Total pages in book: 80
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78076 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
“That’ll just piss off the Skull King.”
“Sure. But without business, he’ll start to hurt. His men will start to turn on him.”
“I find that unlikely, because we wouldn’t turn on you.”
The corner of my mouth rose in a smile. “Don’t be naïve. We’re all wolves here.”
Bleu stared.
“I’ll make a deal with him. I’ll sell him the product he needs, and in return, I get a cut of his business.”
Bleu worked it all out in his head. “Not only will you take the territory, but you’ll take his distribution network.”
“Exactly.”
“What if he doesn’t cooperate?”
“Then I’ll kill his daughter. He’ll have no other choice.”
Bleu turned quiet for a while. “What if she’s not worth it to him? Have you discovered the strain in their relationship?”
I’d gleaned nothing from that woman. Not even a hunch. “No.” But she had a backbone of steel and a smile of sunshine. No way any man wouldn’t do anything for her—especially her father. “Let’s figure out who’s in charge of manufacturing. Then we’ll make our move.”
He nodded before he turned away. “Got it.”
5
LAURA
I had just finished making dinner and carried it to the small circular dining table near the window. I poured myself a glass of wine and set up my laptop in front of me. Just because I wasn’t at the office didn’t mean I didn’t have paperwork that required my attention. The business didn’t do well enough for me to hire employees, so I worked all the time, like an American.
Just when I got comfortable, someone knocked on the door.
I didn’t expect any visitors or packages, so I stayed quiet and waited for them to leave.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
I sighed before I crossed the room, wearing leggings and a sweater that exposed one shoulder. Since I was home without company, I ditched the bra. Because what kind of woman wore a bra when she was home?
I glanced through the peephole.
“What the…?” It was Bartholomew. At my apartment. Without an invitation. In his signature black look, he looked like a shadow that had crawled straight out of the darkness. The sun was just about to set, so it must have been the start of his day. “Why are you here?”
“I’d rather talk to you instead of the door.”
“Well, the door’s gonna have to do because you have no business being here.” He hadn’t left anything behind, so he hadn’t returned to claim forgotten items. He was there for another purpose—a purpose I wouldn’t entertain.
“You think I can’t get past this flimsy piece of wood?”
“I’m sure you can. But you can’t get past me.”
A full grin moved on to his handsome face, unable to contain his amusement. “You have a way with words that really gets to me.” The peephole limited my vision, but he seemed to slide his hands into the pockets of his jacket, getting comfortable outside my door.
He wasn’t going anywhere.
I took a deep breath and sighed before I let him in.
His eyes locked on mine the second he could see me. The smile had already disappeared, and now I met the intense stare that had caught my attention when he’d stepped into my shop. I should have known what he was then, because a man didn’t command the room like that unless he was somebody. Somebody who wasn’t afraid to ruffle feathers, to tell people what to do, to say what others didn’t want to hear. He entered my apartment and shut the door behind him, his boots distinct on my hardwood.
I already felt like I was out of my element the second we breathed the same air—and he was in my apartment. It’d been over a week since we’d said goodbye. A long night of good sex that filled my tank all the way. I knew I shouldn’t have gotten involved with him, even just for the night, but it’d certainly been worth it.
But now, I wasn’t so sure.
He glanced at the table. “Am I interrupting?”
“Are you looking for an invitation?”
He stepped closer to me, tall and slender, smelling like pine and soap…and gunpowder. It was a very specific smell you wouldn’t recognize unless you’d been around it your entire life…like I had. “If your cooking tastes anything like your pussy, then yes.”
I hid my reaction as best as I could, but I struggled. Only a man like him could pull off a line like that. Why did all the good fucks come from bad guys? I went for the same type of guy over and over. I’d done it again when I’d kneeled right at his cock to get those measurements I didn’t even need in the first place. I could figure it out just by looking at him. He had the measurements of a model. The height at over six feet. The broad, masculine shoulders. The body fat percentage that was less than six percent.