Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109562 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 548(@200wpm)___ 438(@250wpm)___ 365(@300wpm)
Now that I finally rediscovered spontaneous hard-ons and my lust returned with a vengeance, it’s twice as difficult to ignore the need firing through my veins. I’ve never been this turned on for anyone, certainly not constantly and with an urgency that drives me wild. Even doubling up on pumping iron at the gym isn’t enough to alleviate the frustration. The hand jobs I have in ice cold showers only aggravate matters. But I persist, determined to wait until next week, and since the prenatal class, Anya walks circles around me.
Fuck. Richard was right. That video still haunts my thoughts day and night. The bastard laughed his ass off when he saw my face. My skin must’ve turned gray. Thinking about a woman having a baby is one thing. Up to now, it’s been an abstract concept in my head. Seeing how a natural birth takes place on screen is quite a different matter. I hated myself for ever wanting those four to six kids because it made me a fucking sadistic son of a bitch. How could I want to submit any woman to that? The idea still turns me inside out.
I’m surprised how calmly Anya took everything after knowing what’s in store for her. My treasure is a lot braver than what she gives herself credit for. I knew it the night I chased after her to kill her. No, not to kill her. To shut her up. To make sure she didn’t spill anything from those pretty lips. I knew it when, despite her disadvantage in size, she fought me like a hellcat. I knew it without a doubt when Livy told me about her traumatic past. She’s a survivor, and that’s something I admire.
Nicole will have to do a Caesarian. There’s no other way, no way I’m letting Anya go through that hell that may very well kill her. I won’t be able to stand by her side and see her suffer that kind of pain. No fucking way. Not to mention the million and one things that can go wrong.
“Where the fuck are you?” Dante asks, snapping his fingers in my face. “Because you’re not in this room.”
Forcing those tormenting images from my mind, I grab two clean mugs. “Anything new on Raphael?”
Dante rests a shoe on the foot bar of the stool and props a hand on his hip, brushing his jacket aside. “That’s why I’m here. He’s replacing Luigi’s men with his own at Obsidian.”
I still at that. “Does Luigi know?”
“Yep.”
I pour the coffee when it’s ready. “Are you sure? He didn’t say anything to me.”
“Luigi went to the club last night. He was there to validate the decision when Raphael told the men they’re no longer working their shifts. I wasn’t present myself, but one of the guys said Luigi went on about how each man should be allowed to work with a team he trusts, and that Raphael will have more chance of succeeding if he works with his own men because they understand each other and how they operate. According to the bouncer I spoke to, Luigi said he would’ve done the same if he were in Raphael’s shoes. If anything, he considered it a sign of a good manager.”
Interesting. “Where are the men reallocated?”
“The smaller clubs.” He pulls his mug closer and lifts it to his mouth. “By the way, where is Anya?”
I clench my jaw and pick up my mug. “Why do you ask?”
“Don’t look as if you want to bite off my head. I’m just wondering.”
Narrowing my eyes, I ask, “Wondering what?”
“How things are between you.”
“Great,” I say with a bite in my tone. “It was a long week for her. She’s sleeping in this morning.”
He raises a hand. “Okay.”
The subject of our discussion walks through the door, dressed in a long-sleeved red dress that reaches mid-thigh. She matched it with black boots that show off her milky skin and toned legs. Red looks good on her. It brings out the color of her eyes and her hair. I like it. A lot.
Catching Dante staring, I cut him a look that says I’m about to stab out his eyes.
He clears his throat. “Morning, Anya. How are you?”
“Good, thanks.” She smiles in his direction before heading toward the kettle. “You?”
“Just catching up with Sav.”
“Oh.” She stops at the island. “Am I interrupting?”
“No,” Dante and I say simultaneously.
A wanton look comes over her face as she stares at the cup in my hand. Reaching for it, she asks, “May I?”
I hold tight when she tries to take it from me. “What are you doing?”
When she insists, I don’t have a choice but to let go lest I spill the piping hot coffee over her hand.
Lifting the mug to her nose, she inhales deeply. “Mm, this smells so good.”
Dante frowns.
Trust me to be an inconsiderate idiot. I shouldn’t brew coffee in the house when I know damn well caffeine is on her red list.