Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 25253 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 126(@200wpm)___ 101(@250wpm)___ 84(@300wpm)
“She’s dangerous.”
He doesn’t elaborate to whom, but I suppose if I asked, he would say everyone because a danger to me is a danger to the entire organization, maybe even the entire city.
“When have we ever been afraid of trouble, Lars? Isn’t our role to embrace the chaos and make order out of it?” I rip the gauze with my teeth and slap a piece of tape on the bandage to keep it closed.
“Our role is to assist in maintaining order, and since you are the Father here…” He trails off, allowing me to fill in the blanks.
I lift my bandaged hand. “I’ve bled plenty to keep the order here. I’ve always done my duty, and currently my obligations are to keep this girl safe until Santino is able to accomplish his task. Since I left her with a broken wine glass and a half-eaten meal, I’m returning to make sure I execute my obligations properly.”
Lars keeps his mouth shut as I walk toward the door. At the entry, a thought pops into my head. “Lars, get an H&M set up here tomorrow.”
He nods, but I hear him ask the empty room, “What’s an H&M?” after I leave.
The kitchen table is empty when I arrive. The plate is gone, and so are any traces of broken glass or blood. A few questions of the staff later, I find out she’s in the gardens. My feet take me to the closest set of exterior doors. It takes me a bit, but I find her in one of the far gardens, with her hands clasped behind her back as she stares into the base of a fountain.
“There’s a naked boy peeing into the water. That doesn’t seem very godly to me,” she says as I approach.
“How did you know it was me?” She hadn’t even cast an eye in my direction.
“It was you or Lars. You haven’t really allowed anyone else near me, and so I figured I had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right.”
“And you picked me why?”
“Because Lars isn’t going to come looking for me. At least not without your orders.”
She has that right. I forget how savvy street kids are, although she didn’t grow up on the street. From what she’s shared, she’s been shuttled between foster homes. Sometimes foster parents are good and decent, but a lot of times, the parents are just in it for the state check, and in bad situations, they’re doing it because it’s easy prey. Angel has some hard edges to her. She’s not anyone’s prey—at least not an easy target.
“It’s good reasoning. Stick to that. No one looks for you, no one tells you what to do, no one touches you.”
Her head tilts in my direction, and the naughty smile she wore at the kitchen table appears. “No one touches me?” she repeats. “No one at all or no one else?”
My blood grows hot. The Abbott’s visit is a distant memory. Lars’ warnings have faded. The vows I took, the ones I repeated just moments ago, have shriveled on my tongue. Instead, my head is full of her—her beauty, her spice, her strength. I want to eat her up in one gulp, tie her down, drive into her, and pierce that virgin veil. I could so easily pull those soft pants down over her ass and bend her over the edge of the stone fountain. I’d spank her ass cheeks until they were pink to match her pussy and then I’d spread her legs and take her hard. She’d scream loud enough to send the birds flying and my team of bodyguards running. Then I’d have to take the gun at my ankle and kill them.
A bell rings in the distance. “Lars says I should return you to Santino. Would you want that?” I ask instead of answering her question.
The naughty smile disappears. “No, when have I ever indicated I want to go back to him? I want my friend here, not Kane Santino.”
“That’s not a possibility. She’s his now, and he won’t allow anyone near her.” His angry phone call to me confirmed what I’d heard from other sources. He’s very attached to this girl. Going to his place and taking her would be tantamount to declaring war.
Angel’s face falls. “I’m worried about her. Can I at least talk to her?”
“Maybe. When she’s ready.” Or when Santino feels safe enough to allow her to have contact with the outside world. That may not be for years, but I don’t share that with Angel. Her unhappy face disturbs me. “The peeing boy is Cupid,” I find myself saying.
“Him?” She jerks a finger toward the statue. “I thought Cupids had bows and arrows, not a”—she pulses her hands in the air as if she’s holding something between her hands—“wagon wheel.”
“It’s based off the Titian painting called ‘Cupid with the Wheel of Time.’ Cupid tries to stop the inevitable roll toward death with the power of love or something like that.”