Cruel Tyrant Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Suspense Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 83776 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 419(@200wpm)___ 335(@250wpm)___ 279(@300wpm)
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Just about the last person I ever expect is standing on my stoop. Laura glares at me like she’s about to yank a knife out from under her all-black ensemble and stab me to death in my own foyer. She’s in a knee-length skirt, chunky black boots, and a tight black top with her hair styled down around her shoulders, sort of like a goth that got into all-natural medicine. I’m struck by how pretty she is—most of the time, Laura’s busy giving me death looks and threatening me, which really distracts from her good looks.

“Uh, hey,” I say, feeling completely off balance. “Davide’s not here.”

“There’s some fucking girl asking for you at the end of the block. I’m pretty sure Matty’s about to break her neck because she’s straight up throwing a fit.”

My eyes go wide and I shake my head, totally at a loss. “A girl’s asking for me? I have no clue who you’re talking about.”

Laura rolls her eyes like I am the dumbest piece of shit on the entire planet. “Follow me before someone gets killed.”

I look back over my shoulder, but I don’t have anything better to do. This feels like some kind of trap, like Laura’s going to lead me into her weirdo torture chamber and cut off all my toes and make me eat them, but I’m also kind of curious to find out what she’s talking about.

Once I’m outside, I spot the commotion all the way at the far end of the block. There are about six Bianco enforcers standing around in a tight circle, and I’m guessing there’s some girl in the middle of them, but I can’t see who it is yet.

“Can I ask you something?” I say to Laura as we hurry toward the men.

“I’d prefer it if you didn’t.”

Well, that’s not a no. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I already told you that. I guess you’re deaf now? Or your memory is broken?”

I take a breath to keep myself calm. “I understand you don’t trust me, but seriously, what is it about me that’s such an issue?”

Laura stops mid-stride. We’re still a good distance from the crowd as she turns on me, hands on her hips, blocking my view of whatever’s happening up ahead.

“Davide’s important to me.” She jabs a finger into my chest. “And you are still a stranger.”

“I’m trying my best here,” I say softly, hoping that she can understand how I’m in a terrible position too, just as bad as her brother, if not worse. “This isn’t my home. You aren’t my family. I’m barely keeping my head above water, and I really don’t get what I did to make you despise me so much.”

For a second, Laura’s expression softens. There’s a glimmer of something in her eyes, a recognition maybe, like she’s suddenly seeing me as an actual person instead of a phantom monster. But she quickly shuts that shit down and whirls on her heel.

“How about you focus on fixing whatever this stupid mess is and don’t worry about me, okay?” She marches off and I have to hurry to keep up.

As we approach, Matty breaks away from the group of enforcers and comes over, looking like he wants to dropkick me off a roof. “You better start explaining,” he demands. I’ve never seen him like this before. Normally, the young guard is all smiles and jokes, but this is his dark side and it’s actually kind of scary. Laura inserts herself between me and him and puts a hand on his chest.

“Don’t forget who you’re talking to,” she says.

Which is a freaking miracle, because I think she’s defending me right now.

Matty visibly composes himself. He rolls his neck and cracks a couple knuckles, and I take a step back to give him some space. Then he tries again.

“Some girl showed up looking for you ten minutes ago. She won’t say who she is or where she came from, but she keeps on asking for you. She keeps saying, and I quote, ‘If you hurt my best friend, I am going to stomp on all of your balls until you sing like fucking choir boys.’”

My eyes go wide and my heart skips a beat. No, there’s no way, but I recognize the cadence he just copied and that threat sounds extremely familiar, but it’s impossible. I push past my sister-in-law, skirt around Matty, and throw myself into the middle of the group.

Giorgia’s sitting on a stoop, her back straight, her arms crossed over her chest. Her face is bright red and her hair’s a mess like she’s been shouting her head off, which is totally possible. She’s wearing yoga pants, a gray t-shirt, a leather jacket, and she’s carrying a big black travel bag.

“Giorgia?” I say, because I’m still not sure it’s actually her.


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