Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 74800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74800 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 374(@200wpm)___ 299(@250wpm)___ 249(@300wpm)
She jumps to her feet when she sees me coming, and she quickly walks away when she realizes I have no intention of slowing down.
My pace remains unchanged even as she keeps looking over her shoulder to gauge the distance between us. If I want to, I can get to her before she can even draw her next breath.
But I don't.
Because her nervousness is something I want to savor, and so I bide my time like a predator wanting to lull its target into a false sense of security...before pouncing to devour my prey.
She wants me.
I can practically fucking smell the silken wetness of her womanhood like a goddamn wolf.
This girl wants me as much as I want her, but the fact that she's managed to resist me this long also tells me I need to take extra fucking care.
One threatening misstep from me, and she'll run like hell. The only reason she hasn't yet is because of her pride, and I need to keep it that way.
A swift look around us shows that most of tonight's guests are at the concert.
Good.
With the main driveway of our property mostly empty, the accompanying silence gives me the chance to draw her into a conversation without getting too close.
"What's your name?"
She lifts her shoulders in an I-don't-know shrug, and my lips twitch.
"Do you know who I am?"
She shakes her head, and I chuckle. "Liar."
Another shrug, which I assume is her way of telling me to think whatever I want.
"I'm no evil man, ciliegina mia—-"
She skids to a stop and turns around to glare at me.
Interessante...
"So you think I'm evil?"
She rejects this with an impatient gesture with her hand, and my lips curve.
Ah.
"So you do think I'm evil, but that's not what bothers you. Rather, what you didn't appreciate—-is me calling you my little cherry."
Her fingers curl into fists against her sides, but this only makes me want to provoke her even more.
"Perché?" Why? "Do you doubt that I am the man to pop it?"
Her eyes widen with outrage, but just when she's about to tear her mask off her face to chew me out—-
"Ynez!"
She breaks into a run without looking back, and fuck, fuck, fuck!
I'm fast, but I'm no fucking wolf to track her by scent, and I lose her the moment she joins the sea of girls wearing Boston Says Boo shirts and dancing to the main act up on stage.
FUCK!
I waste no time in trekking up to the main house, and Cesare is visibly surprised to see me come barging inside our security room in the basement.
My brother swings around to face me, and behind him is a wall of monitors showing real-time footage of what's taking place outside our property. The cameras installed inside that people see are all dummies; what we do here is our business alone, and even if that means not having video evidence of any instance we're under attack, it's a risk that our famiglia is willing to take.
"È successo qualcosa?" Did something happen?
"I'm looking for a girl."
The worry on Cesare's face immediately turns into exasperation, and I shake my head, saying, "This one is different."
"You've never said that about the others, I'll give you that." My brother's tone, however, remains slightly skeptical, but I take no offense since he's only stating the truth. Women are nothing but objects for hire in my life, and for the large part, I know it's the same for all of my brothers...except Giancarlo, of course.
I throw an impatient look at the other guys on duty, asking, "Who's in charge here of admissions?"
Cesare points to a younger man seated at the back, and the latter straightens nervously in his chair. "Sì, signore?"
"How many guests named Ynez do we have registered?"
His fingers tap furiously on the keyboard. "Just...one, signore."
"Email me everything you have on her."
"Sì, signore."
My phone vibrates in my pocket a moment later, and after just a few clicks, I finally know what my little cherry looks like.
Ciao, ciliegina mia.
Part II
One
Massimo
FIVE YEARS LATER...
Boston's most popular men's club was closed for the evening, but this came as no surprise to virtually any resident of the city.
La Tana, which was Italian for 'the lair', was owned by Potenziana Marchetti, and tomorrow was her grandson Cesare's wedding. Tonight's private function could only be Cesare's bachelor party, but as for what exactly was taking place within La Tana's luxuriously masculine premises...
That was why members of the paparazzi had been hanging outside the club since morning. The only invited guests seemed to be Cesare's brothers...plus a Michelin-starred chef who had flown from Tokyo and headed straight to La Tana from the airport.
The night wore on, and those still waiting outside the club began feeling restless. Any and every attempt to bribe employees into taking photos was completely rejected, and with the club's security armed to the teeth, no one had been foolish or desperate enough to even think of sneaking in.