Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 16796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 16796 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 84(@200wpm)___ 67(@250wpm)___ 56(@300wpm)
Dante Vitorri, the Demon, has claimed me as payment. But I’m not good enough for him. For the life he’s shown me tonight. I don’t deserve the expensive champagne or luxury apartment. I’m a small-town girl, something for him to play with when he’s not off doing God knows what for the Don.
It’s silly to think I ever had a chance with him, and it’s worse throwing myself into it fully. Tonight, I’ll enjoy my time in his arms, pretending we can make this work. I need the escape from the hard reality that tomorrow will bring.
9
DANTE
Three Days Later
Ihaven’t left her side since we arrived at my place. Like a lost little puppy, I follow her around my apartment, eager for another touch or confirmation from my angel. Without trying, Natalie Pryce has hooked me worse than any drug ever could. The thought of letting her go anywhere other than my lap brings with it an intense pressure in my chest that makes me want to keel over and die.
And I fucking love every second of it.
We’ve spent the last few days at my place. Unable to keep our hands off one another, be it in another glorious sex or cuddling on the couch, pretending this is normal.
It’s oddly nice, even if I know it can’t last forever. Someday, I’ll have to leave again to enact the Don’s vengeance on some poor sod who got mixed up in something he wasn’t ready for. But until that day, I’ll bask in the glory of this perfect daydream.
“Oh, shit, I have to go,” she says out of nowhere, shuffling off the sofa where we’re mindlessly staring at a cooking show on TV. “My shift’s starting in twenty minutes.”
“So? Fuck ‘em. Larry Kissinger wouldn’t dare give you trouble for missing a shift when I’m around.” My head feels heavy as I try to turn it to face Natalie. I’m an exhausted mess, and I can’t believe she’s bouncing on her feet and rushing to get dressed for work.
Still, I follow along as she heads to the bedroom, where her clothes are still scattered across my floor. In an attempt to preserve them, I’ve kept her naked as long as I could—at least, that’s the excuse I tell myself. But mostly, she’s been wearing my shirts that look like a dress on her for the duration of her stay.
“You do know you never have to lift another finger for that prick again, right?” I stop in the doorway and lean against the frame, watching her scurry across the room.
“That prick puts food on the table,” she groans.
“He also strips you naked with his beady eyes.” My blood instantly runs hot as I say those words. Even while squaring off against Rick and his boys, I caught a glimpse of Larry staring at Natalie’s breasts.
Had I not left three men in a puddle on his barroom floor, Larry would have been the one who caught my aggression that night. But in this pursuit of Natalie’s affection, I have to remain somewhat stable and lucid. If I lost my temper at every wandering eye, this whole damn town would be blind.
She pulls her tube top overhead and adjusts it to hide her tits. It sucks to see them go. “I’ll come back after work, but I can’t neglect my responsibilities.”
“Your only responsibility is being here,” I growl.
Natalie stops dead in her tracks, and her eyes widen at my statement.
“So, that’s all it is?” She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, staring at me like a deer in headlights.
Shit, I said the wrong thing. It was bound to happen eventually. I’ve never been good with these conversations. I’m best suited in the field, being a weapon for the Lion, not trying to wear my emotions on my sleeve.
“No, wait, let me—”
“Bought and paid for, so I don’t have a say in what happens?” The doe-eyed stare shifts into narrow-eyed fury.
“It’s not like that.” I’m backed into a corner, doing my best to stay calm, but aggression is bubbling to the surface. My annoyance isn’t directed at Natalie. I don’t think it ever could be. It’s at myself for fucking this up so soon after it started.
“Then what is it?” she spits, pulling on her pants in a rush, trying to guard herself inside tight short shorts and a revealing crop top.
Talking has never been my strong suit. I use my fists instead of my words, and I firmly believe whoever said the pen is mightier than the sword would’ve changed his tune if he met me. Living this way has kept me out of touch. I can’t even speak to the only woman who has ever lit a spark in my chest without scaring her away.
She starts storming toward me, and I step aside to let her pass. I don’t want her to feel trapped in my home. It should be a safe place for her to come and go as she pleases, but allowing her to pass only enhances her speed to escape.