Yeah, you seem to have that effect on me.”
It should have been him. Sure, it would have been a twisted start to our story, but I know, simply by the way he makes my body sing, it would have had a happy ending.
“Not too late, Magpie,” he murmurs darkly. “I can take you back to Devil’s Dip right now.”
“You’d look good in my bed.”
“Why did you give me this?” “If he so much as touches a hair on your head, you shoot him. You run. And then you call me. Understood?”
“I will get you out of this. I just need to have a plan in place. Do you trust me?”
“I trust you,” I whisper.
“Rory?” His thumb pad carves a trail over my jawline. It stops at the corner of my mouth, but I turn my head to catch it between my lips. He lets out a soft moan, watching me, eyes half-lidded with lust, as I slowly lick it. “Yes?” Danger sparking in his eyes, he pushes his thumb further into my mouth, and with wetness pooling between my thighs, I open my mouth wider to take him all in. “Out of all my sins, you’re my favorite.”
“Angelo. He’s left town.”
“He’s gone, Aurora. Forget about him.” “How do you know?” “He told me so himself.”
“Take me to Angelo’s house in Devil’s Dip.”
“Hell no,” he snaps.
“Our hotline is for sins committed, not sins you’re thinking about committing.”
“I-I don’t understand?”
“You do.”
Gabriel Visconti knows my deepest, darkest sin, and I’m all alone with him in an empty hangar.
“If Angelo doesn’t come back, I expect another call.”
“And this time, I hope your sin won’t be hypothetical.”
“I swear to God, Rory. You better know how to fly, because if you fall, I’m coming with you.”
“I’m going to burn this fucking dress when we get home.” Home. The word alone makes my pulse flutter.
