Vengeful Commander (New Orleans Malones #2) Read Online Laylah Roberts

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, BDSM, Contemporary, Erotic, Kink, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: New Orleans Malones Series by Laylah Roberts
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Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 92474 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 462(@200wpm)___ 370(@250wpm)___ 308(@300wpm)
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Likely less.

He didn’t say that though. And he needed to figure out a way to get her car looked at. He still didn’t like the noise it was making.

“You won’t break anything.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.”

“I don’t give a shit if you destroy the whole car, all right?”

“Well, I’ll try not to do that. But okay.”

Reaching across her, he grabbed the seatbelt and fastened it. Her cheeks filled with red, and he swore a shiver ran through her as his arm brushed against her breasts.

“I can do that.”

“I know.” That was all he said. She didn’t make any more protests, which surprised him.

He liked doing things for her.

But he loved that she seemed to like him taking care of her.

It spoke to the protector inside him. The part of him that would wrap her up tightly to keep her safe from the dangers of this world.

If only he wasn’t one of those dangers.

Turning back, he started his truck and drove toward Matteo’s restaurant. He pulled into a parking spot, then he turned to her.

“This place good?”

“Yeah. I’ve never been in here.” She bit her lip, and he could tell she was worrying again.

“What’s wrong?”

She glanced down at herself, then over at the restaurant. “Maybe getting some takeout is a better idea.”

Reaching out, he gently took hold of her chin, turning her face toward him. This was wrong. He shouldn’t touch her, shouldn’t look at her, and he definitely shouldn’t be taking her out for dinner.

Yet here he was.

And there was no turning back now.

Not tonight anyway. Maybe tomorrow he’d be stronger. Once he was out of her presence.

Yeah. Right.

“You look beautiful no matter what you’re wearing. You outshine everyone else.”

She shook her head, and he moved his fingers away from her chin. “You flatterer, you. But seriously, I can’t go in like this. Can I?”

“If it makes you uncomfortable, we won’t go in.”

“It doesn’t embarrass you? Being seen with me?” she asked.

“Embarrass me? How the fuck could you ever do that? And who gives a fuck what anyone thinks.”

Happiness filled her face, and she ducked her head shyly. “For a guy that doesn’t talk a lot, you say the nicest things.”

Christ. He’d never been accused of being nice. But around her, he could be different. He wasn’t Victor, the fighter, the enforcer.

“All right then, I’d like to go in.”

“Good.”

She reached for her door handle, but he grabbed hold of her arm. “Wait for me to come around and open your door.”

“I’ve never had someone open doors for me before you.”

“Then you’ve been hanging out with the wrong people.”

She gave him an intense look. “I think I have been.”

She’d been right.

She really wasn’t dressed for this place. She looked out of place beside Victor in his expensive-looking clothes. But to her surprise, no one seemed to bat an eye. In fact, as soon as the hostess saw him, she’d blanched white then started stammering.

Victor was an intimidating-looking guy, sure. But it seemed an over-reaction since he was being polite to the woman.

She guided them to a booth at the back. It was darker and again, Victor sat with his back to the wall, looking out at the room. After taking their drink orders, their server scampered off.

“Do you always like to sit where you can view the whole room?” she blurted out.

He glanced over at her with his eyebrow raised.

“Sorry,” she said. “It’s just I noticed you sat like that yesterday and today you’re doing the same. But was that rude to ask?”

“Not rude, no. Observant.”

She ran her finger over the veins in the wooden table. Reaching out, he placed his hand over hers. She sucked in a deep breath. The warmth of his skin infused her. His palm was rough, the top of his hand covered in scars. Not to mention the scrapes on his knuckles.

“You’re nervous.”

“Slightly,” she agreed.

“Because of me?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I’m sorry.”

She gave him a surprised look. He didn’t seem the type to apologize easily. And she wasn’t quite sure why he was now.

“For what?”

“Making you nervous. Is it my size? The way I acted before? I was angry, but it wasn’t at you. I thought someone hurt you and . . .”

“I get it.” She placed her free hand on top of his, sandwiching his big hand between hers. “And I’m not scared of you.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “I saw the way you backed away from me.”

“All right, for a moment I might have been scared. You looked rather frightening when you entered the bakery. But then I understood that you were angry on my behalf and, well, it’s been a long time since anyone felt protective of me.”

He gave her a long, searching look. “You don’t have anyone to take care of you?”

She smiled, aware it was slightly sad. “I can look after myself.”

“Why don’t I believe that?”



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