Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
“That’s not all,” I say, swallowing and glancing back over to the ring box that I haven’t yet opened. The moment I say the next words, I know it’ll be set in stone. That I’m royally fucked. “I’m engaged to Eli Monti.”
I hear something drop, and know he’s already pacing the room. I bite the skin surrounding my nails, holding my breath. I know his mind is working busily, just like mine, but I haven’t had time to fucking think. Eli Monti is all-consuming.
“How? How can you be engaged to this man?”
“He stole my guns, and in order to get them back, he wants a contract where I marry him. He’ll pay me as well… fifty million dollars.”
“Fucking hell, Jewel, you should have put the bullet in his head the minute he discovered your identity. Fifty million isn’t a small amount, but is it really worth marrying into a mafia family? And you’ll have a target on your back for reneging on your client’s terms. It’ll ruin your career. Just kill the fucker and forget about the guns. I have one of your father’s guns here. I’ll let you have that.”
“It’s not his favorite one, though,” I say quietly. No, his favorite is the Barrett M82. It’s the same sniper rifle I’ve used for all my long-distance shots. Defeated, I admit, “He also stole one of the knives you gave me for my birthday last year.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the knives, Jewel. And your father wouldn’t care about his guns either. His favorite were the guns that kept you safe. Not when they’re putting you in danger.”
I wipe my eyes even though there are no tears coming out. The last time I cried was at his funeral, and I’ll be fucked if I let a man like Eli Monti push me so far into a corner to break me all over again.
I know something like my guns might seem silly to others, but they’re literally all I have. I didn’t have a happy upbringing. I had a mother who looked at me with disgust and a father who taught me how to survive in a man’s world. And then I was left behind to make my way through that world. There is no one and nothing left for me.
Only that gun collection… and Craig.
“End it. Don’t dig yourself deeper,” Craig says carefully.
I feel tired. It’s been so long since I’ve actually made a kill shot that I miss the empowering buzz. I feel less than mortal lately, and it fucking sucks. But one thing I adamantly cannot do is let anyone else win. I’ll die with my fucking pride. I won’t back down just because Eli thinks he can take from me and control me. I roll my shoulders defiantly. No man will break me—especially not a Monti.
“I want them, Craig. I’ll do the job, and once it’s done, I won’t ever come back to this city,” I say more to myself than him. I love Craig, and I usually take his advice. But the guns? They are non-negotiable. And I hate that Eli figured that out so quickly.
“Use those brains your father gave you. Don’t be reckless,” he implores. I smirk at that because we both know reckless is my middle name. A knock on the front door startles me. Jenny isn’t here to answer it, so I jump off my bed.
“Thanks, Craig. I’ll keep you updated. If you don’t hear from me, I’m probably dead.”
“That’s not even funn—” I hang up on him as I open the door, and my stomach drops through the floor. What the fuck?
The woman standing before me wears a pinstripe suit and black heels, and her hair is perfectly tied back. Those almost silver eyes stare back at me, and I’m in shock as I look at the powerful woman who was on the television only hours ago, discussing matters of her recently closed case.
Rya fucking Monti is standing at my door.
Her gaze sweeps up me, though it gives nothing away. “Jewel Diamond?”
“Speaking.” Embarrassment rushes through me. “I mean, yes, that’s me, ma’am.” Ma’am? Why the fuck am I calling her ma’am?
She quirks a tight smile.
If I thought Eli was intimidating, he has nothing on his mother.
She steps into my apartment without invitation, which is apparently something that must run in their family.
“Do you know who I am?” she asks, looking around. She doesn’t seem as amused as her son was only days ago when he first walked in.
Fuck, why is she here? Does she know about the hit on her son?
“Yes.” I nod. “You’re Mrs. Monti.”
“Good. And I know who you are. So, why are you marrying my son?” Her heavy gaze slides back over to me and then down to the bare ring finger on my left hand.
Shit. Talk about putting a woman on the spot. How do I tell her I’m only marrying her son because he offered me a large sum of money and he stole all my guns? I’m sure that’s not the story he wants me to tell her. And to be honest, I hate lying, but it’s something I’m going to have to do if I ever want to see my guns again. It doesn’t make it any easier to square up against this woman who oozes intimidation and a cunning intellect.