Total pages in book: 139
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135958 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 680(@200wpm)___ 544(@250wpm)___ 453(@300wpm)
“I was. I got called away for a crisis, so that’s why we ended up meeting later, but I was there. I was supposed to stay in our vehicle, watch it all go down, but when I saw you fighting…” He tensed. His voice dropped. “There was no one else I wanted touching you. I didn’t want you hurt.”
The shadow. Someone had been coming from the side, and fast.
“That was you? You put me out?”
“Yeah.” Regret tinged his voice. He squeezed my hand. “I didn’t want to hurt you, but I needed you, and I didn’t want anyone else hurting you, or even touching you. That was me.”
“Brooke said she stopped asking for updates on me after I went into the 411. She said you were the one who kept watching me, not for her.”
His arms tightened, hugging me before relaxing again. “Yeah. You, you affected me the day we came to tell Brooke about Cord. I saw something in you as you held her when we drove up. It was the same the day we kidnapped you. There was such fight in you. It amazed me. I had seen so many wither in this lifestyle, crumble from the weight—and I’m not just talking mafia. I’m talking heartache in general. I knew your past. We’d researched you because of your dad’s connection to us. That’s why you were put with Brooke. My dad did that. If Bruce Bello did something out of line, he could threaten his little girl’s life.
“After a while I realized how much your dad didn’t give a shit about you, and that pissed me off. Parents are supposed to love and protect their kids. Your dad didn’t do that. Maybe I felt like you were already a part of us, just knowing that about you. Most other mafia families love their kids like anyone else does. Some don’t, but some do. It’s a shit part of life, but that’s how it is. Some get unlucky with parents like I did, and you did.
“Anyway, I don’t know what I was expecting when we drove up that day. Nothing, I guess. Just thought you’d be like all the other girls Brooke befriended, but you weren’t. There was a sadness in you, but there was more. So much more. Fight. Survival. A fuck-you look that I knew you gave to everyone, even if you didn’t know it. Hell, it might’ve been why your mom shipped you off. She knew you’d give it to your dad one day, and she couldn’t protect you against him.”
I shook my head, amazed. “I hated you after that day.”
He laughed again, a deep baritone coming from his chest. “I know. That made me like you even more. I liked that you weren’t scared of us. When you gave me that ‘fuck you’ look, I was proud. I thought, Good. Finally someone who’s strong enough to help Brooke. I knew you’d be there for her after that, no matter what, even if my sister didn’t deserve it.”
He shifted, sitting up as I rolled to my back. He loomed over me, tucking his elbow on the bed and resting his head on his hand. He met my gaze before trailing down to my lips. He traced a line with his finger over my lips, my chin, my throat, and between my breasts, encircling one of them, cupping it and running over my nipple. His eyes darkened. Dipping his head, I closed my eyes as he pushed up my hospital gown. I felt his mouth cover me there. His tongue circled my nipple, right where his thumb had been, and as he kept kissing me, his hand smoothed down my stomach.
My body warmed, reacting to his touch. He pushed some of the pain aside.
“God, Riley.” He raised his head again, meeting my eyes. “I love you. I think a part of me actually fell in love with you on the steps of your school. Another part fell when I saw you fighting my brother and our guards. And I kept falling for you every time you resisted me, until I was gone. I was completely in love with you when you fought me in the elevator.” He grinned. “Stop fucking fighting. You remember that?”
I did, and I might’ve laughed at the memory, but I ached.
I wanted his touch. I didn’t know how I was even feeling anything because of the drugs, but his touch was healing. I just wanted more of him, as if he could still make it all right again.
That was wishful thinking, or wishful feeling.
Tears blinded me, and I gasped. “Kai.”
He cursed under his breath, moving to hold me. Curling around me, spooning me, he pressed a kiss to my nape.
I reached for his hand on my waist, feeling…feeling… I felt the beginning of something right. I didn’t want that to go away.