Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 87
Estimated words: 80475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80475 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 402(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
“You worry about you and I’ll worry about me. Thanks for fucking nothing.” I pull my phone from my ear and hit the end key before tossing it down onto the desk. I can still feel Sophie’s eyes on me. I want to fucking consume her, take all the goodness out of her and swallow it.
“You okay, Rom?” The commotion pulls Mac from his conversation with Dev.
“I’m great—fucking excited. I’m going to add another body to my tally of kills, then fuck the first bitch who offers herself to me tonight.” Mac grins at me, giving me a fist bump, but as soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel sick.
I've never felt shameful about the things I do. Fighting has always been my outlet for my uncontrollable emotions. It's how I dealt with my anger toward my brother, and how I make all my money. But when my eyes clash with Sophie's, I wish I could hide what I do, at least from her. A small part of me wants her to see me as the hero she claims me to be.
She looks sad, disappointed, and shocked. Most likely because I'm talking about murdering men right out in the open like I’m discussing the weather, but there’s no way after what happened this morning I’m letting her not see this side of me. She needs to know who she asked to kiss her—she needs to see me as I kill and bathe in the blood of my enemy.
“I thought you said you fight?” She gives both Mac and I a puzzled look.
I grin. “I do. I just failed to mention it's to the fucking death. If you lose, you're dead.”
Her beautiful face pales, and the book in her hands slips to the floor. She's looking at me like she's terrified, and I can feel Mac’s eyes boring into my face. He's probably wondering why the fuck she’s here, not that he's going to ask. He knows better than that.
“You can't do that. What if something happens to you? What if you die?” Her bottom lip trembles, and her fear only turns me on more. I want her to want me...to need me as sick and twisted as it is. Tonight, I want her afraid so she knows how she makes me feel.
“Calm down, babe. Roman always wins…obviously.” Mac grins at her. I don't miss the pet name he uses either. It makes me want to punch him in the fucking face, which is ridiculous. He's one of my closest friends and she's not supposed to mean shit to me. Punching him in the face will definitely make it known she’s so much more than I lead her onto to be.
“I…I need to go to the bathroom,” she exclaims in a panicked tone. Jumping from the couch with a hand to her stomach, she looks around. Her sudden change in mood startles me. I grab onto the desk to stop myself from going after her. Mac points in the direction of the door across the hall, and she races from the room, a tearful look in her eyes.
Fuck. I screwed up. I hurt her. Again.
“I know it’s none of my business, but did you not take your pills yet?”
I grind my teeth, stopping myself from lashing out at him. If it's not Ivan, it’s someone else. My addiction is mine alone. Whatever vice I use to win my fights is mine too. I don't owe anyone an explanation.
“Of course I didn't take it yet. I need to come down and get a good night of sleep before the fight. I’ll take some an hour before. Why the fuck does it matter?”
My blood starts to boil. I don't even think about what I'm doing when I stand up and shove from my desk, my fist clenched, my knuckles itching to slam into the side of Mac’s face.
“What the fuck, man?” Mac asks, a confused expression on his face. “Were you really thinking about punching me?”
My nostrils flare. The need to break, to destroy, pounds against my temple.
I'm out of control. Like a plane nose diving toward the ground, the only ending I'm prepared for is tragedy. “I'm sorry. I'm just…I don't know…” I release my clenched fist and let out a long sigh.
“Doesn't have anything to do with that chick, does it?” The mention of Sophie triggers my anger all over again. I don’t want to admit it’s Sophie and a combination of other things getting to me.
“No,” I bite out, and of course Sophie appears, walking back into the room, her eyes bloodshot. The blue of her irises is brighter, and she looks like she's been crying. I really fucking hope those tears aren't for me. If they are, I’ll give her a real reason to cry.
“I want to go back to the house,” she announces, and a bubble of laughter escapes my lips.