Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125962 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 630(@200wpm)___ 504(@250wpm)___ 420(@300wpm)
And then he laid his mouth on me.
Cristian
One Month Earlier
His office smelled like cigars and leather. The grandeur of it hit me like this house did every time I walked into it. The money, the sheer fucking wealth of these people intimidated the fuck out of me. But I was surrounded by wealth at the preppy private school I’d gone to the past four years.
Isabella wasn’t one of those rich bitches, she didn’t make me feel crappy about my scholarship or that my aunt took care of me only in the loosest sense of the word and only because the State of New York paid her to do so.
You wouldn’t know Isabella lived in a mansion that had electronic gates and eight bathrooms. Or that her sixteenth birthday present was a car worth one hundred thousand dollars. You wouldn’t know that her father was one of the most ruthless men in the country either. She was sweet, kind, and despite her upbringing, completely and utterly innocent.
Poverty made it impossible to be innocent. I knew all too well it didn’t matter how sweet, kind, beautiful, and fucking amazing Isabella was. She was also a princess to a fucking empire. No way was I going to expect her to slum it in the fucking gutter with me. You didn’t do that to girls like Isabella. Princesses. No, you made them fucking queens.
Which was why I was sitting in her father’s home office while she was shopping for the party. Her eighteenth birthday party. There was still a month before the party, but the Catalanos did shit right. They’d been planning this for half the year. She was eighteen in one month. Four fucking weeks.
In four weeks, I’d make her mine. In every fucking way.
But for now, I had to face the other man who considered her his. I had to ask him to give over his daughter to a street rat who had no prospects, no family and no connections.
Oh, and if he didn’t like what I was asking, he could have me killed, and no one would find my body.
I wasn’t nervous.
I should’ve been very fucking nervous. But I had no future without Isabella. There was no other fucking choice.
So I was sitting across from Vincentius Catalano in the office I’d heard stories about. I stared at the fireplace, there were lions carved into the stone surrounding it, stark white and pristine. I’d heard that people were chopped up in front of that fireplace while they were still alive, and they had to watch as their limbs were burned to ash in front of them.
I was sure that that was some kind of urban legend, but I couldn’t help but think about what my leg would smell like burning in front of me if I fucked this up.
“Cristian,” the Don said, leaning back in his chair.
That was it. A question, a statement, a threat all threaded into my name.
The Don did not need to say anything else. My skin prickled with fear and admiration. I did not know my father, yet I could be certain he was nothing like this man, because there was no one like this man. But the Don had been the only consistent male figure I’d had in my entire life. He’d tested me, rightly so. But he’d also welcomed me. He’d invited me to the family home for dinners. He’d taught me how to fucking drive.
“You want to move in with my daughter?” he asked before I even said anything. I figured he knew something was coming. He was aware of my situation, that my aunt was kicking me out of the house now that I was eighteen and no longer of any value to her. He was the one who got me the job handling the books at the chain of laundromats he owned. Some of the men had scoffed at this, being I was sixteen at the time. But he saw I was good with numbers. He gave me a chance with the understanding if I fucked it up, the price would be high.
I did not fuck it up.
I earned his respect.
Which was why I was still breathing.
I did not lower my eyes though his gaze was penetrating, confronting. “No, I wanna marry her.”
He regarded me in a way that told me he was sizing me up, weighing me, seeing if I measured up. It was the gaze of one of the most ruthless men in New York. If I didn’t hit his scales just right, I could be buried in a shallow grave. That easy. Someone might find me. No one would point the finger at him.
I knew the risk.
It was worth it.
He nodded once.
I exhaled. That nod was in lieu of a bullet through my brain.
“Not gonna give you shit about your age. No matter how old my princess is, it’ll be too fuckin’ young, but you just stood in front of me, knowing full well your fate if I found you lacking,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “That’s old enough to love my daughter. And my daughter being with a man like that, much as I hate it, it makes her old enough too.” He sighed. “Just know, kid, you want a life with her, you’re my family. My family members are all part of the family business. All your dreams of becoming a doctor, a lawyer, whatever the fuck … they’re gone. You don’t get a life outside of her, you don’t take her away.”