Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77295 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“That’s sad. So, you don’t speak to your half brother at all?”
“Up until this past week, almost never. But we’re starting to talk again.”
“That’s good. What changed?”
He cut into his steak again, taking his time as he stalled for an answer. “I’ve got some big enemies on my back, and he got worried.”
“Jerome said you were in human trafficking.”
“I sell organs and perform transplants on the black market.”
That was some serious criminal activity.
He addressed my silence. “People will get on the waiting list for a transplant, but those lists are long, and compatible organs are scarce. Recipients can get what they need quicker, and donors can make serious money for their families.”
“People do that?” I asked in surprise.
He gave a nod. “Mainly people from impoverished countries. In order to give their family a better life and a visa to move to a more developed country, they’ll make the sacrifice. Their family will move to Western Europe with enough money to start a new life.”
Speechless, I just sat there.
“Sometimes, men will pay me to capture their enemy and harvest their organs as vengeance for something they’ve done. Just a couple weeks ago, I captured the wrong man, and now that man’s family wants me dead.”
My clients were always dangerous men, but they were arms dealers or drug dealers, something along those lines. First time I’d met someone in this field. “How did you get into this line of work?”
“Family business.”
“So, your brother works with you?”
“He does his own thing. Diamonds.”
We sat in silence after that, eating our dinner while thinking about what the other had said. He ate his entire steak as well as the mashed potatoes and greens on the side, washing it all down with the red wine he ordered. For a man his size, he’d probably eat another steak before bed.
When the bill came, he slipped his card inside the folder and immediately handed it right back.
“You have a place here in the city?”
“Yes. As well as other places.”
“Such as?”
“The countryside. Tuscany. London. New York.”
“You travel a lot for work?”
“No. Just have a lot of money.” He swirled his glass before he finished it off, a tiny pool of red at the very bottom.
The tab was returned, and he left a fat tip even though tips weren’t expected.
“Come to my apartment.” He slipped his wallet inside his coat pocket.
“Yeah?”
“We only have a month. Don’t want to waste it.” He left the chair then extended his hand to me.
I took it, my fingers delicate in his enormous palm. His test results had come in earlier in the day, so I didn’t hesitate. He guided me out of the restaurant, and the second he was at the curb, a black car appeared to chauffeur him away. He opened the back door for me, treating me like a lady rather than what I really was, and then joined me in the back.
The car ride to his apartment was spent in complete silence. He looked ahead or out the window, perfectly calm and contained. Sometimes when men were about to get laid, they were twitchy, constantly changing their position because they were restless. But he was utterly stoic.
We pulled into a private parking garage of a building on the corner and then took the elevator to the foyer. The apartment was prepared for our arrival, two glasses of wine on the counter along with a board of various cheeses and cured meats. The lights were dimmed, giving a romantic glow to an unromantic evening.
He took off his jacket and tossed it over the back of one of the couches, showing his muscled mass in his long-sleeved shirt. He headed down the hallway and into an open doorway, probably his bedroom.
Wouldn’t let the wine go to waste, so I downed it in a single go then followed him inside.
He’d already started without me.
Shirt was on the floor. His slacks were too. His thick mass was on display, bulging arms and strong pecs underneath beautiful skin. His boxer briefs were tight on his muscled thighs, all the different muscles indicated by the shadow that separated each one of them. He slowly walked up to me, towering over me despite the height of my pumps. He looked down at me, his dark eyes shifting back and forth between mine. “On your knees.”
A jolt of heat flushed through me at his command. That’s exactly what it was. A command. Not a request. Not a suggestion. But an order with life-and-death consequences. I hesitated before I lowered myself to my knees, my dress rising over my hips until it bunched around my waist. His eyes watched me all the way, watched me dig my fingers until the waistband of his bottoms and tug them down.
Just like every other part of his body, he was enormous.
He studied my face like he wanted my reaction, just like every other man wanted my reaction when I saw his dick. But it meant nothing to me at this point. Just another job.