Page 128 of The Colour of Revenge
The name makes my skin crawl. It is not my name. It is the name he gave me.
Lucian’s lips curl into a smooth smile, and he steps forward slightly, extending a hand toward me. “Naomi,” he greets, his voice low and rich with an Italian accent that would be charming if it didn’t drip with menace. His eyes glint in the sunlight spilling in through the stain-glassed windows by the door.
I stand rooted to the spot, my arms crossed tightly over my chest. I don’t take his hand. I don’t move. My defiance is small, but it’s mine.
“Lucian is the founder of a highly successful cybersecurity firm,” my father continues, the false pride in his voice grating on my nerves. “His company is at the forefront of the industry.”
I glare at him, my defiance flaring hotter. “Why should I care?” The words leave my mouth sharper than intended, but I don’t regret them.
Not at first.
The room turns deadly quiet. My father’s reaction is immediate. His face twists with fury, and he closes the distance between us in an instant, his hand raised to strike.
“Do not take that tone with me,” he snarls, his voice low and venomous.
I brace myself for the blow, but it doesn’t come.
Lucian steps forward, his hand clamping down firmly on my father’s shoulder. “Dominic,” he says, his voice calm but commanding. “Do not strike my future wife.”
The words hit me like a blow. My breath catches, and I stare at Lucian, my heart lurching.Wife?
My father freezes, his hand lowering immediately as he shifts into a sickening display of contrition. “Apologies, Lucian,” he says, his tone suddenly smooth, the anger vanishing from his face as though it was never there. “I lost my temper. It won’t happen again.”
Lucian doesn’t respond right away. His gaze locks onto mine, assessing, calculating, and something about the intensity in his eyes makes me want to shrink away. But I hold my ground, refusing to let him see my fear.
“Good,” Lucian finally says, his lips curling into a faint smile. He turns back to my father. “I expect her to be treated with care.” Lucian winks at me. “She’s mine now.”
Three words from Lucian change everything.
33
Underestimating The Girl They Thought They Could Break
Hypothetical Question: If your house was haunted, would you rather have a creepy ghost that does nothing but make eye contact, or one that moves your stuff just to confuse you?
Carina
Aweeklater,theycome for me.
I don't go quietly.
I bite and claw, kick and scream until my voice is raw. My nails rake across flesh, drawing blood, and for a brief, glorious second, I hope I'll be beaten for it.
Beaten, not taken.
But they're trained for this. They expect the fight.
Four guards drag me through the house, my bare feet skidding against the polished floors. My silk robe hangs off my shoulders, torn in places from my struggle.
Martha, the housekeeper, watches it all.
She doesn't move. She doesn't speak.
Her face is as cold and blank as it's always been.
I used to wonder if she pitied me. If she ever felt even a flicker of remorse for standing by while my father starved me, struck me, broke me.
Now, I know the truth.
