Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 61692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61692 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 308(@200wpm)___ 247(@250wpm)___ 206(@300wpm)
His sister was the girl Lucio told me about. In his letter, he mentioned Raina Lombardi. I have to keep her safe, to fucking babysit. As much as I wanted to refuse, I can’t. He’s my blood and there’s nothing that will make me reject his dying wish.
“Mr. Lombardi, I’m sure you know why I’ve asked for this meeting,” I respond as I unbutton my suit jacket and settle in the expensive leather seat. I wanted to kidnap Raina, to lock her away in my house, but I know I’ll have this asshole to deal with.
He follows suit, sitting opposite me with a shit-eating grin on his face that I’d like to wipe off with my fist. Before he can respond, the door swings open and my brothers saunter in. Giovanni and Matteo couldn’t be more different if they tried. Both in looks and personality, but there’s one thing they do well, and that’s kill. Especially assholes like this.
“Sorry we’re late. There was a problem,” Matteo murmurs but offers nothing more. Once they’re seated, the door glides open and I know who it is before she enters. The woman who caught my eye, but she’s Lucio’s. Or was rather. That thought sours my mood as soon as it flits through my mind.
Carrying a silver tray with three tumblers and a bottle of the whisky I asked for, she’s dressed in a demure outfit and a pair of ballet shoes. Even though she’s young, far too young, I can’t help assessing her. My cousin had good taste in women.
Her body is curvy—soft and pliable. Her skin is creamy with a soft blush on her cheeks. I can easily imagine her in my bedroom, on her knees with those doe eyes peering up at me as she begs for me to teach her how to swallow my cock. How I’d love to show her how much of a villain I can be. To mark her creamy skin with the palm of my hand or my belt.
“Brother.” Turning to Gio, I glance at the smirk on his face and shake my head. This is a job. She’s not mine. I shouldn’t be thinking about her in that way. My cousin would’ve had my balls if I went near her.
“Is there anything else?” Her soft-spoken question has me flitting my dark stare on her. She’s watching my intently. Do I remind her of her lost lover? Does she know he’s dead?
“That’s all, thank you,” I respond, my tone firm and commanding. Testing her.
A simple smile crosses her features and she gives me a curt nod. Her hair is golden brown—which hangs in soft waves to the middle of her back—a hint darker than blond. Blue eyes that remind me of the ocean—the translucent sea of Reggio Calabria, of home—pin me with a questioning gaze. It’s as if she’s trying to read me.
My gaze drops to her chest, taking in her ample breasts. Even though they’re not overly visible in the blouse she wears, I know they’d fit perfectly in my hands. It’s enough to taunt me from the soft silk that hides them from my gaze. I wonder if her nipples are sensitive. She’s distracting me from business, which isn’t good, but there’s something about her, as if she wants the danger. Perhaps that was her reasoning behind dating Lucio.
“Let’s get this meeting started. Thank you, Raina, you can leave now,” Andrea grunts out rudely, and she merely nods. The way he treats her angers me. If I had my way, I’d gut the fucker right now. How I’d revel in watching him bleed out.
I grab the tumbler and drain it of the amber liquid, savoring the burn. “There have been two murders in the city. As I’m sure you are aware, we don’t take kindly to people encroaching on our territory. Your name,” I tell him as I pour another three-finger shot, then continue once I lift the tumbler toward my mouth, “has come up a few times.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Moretti, I have heard nothing about this.”
“So you don’t know your father was killed?” My question stills him for a moment, shock clear on his face, and I know he’s hiding something. His eyes, they tell me what I need to know. He’s in on this. I’m not sure how, but I’ll find out.
“I-I got the call this morning,” he stutters, shifting in his seat.
“And you’re not the least bit concerned about who did it?” I take a swallow of my drink, watching him, assessing him, reading every nuance of the lying bastard.
He clears his throat, ready to spew a lie. “Of course I am, I just haven’t had time to take it all in.” I’m surprised he even had the balls to sound like he’s saddened. Unfortunately, his acting abilities aren’t up to par.