Total pages in book: 56
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 263(@200wpm)___ 210(@250wpm)___ 175(@300wpm)
“Mr. Georgio,” the captain’s voice comes through the intercom in the bedroom. “Please retake your seat at your earliest convenience. We’ll be landing in Las Vegas in thirty minutes.”
It feels strange to be called by a different name, now that I remember my real one. Dietrich Bellotti. Or, I guess that never was my real name either. It was an alias, a fucking amazing deep fake alias, but still. Not the name on my birth certificate. The identity I left behind decades ago.
The new one I created is part of them both. My mother’s last name and my old first name. Seemed fitting.
I’m headed back to reclaim my life. Or, the only part of it that matters. I’ve got a new life set up in Cayman with a house and all the money I’ll ever need to provide for her. Only problem, that voice attached to the phone number gave me some bad news. The whole fucking thing fell through.
They can do what they like with me, if they can find me.
But if they harm a single fucking hair on Hannah’s head, hell will be a vacation compared to what I’ll do to them.
Two hours later, my limo pulls up outside the rundown old house, parking down the street as I watch through my binoculars. It’s more of a shithole now than a year ago, with its cracked concrete driveway, the beat-up old Cadillac and the expanse of tan dirt for a front yard. I hate that she’s been here without me. I hate myself. For what, I’m not sure, but I fucked something up. I feel it in my bones.
I watch her come out of the door, making my heart seize. She’s wearing a too fucking short black skirt, a tight white sleeveless button up shirt with a black bow tie. Her blonde hair swirls around her shoulders and my dick is hard.
Hard. Hard. Hard.
It’s eleven o’clock. Third shift at the casinos.
I’m not ready to show myself so I tell the driver to follow as her Cadillac pulls out of the drive. We hang back as she takes a couple of turns, heading downtown, and I watch as she goes into a shitty old casino three blocks from the old strip.
“Wait here,” I tell the driver.
He won’t go anywhere. My benefactor told him to look after me.
Inside the casino, I see her in the bar, and I want to kiss her and tell her everything is going to be all right. I want her to ride my face and flood me with her liquid cunt candy until she remembers who her Daddy is.
But she looks through me like I’m not even there, standing behind the bar pouring cheap whiskey.
“What can I get you?” she says as though I’m the king of this shithole but the music of her voice nearly crumples me to the floor.
It’s rehearsed. She’s acting and I don’t think she even really sees me. She doesn’t meet my eyes. I’m just another sad sucker on my way out of town. “Nothing.” I answer but that’s a lie. I just don’t want a fucking drink.
I slip into a dark corner booth where I can stare at her without drawing attention. God, she’s beautiful. If she’d seen my eyes would she know it was me?
I’m in jeans and a white shirt. Lots of things have changed. Wearing five thousand dollar suits on a tropical island didn’t seem practical and turns out, casual is comfortable. I’m in a new fucking season of my life and there are benefits I didn’t expect.
One of the patrons at the counter whistles, his red beard and bloodshot eyes telling me this isn’t his first port of call. “Hey, bubble butt, another whiskey and have one for yourself, too. Then, come lean over the counter here and show me those tits.”
She smiles, it’s fucking fake but I’m gripping the edge of the table until my knuckles turn white. That smile should be for me. I watch her pour his drink, then throw him a little wink as he laughs, shifting in his seat, battling back a boner I’m sure.
Because I am.
“You’re too pretty for a place like this.” He keeps on, changing his tactic from crude to caring.
“Thank you,” she says on a teasing wink. “I’m just working here while I’m waiting for my prince charming to sweep me off my feet.”
“Well, maybe I could be him? Gimme a kiss and find out.”
She smiles again. It’s fake but I see red.
In a second, I’m out of my seat and my fist connects with his bony jaw. He goes sideways fast, coming right off his stool as he scrabbles against the counter, managing to stay on his feet. His fist swooshing through the air, but I swipe it aside, step forward and swing again, feeling my knuckles squish into his eye socket.