Total pages in book: 24
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23250 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 78(@300wpm)
“Your mother wouldn’t want anything to happen to us. You have to do this. She’d want you to.” His manipulation tactic causes me to sneer. “Save us.”
“Save yourself, Elle,” I interject collecting her gaze. “Call me a romantic, but I’ll make you a new deal. Shoe fits, you agree to the arrangement, you all live for now. Shoe fits, you don’t agree to the arrangement, you all die. Shoe doesn’t fit, you live, but they still die.”
“How is that-”
There’s no hesitation to squeeze the trigger and watch the bullet pierce the space near his collarbone. Red streams cascade towards the floor as screams that sound almost identical to his son’s pour from him. Using the other hand, I tap a finger to my lips on a mocking, “Sh. Sh. Sh.”
The member of my team standing in the spot behind him swings a rope around his neck and pulls, cutting off his ability to make another sound. His mouth twitches in desperation for air while his face drains of all color.
“Pick it up, Elle.” Using the barrel of my gun, I nudge the object closer to her, thankful at the sight of her shaky, slim fingers curling around. “Let’s see if this is the last page in the DeLuca, Tremaine tale or just the ending to a chapter.”
Chapter Two
Elle
Venom flushes through my veins as I kick off the comfy black kitten heels I wear while staging homes – a job I love even if it doesn’t always love me. They look top of the line – good enough to fool most clients at a glance – but the truth is they’re really from the clearance section at Discount Debbie’s. Now, the shoe I’m being told to place on my tiny, aching foot into on the other hand? They are actually high fashion. And expensive. And a pair of shoes I cannot, nor could ever, probably afford on my salary.
Come on, Elle. You can’t really afford to not fit them, either. Arranging three funerals is not how you want to spend your fucking time.
The madman slowly strolls around his desk towards me. “You’re wasting my time, twinkle toes.”
I don’t say anything in return.
I simply watch to see what he’ll do next, slightly surprised when he uses his foot, angling me into giving him a better view of my pending actions.
With him now close enough to reach out and kick, I can’t stop my toes from twitching in anticipation.
Yeah, I’d like to pop him in the nuts. Watch that too pretty for anything good face of his scrunch in pain. Hear him howl in agony like a little bitch.
His brow suddenly cocks in an all-knowing fashion before flashing me a cocksure smile.
Ah…The asshole’s reading my mind. Predicting my moves. Maybe challenging me? Daring me to have the balls it’s clear he has? And he proved how big they were when he shot Drew in the foot without a second thought.
My attention flickers over to my stepbrother’s pallid face. Beads of sweat and tears are littering his skin while his uninjured twin – Adam – is struggling not to showcase fear in his stare or despair like their father. The sick, twisted little part of my brain that has always hated him for making me out to be the ugly stepchild in our relationship – of course, I am his stepchild, but that doesn’t mean he’s had to treat me as such – begs for me to call Nero’s bluff once more.
Keep challenging the underground Prince Charming.
See if maybe he’ll hurt my stepfather a little more so maybe he’ll think twice of ever dragging me into shit like this again.
Sadly, it’s probably best if I don’t because I’m picking up on a fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice you’ll have a bullet in your ass type of vibe from him.
And that’s really not what I mean when I say I don’t mind a bit of ass play.
Nero’s weapon-free fingers run through his hair, and the dark strands fall over dazzling, sinister eyes, before he pushes them back into perfection.
Murderous maniac persona aside, this man is unbelievably attractive. Over six feet tall, chiseled face with perfectly groomed facial hair, and tattoos sneaking out from under his dark suit like they need to be seen. Everything he does, he does with so much confidence it’s intoxicating. From the way he smiles to the way he speaks it’s impossible to deny how charismatic he is. Hell, he called me sexy – a term I’ve really only heard tossed my way right before I’m about to hit the sheets with someone – and not an ounce of me wanted to argue the opposite. Maybe it’s the deep rasp or maybe it’s the way his dark brown eyes own yours while speaking. Whatever it is, I hate how turned on it makes me. Especially considering the fact he’s not flirting with me but threatening my life as well as those I’m legally related to.