Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110103 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
“Santino doesn’t follow my orders, only my dad’s and mom’s. And they won’t order him to give me alone time with guys, trust me.”
Clifford shook his head with a chuckle. “This is so archaic. You realize how awkward it’ll be if I give you your first kiss on our wedding day.”
“That’s still a few years away.”
“More than a few I hope.”
I didn’t want to burst his bubble but I doubted my parents would want to wait until I was thirty for me to marry. It just wasn’t done in our world.
“What makes you think you’ll have more chances to be alone with guys in the next few years?”
“Nothing… then kiss me now if it’s more convenient for you,” I muttered.
A grin spread on Clifford’s face as he considered that, taking me by surprise. “Why not?”
I smiled. If Santino didn’t want to kiss me, I might as well test the waters with my future husband. Nobody could say anything against that, right?
Clifford pushed away from the table and moved in front of me. His unruly hair fell into his eyes and he shoved it back with a charming smile as he leaned down slightly.
Clifford was good-looking in a neighbor-next-door way. Santino was a sexy, angry beast.
“You ready?” Clifford asked as he leaned down more. He cupped my cheek with a grin. I nodded, even as my stomach twisted with nerves.
Clifford’s lips pressed against mine. They were soft, gentle, and his eyes searched mine to see if I was okay with what was happening. It was nice and considerate—and not what I wanted. He deepened the kiss and moved closer, his palm pressing against my cheek and his body leaning over mine.
I tried to get into the kiss. This was my future. I closed my eyes and became more active in the kiss, trying to let loose and not get lost in my thoughts.
The door creaked open. Clifford and I both turned toward the sound. Santino loomed in the doorway, looking murderous. He prowled into the room. Clifford immediately stepped back from me, alarmed. “What—”
Santino grabbed him by the collar, lifted him away from me and shoved him toward the door. Clifford landed on the floor.
“What’s your problem, dude? This isn’t the Wild West.”
Santino sneered at him. One of Clifford’s bodyguards staggered into the room, hand on his gun. When his eyes settled on Clifford and Santino and me afterward, he lowered his hand a few inches. Not taking his eyes off Santino, he helped Clifford to his feet.
“You called?” the bodyguard asked.
Clifford gave me a sheepish smile. I raised my eyebrows. He pulled out a small remote with a red flashing button and clicked on it until it stopped flashing. “My parents forced me to carry this at all times.”
“Because of our bond?”
“Threats to my life,” Clifford said.
I nodded. I had to admit it put me off that he’d called for help the moment Santino had grabbed him. Santino hadn’t even done him bodily harm. Maybe my standards were just warped because I’d been raised around men who were intimately familiar with violence and too proud to call for help.
Santino grabbed my upper arm and dragged me out, but the bodyguard stepped in our way.
“You can’t just leave. You attacked a senator’s son. This needs to be reported.”
Santino released me and stepped up to the other man, bumping chests with him and giving him a death stare. Santino wasn’t a walking wardrobe like that guy, but he was taller, and the look in his eyes even gave me chills.
“This is between the families. No police. No fucking official reports, got it?”
The man guffawed. “You think your gangster intimidation works on me? I don’t care what you want, Al Capone.”
Santino gave him a smile I knew to mean danger. He slammed his fist up into the man’s chin without warning and with such force that the guy toppled backward and landed on the floor with a loud thud. Santino kicked him a few more times for good measure until the guy didn’t stir anymore.
I was frozen. Clifford looked completely paralyzed and as if he might be sick any moment.
“Problem solved,” Santino said simply. “He won’t call the police today.”
“Is he dead?” Clifford pressed out.
Santino gave him a pitying look. “No.” He stepped up to Clifford who stumbled back. Santino obviously enjoyed Clifford’s terror judging from the excited gleam in his eyes. “And you keep your hands and tongue, and especially your dick, to yourself until the wedding night, understood?”
Clifford nodded hastily.
“Santino,” I protested but he stalked toward me, grabbed my upper arm and dragged me away. People turned toward us with open mouths when we hurried toward the front door.
Santino practically pushed me toward the car and rounded the hood toward the driver’s side and got in without a word.
I slipped into the passenger seat.