𝙁𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙮 𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙭𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙤𝙛 𝙖 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚. For Ariella Lambert, they don’t exist, and her trauma-induced selective mutism meant letting go of the future she once dreamed of. Now deeply embedded within the Corsetti mafia family by her sister’s union, she seeks a fraction of control and volunteers herself for an arranged marriage with the head of another crime family.
Erico Rossi, underboss of the New York Famiglia, was enthralled by Ariella from their first meeting. 𝗔𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝗼𝗻𝗲 𝗲𝗻𝗴𝗮𝗴𝗲𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻, 𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝗴𝗿𝗲𝗲𝘀 𝘁𝗼 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗼𝗳𝗳𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗼 𝗔𝗿𝗶𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗮, 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘂𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗮 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝗺𝗮𝗿𝗿𝗶𝗮𝗴𝗲. Ariella's expressive silence sparks his interest in her, and soon, Erico wants to know his new wife in every way possible. 𝙎𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙩𝙞𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙡𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙘𝙖𝙣 𝙗𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙪𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙨𝙚.
♦ ♦ ♦
♦ ♦ ♦
USA Today Bestselling author M.L. Philpitt writes both dark romance and paranormal romance. When she’s not writing made-up realities, she’s reading them. She lives in Canada with her four pets and survives life with coffee and an obsession with fictional characters, especially the morally grey kind. By day, she masks herself as a therapist, and is still waiting for her Hogwarts letter so she can be sorted into her Ravenclaw house.
𝙏𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙧𝙚 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙚𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙨 𝙩𝙤 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙨𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮: 𝙝𝙞𝙨, 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙩𝙝. Rozelyn De Falco has been branded an enemy and captured by the Corsetti family, intent to torture her father’s location from her. But Rozelyn has her own plans, and being imprisoned is merely one she already has in place.
Flynn Rhodes, enforcer of the Corsetti family, gains more than just a captive in Rozelyn. He finds his past. A girl he cared for when they both had different lives. 𝘽𝙪𝙩 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙩 𝙬𝙖𝙨 𝙖 𝙡𝙞𝙚, and Flynn only cares about vengeance and the oaths he’s taken. 𝙄𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙙, 𝙛𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙙𝙤𝙢 𝙞𝙨 𝙨𝙞𝙢𝙥𝙡𝙮 𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙥𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙞𝙣𝙚 𝙗𝙚𝙩𝙬𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙚 𝙞𝙨 𝙛𝙖𝙞𝙣𝙩.
♦ ♦ ♦
♦ ♦ ♦
Days pass but I don’t know how
many. I try to count the visits as I’m provided food and allowed out for the
bathroom, but they seem to happen at different times, making tracking
difficult.
Either way, it’s not Flynn who
comes down anymore. Instead, two other soldiers alternate, and they barely glance
at me, and they don’t speak to me other than to command me up the stairs and
position a gun at my back as they walk me to a bathroom in the main hall, which
makes me wonder why Flynn’s always brought me to his from the very first
instance.
I’ve asked about Flynn’s
whereabouts, but they pretend not to hear me. This is a daily activity now.
Other than during their visits, the
basement’s lights are kept off, but thankfully, I never return to that dark
place I went to the last time I was alone for an extended length of time.
In the silence, my mind travels a
lot. It relives everything Dad ever did to me. His malicious means of training
me for this. His cruel ways of raising me to be his soldier rather than his
daughter.
“Fight him.” Dad flicks
his fingers to one of the soldiers he’s brought to the training room. A
mountain-sized man with biceps as wide as my head, height that towers two feet
above me, and a menacing snarl that says he’d eat me for breakfast if given the
chance.
“You’re kidding me?” I
look from Dad to the solider and back. At twenty-four, this isn’t the first
soldier he’s had me train against, but no one like this. “I’ll lose. More so, he’ll
break me.”
“Attack,” Dad commands. “Before
he does.”
I didn’t move for almost a week
afterwards. His soldier took me down in less than a minute, bruising my back.
He never taught me enough to fight
back against him. Or, somehow I was hardwired unable to do so. Maybe because I
was already in the monster’s web, and his training never exactly got me into
the fighting shape it should have.
The single time I tried to block
his incoming hit, I paid for the act of defiance.
The basement door
opens and shuts again, taking me from the latest trip through my hellish
memories. It feels
like it’s only been an hour since they brought me to the bathroom so I can’t
help but be dismayed that I’ve clearly lost an entire night. Time is slipping
faster and faster away. Not sure if that’s positive or not…
Through the darkness, I’m able to
make out the shape of who comes down and it’s not either of the men. It’s also
not someone new. I know his figure as well as I know my own.
He doesn’t approach, so I don’t
move from the sleeping bag I’ve dragged to the centre of the room. Being
unchained means having access to these luxuries he once teased me with.
I wait for him to speak, counting
sixty seconds, and wonder if he’s also waiting for me to begin. Uncomfortable
silence, is it?
Eventually, he sits right at the
base of the stairs, his back against the far wall so he’s facing me. His legs
stretch out in front of him, crossing at the ankles. That’s all I’m able to
make out though, and I wish he’d turn on the light so I can see his face. A
long sigh follows, signaling the break in silence.
USA Today Bestselling author M.L. Philpitt writes both dark romance and paranormal romance. When she’s not writing made-up realities, she’s reading them. She lives in Canada with her four pets and survives life with coffee and an obsession with fictional characters, especially the morally grey kind. By day, she masks herself as a therapist, and is still waiting for her Hogwarts letter so she can be sorted into her Ravenclaw house.
.jpg)
