Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 72340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72340 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 362(@200wpm)___ 289(@250wpm)___ 241(@300wpm)
No one talks to me like she does. Even through her fear, she can’t help but speak her mind, and there is something refreshing about that.
Before I can get a word in, she continues, “You bring me to this house, and I have no idea what’s going on or who you are. You take my entire world away from me, leaving me at your mercy. I’m confused, scared, and trying to figure out how I should approach all of this, and you—”
I cut her off, my lips sending whatever words that were going to escape back into her as I hold her captive within a searing kiss.
A groan escapes her lips, and I smile against her mouth, knowing full well she enjoys my lips on hers. I coax her lips open, slowly invading her mouth with my own. She tastes delectable, and I feel like I won’t ever be able to get enough of her.
Her small hands skim across my chest and onto my back. Her nails rake my skin, and I’m on the verge of losing the last shred holding me back from taking her right here and now.
Pulling back, I take in the red splotches spreading across her cheeks as her big, brown, doe eyes look back at me. She looks a bit taken aback, but more importantly, she seems thoroughly satisfied.
“Not so much of a monster now, am I?” I joke, my finger swiping across her plump bottom lip.
“You’re still a monster,” she retorts, pulling away from me as if she is embarrassed to have kissed me, and enjoyed it.
“Remember that, sweetheart, when I bury my face between those creamy thighs of yours.” I smirk as I get up from the bed and walk away.
Now I have to take a shower so I can beat myself off again. Hopefully, this won’t become my nightly ritual.
7
Enzo
When I awake the next morning, my body is overly warm. I feel a small hand against my chest and a leg curved into my thigh. Even if she says she hates me, this alone tells me not all of her does. Part of her wants me. She craves something—comfort maybe.
I turn to glare at the clock that sits on the nightstand. It is nearly six a.m. and although I don’t normally get up this early, I feel like I need to. I have some built up aggression, and I can’t get through the day if I don’t go workout.
I slip quietly and slowly from the bed, so I don’t wake Amara.
She is a spitfire. I haven’t given her enough credit. She isn’t okay with anything that I do, in fact, I’m sure she is afraid of it—as she should be. The mafia is no place for a woman. My mother hadn’t…
The thought enters my mind, but I force it away. I refuse to think about my mother. Refuse. It is a shame because I loved her, but thinking about her opens up a gaping hole in my chest.
“Boss, there is someone here to see you,” Mack announces over the intercom located in my bathroom. I slip into the closet and pick out a pair of low-rise blue jeans and a T-shirt. I plan on staying home today, so I pick something that is laid back.
“I’ll be down in five,” I reply. I wipe on some deodorant and brush my teeth.
I slip out of the bedroom, but not before I allow myself a second to look at Amara lying in my bed. I feel nothing for her, but at the same time, I do. We both lost our mothers, so I know what she is going through on that front, but everything else is foreign to me.
“Who the fuck is here this early?” I yell to Mack, descending the stairs two at a time. My foot hits the bottom step when I turn to the front door to see Luccio–head of the Russo family–who owns the territory past the state line. We have no bad blood between us, but that doesn’t make it okay for him to come into my house without being invited.
“Luccio,” I say calmly. He is wearing a button down shirt and dress slacks. He doesn’t look as if he is ready to spill blood, but then again, most criminals don’t fit the profile of one.
“Lorenzo,” he says. His words are heavily laced with an Italian accent that reminds me of home.
“Mack tells me you’re here for something. What can I help you with?” I question, raising an eyebrow up at him.
He looks between Mack and me before dismissing his men. I’m not sure what is meant by that, but I don’t ask questions. A bat of my eyelash and Mack is gone, tending to other needs in the house.
“I believe we have gotten into a case that you may want to know about.” What could he possibly be talking about? We walk the short distance into the sitting room, taking seats across from one another.