Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59551 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 298(@200wpm)___ 238(@250wpm)___ 199(@300wpm)
I twist to face him.
“You want the God’s honest truth?”
My heart picks up speed. I sense something big coming, but can’t imagine what it would be. “Yes.” I sound breathless.
“You’re in my nightmares, angel. The ones where I get shot? Sometimes you get shot, too.”
I stifle a gasp.
“I guess because you were there when it happened. And so now I feel attached to you. And it’s stupid, but sometimes I’m afraid it’s a warning. Like I’m supposed to make sure nothing happens to you.”
I sit in shocked silence, prickles raising the hairs on my arms. Of all the confessions I expected—and I expected zero, but still—it wouldn’t be this one.
“Th-that’s why you came to Milano’s? To check on me?”
He gives a single nod.
“Is that why you loaned me the money?”
He shrugs. “I’m sure I would’ve loaned it anyway. But yeah. It feels more significant.”
I’m stunned.
Gio Tacone is superstitious. Or religious. Or whatever. Which I guess makes sense, considering he had a near-death experience.
It changes everything I feel about the man. Well, maybe not everything, but a lot. His motives aren’t sinister.
And it’s stupid, but knowing he’s assigned meaning to my presence in his nightmares makes me feel special. Knowing he thinks he’s supposed to protect me gives me secret strength.
I reach out and touch his arm. “All this time, I’ve been trying to figure out what you really wanted from me. Why you were being so kind. I thought it might be a trick.”
He shakes his head. “No trick. But don’t go assuming this makes me a nice guy,” he warns, pulling on to my grandparents’ street. “I’m not. I’m just… trying to get rid of the bad dreams.”
I smile softly. It’s on the tip of my tongue to suggest a therapist instead of following me around, but then I don’t really want that.
I kind of like knowing the playboy Gio Tacone is semi-obsessed with me. At least with keeping me safe.
It’s like I have my own personal superhero. The dark kind who wields a shit ton of power but has done many bad things with it. Or is he actually the supervillain teetering on the edge of redemption?
Either way, I’m so freaking turned on by that.
He pulls up at the curb and I lean over, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Gio. You’re a true prince.”
He snorts. “Watch it, angel. I’ll disabuse you of that notion in seconds flat.”
I grin. It’s a wicked grin. The flirty kind I’ve never worn before. “Can’t wait.”
Oh God, did I say that? Too late to take it back. I close the door on the surprise flaring in his eyes and hustle away to my grandparents’ door.
Gio Tacone. My dark prince.
I freaking love it.
Chapter 4
Gio
I told Marissa to call when she got to the L station. That I’d pick her up so she wasn’t walking alone at night.
And somehow, I knew she wouldn’t.
Whether it’s because she’s stubborn and independent or whether it’s because she’s testing my threat to spank her ass, I’m not sure. I definitely noticed how she turned to hot syrup and got flirty with me when I said it.
Either way, when the doorman calls up to say she’s downstairs, I’m pissed off and turned on all at once. “Send her up,” I tell him and stand in my doorway, arms folded across my chest.
The first thing I see when the elevator doors open is the skirt and heels. Cue the soundtrack: She’s Got Legs. And she definitely knows how to use them.
My cock gets harder than stone as I watch her toss that caramel-colored hair and strut into my apartment.
She brought a crate on a handcart, which I take from her and wheel in after the customary two cheek air kisses.
“I asked you to call me from the station,” I remind her the moment I shut the door.
“I wanted to walk.” She breezes past me into my kitchen, like she knows full well I’ll follow with the groceries. She probably knows I’m watching her ass, too, based on the way she’s swishing it. As soon as we’re in the kitchen I leave the cart and crowd up behind her, pushing her hips up to the granite countertop.
“Angel, you must’ve misunderstood,” I rumble in her ear as I catch both her wrists and pin them behind her back.
She gasps, but says nothing, her quickened breath the evidence of her excitement.
I give her ass a hard slap—punishment hard—and she jerks a bit. “See, in this situation, I’m like your employer. You’re working for me.” Another hard slap, this time on the other cheek.
She shifts on her heels, wobbling slightly.
“When I give you directions, I expect them to be followed, angel.” One more slap. “Or there will be consequences.” I rub the last place I spanked, letting the slippering fabric slide over the luscious curve of her ass.