Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 115400 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 577(@200wpm)___ 462(@250wpm)___ 385(@300wpm)
Getting out of the shower, I dry off and dress for another long day. It’s almost seven in the morning, and I’m sure my employees are wondering what the fuck is going on with the half-naked woman I stormed through the door with only a few short hours ago. They need to know what’s going on and what I expect of them where my new prize is concerned, and by the time I’ve finished filling them in, Sergiu should be in my office with an update on the raid downtown and a folder filled with every detail of Chiara Matthews’ life.
As I finish buttoning my suit shirt and roll up my sleeves, I take my phone and call down to the kitchen. Putting the call on speakerphone, I wait all of three seconds before my head chef, Krista, accepts the call. “Mr. DeLorenzo, what can I help you with?”
“Call for a full staff meeting in the dining room. I’ll be down in ten minutes.”
“Of course, Sir. And for breakfast?”
“No breakfast this morning. Just a coffee will be fine.”
“Coming right up.”
I end the call and finish getting myself ready for the day, dreading the long hours ahead before I finally get to crash, but unfortunately, a lack of sleep is simply a hazard of the job.
Making my way out of my bedroom, I pass the closed door that my latest mystery soundlessly sleeps behind, and considering the sedatives that were slipped into the glass of water on her bedside table, she should sleep for most of the day, assuming she was brave enough to drink it, of course.
Either way, I’ve offered her the privacy of a closed door in a luxurious bedroom with a private bathroom, and that’s far more than she would have received in Ezekiel’s warehouse. She should be quite happy here, and if she’s not . . . then that’s not my problem. She will have to figure out a way to find happiness here, otherwise, she will lead a very dull and lonely life.
Ignoring the lure of her creamy thighs, I head down the stairs and detour past the kitchen before scooping up my steaming coffee off the edge of the counter.
Krista has worked as my personal chef for a little over twelve years now—after I found her in a similar situation to Chiara. She was too young, and there was never an attraction there for me, so instead of offering her my bed, I gave her my kitchen and she flourished there, and now, I can’t imagine having anyone else working my kitchen. She’s got it down to a fine art, and I fear the day she decides to move on. Don’t get me wrong, she is free. I don’t hold her to the same bounds as I do my new prize. Krista is an employee and can walk away at any point, just like the rest of my staff, and despite knowing exactly who I am and what I’m capable of, she sticks around, not out of fear, but out of loyalty.
Lifting my coffee to my lips, I take a quick sip before letting out a heavy breath and striding through my home. I make my way into the formal dining room and find my staff waiting for me, all but a few of my main security team who would have stayed at their posts, patrolling my property for potential threats. I take my security very seriously and have the best of the best. My security detail is made up of ex-military special ops members, former champion MMA fighters, and the kind of men you wouldn’t want to run into in a back alley. They make a deadly team, and yet not one of them is more deadly than me.
Moving around the dining table, I survey my staff, watching how they all straighten and offer me every bit of their attention as I snake my way to the head of the table.
Everyone is here. My housekeeper. Rohan, my doorman. My personal butler. The maids and the groundskeepers. They all remain standing, knowing they all have duties to attend to and that I don’t usually waste any time.
“Some of you may have noticed that we currently have a woman occupying the private suite on the second floor,” I start as I settle at the top of the table, not bothering to take a seat. “She is my guest and is to be treated with the utmost respect, just as you would anyone else who steps foot inside my home. Not a single hand is to be laid on her, or any wandering eyes feasting upon her beauty. She has already been through enough, and I wish for her to find comfort within my home.”
My gaze subtly meets Krista’s across the formal dining table, and when her lips press into a hard line and her gaze fills with pity, I know she understands exactly what kind of life I have stolen this woman from. And let’s be clear when I say stolen, Krista knows exactly what that means. After all, I stole her just as I did Chiara, and hopefully as she begins to find solace in my home, she will be able to connect with Krista and the two of them can heal together, or in the least, offer the other some kind of friendship.