Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 465(@200wpm)___ 372(@250wpm)___ 310(@300wpm)
“You can’t have the old family ever again,” he says, and his eyes look sad and his smile fades away. “I’m sorry about that, love. If I could give it to you, I would. But this job with Rocco, it could be the start of something new. You could build something—”
“You should’ve asked me first.” I stare into his eyes. I can see where he’s going, but I don’t want to follow the logic. “You can’t just dump something like this on a person.”
“I hear you, and you’re right, we should have talked. But I knew you would’ve been too afraid. Valentina, you can rebuild the Santoro Famiglia, or at least you can make something new for yourself. You have the revenue streams, and you’ll have the start of the manpower once you win over Rocco and his people, and from there—”
“Stop it,” I snap, shaking my head. “Just stop it, okay? Those men are never going to follow me. I don’t know if you noticed, but I have tits and a pussy, and guys like Rocco only respect another swinging dick.”
“There have been female crime lords in the past. There will be more in the future. And I’ll help you.”
“You’re insane. Your own family wants to usurp you, and you think you can help me build something new?”
His face flinches, and I realize I shouldn’t have said that. “I’m going to fix that. We’re working on it together.”
“I know,” I say, feeling bad, but I can’t lose sight of what’s happening. He thrust me into a position I never asked for, and now he’s bringing up all my old wounds. I don’t want this, and I never did. “I understand you think you were doing something good here, but it’s too much. It’s just too much.”
He grunts and nods. “I hear you. But you need to think about it before you decide.”
“I should’ve thought about it before you cut that deal.”
He comes toward me. This time, I stand my ground, lifting my chin. He touches me, and I feel like I might crumble. I want comfort right now—I want him—but he’s also the source of all this hurt and anger.
“This could be good for you, love. And if it’s not and you really despise it, you can walk away. Nobody will force you to stick around.”
“You might.”
He tilts my chin until we’re staring into each other’s eyes. “No, not ever. You’ll be here because you want to be, not because I’m holding something over your head.”
I take a slow, deep breath, and lick my lips.
I want him, and I’m so mad at him.
I hate this asshole, but I also understand that he’s trying to give me a gift bigger than I probably deserve, and bigger than he probably realizes.
There’s a hole in me—a deep, horrible hole, like someone scooped out my insides and left me a body without organs. He wants to give me a chance to heal, to grow, to have a new place like I’ve always craved.
The job with Rocco could be the start of that. Or it could be nothing. I won’t know unless I try.
“You should’ve asked me first,” I whisper.
“And miss this? I don’t know. I’m enjoying myself.”
I try to pull away, but he holds me tight and kisses me. I struggle, but there’s no real fight in me, not the moment his lips press against mine. It’s pathetic, I’m keenly aware of how weak I feel, but I can’t help myself.
I want this man. I hate him, and I hate him so badly it’s like a second pulse in my core.
His tongue slips between my lips. I bite him and he snarls, his eyes flaring. I smirk back as he pushes me into the counter. I gasp, the edge biting into my back, but he’s crushing my mouth with his and dominating me with his tongue. I moan into that kiss, into the bitter, delicious pleasure radiating through me, and the pure, animalistic lust echoing out from him in waves.
I’ve never been wanted like this before. Not with such a raw intensity. He grabs my hair with one hand and pulls hard enough to make it hurt, and I gasp in anger as he kisses my neck and yanks down the front of my pants.
“I think you need a reminder, love,” he growls as I put my hands on his chest. His heart’s racing under my palms. “Maybe you’ve forgotten what it feels like.”
“It’s hard to forget,” I say back, and his hand moves down into my panties. I moan, biting my lip. He’s being aggressive and forward, and I fucking like it. His palm cups my pussy, and for a moment, he stares into my eyes.
“Tell me you’re not wet. Go ahead, love, tell me you’re not dripping into my hands right fucking now. Tell me you’re not a messy fucking girl for me. Tell me you don’t want me to fuck you deep and filthy until you’re so lost in orgasm, you’re willing to give me anything I want. Go ahead and say it, I fucking dare you. Go ahead and lie to my face.”