Total pages in book: 106
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 541(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
I saw the way their eyes flickered with recognition before glancing to me and only me.
Because I knew everything, and they knew that.
There were no secrets to me, nothing hidden.
I was a Nicolasi now.
I owned secrets.
Traded in them.
And I would have the answers.
Dante was playing with one of his many knives while El was smiling a smile I knew was fake all the way down to her toes.
“Headed back?” I asked without looking up.
“In a few. Some of the guys decided to have a glass of whiskey while they plotted world domination…”
“Too bad I’ve already dominated, then, huh?” I joked while El sat on the stool in front of me, followed by Dante on my right. I sighed heavily. “You don’t need to ask.”
“Figured.” Dante shook his head. “I feel like I’m betraying someone here. I feel like you know that too, so just tell us how we’re playing this because that woman should not have walked out of here alive.”
I squeezed my eyes shut and sighed. When would it end? This, this was why I liked war. War I could predict. But peace? Peace felt a hell of a lot more chaotic in my dark soul.
“You would be correct.” I lowered my voice “Andrei’s our friend, that’s all you need to know. He swore a blood oath of fealty to us, and us to him. He has his reasons, just like we have our reasons for keeping secrets.”
El put her hand on my knee. “She’s a year younger than Andrei.”
“Yeah.” I licked my lips, tasting lingering wine there. “We see how this plays out.” I stood, “And you say nothing. We trust Andrei to do his job, all right? If he has her there, if he’s pretending she’s his whore then there’s a fucking good reason for it.”
Dante snorted in disgust. “Pretending? The guy’s probably already had her—”
“Doubtful,” I interrupted.
Dante’s eyes flickered to my face. “How could you possibly know that?”
“Because,” I whispered. “Andrei’s a virgin.”
I left both of them gaping at me and smiled to myself as I left the house and walked to my waiting Maybach.
I smiled wider when I got in and the engine roared to life.
Andrei was in for a hell of a surprise if he thought he could just announce something like that to the family and make us believe it.
I knew him in and out because I kept him in check.
And I knew that if he brought her around they’d get suspicious of why he wasn’t touching her.
Something that he clearly hadn’t thought about when he was trying to throw everyone off her scent by being his usual crass self.
It was a mistake on his part.
And Andrei Petrov did not make mistakes.
I snorted out a laugh as I imagined a world where Andrei understood that while painful, physical touch also has the power to heal, and I wondered if there was another woman in this life, like my wife, who had the patience to teach him just that.
“Good luck, crazy bastard, good fucking luck,” I whispered into the air as the gates opened and I slammed the accelerator.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Andrei
For the first time in my life, I panicked.
How had I not looked past the title of girlfriend and given her a job? Hell, bartender would have even been better than whore.
But with the way she looked in that dress.
With the reputation I tended to like an obsessive-compulsive freak.
They wouldn’t believe I’d taken a bartender to dinner, would they? Or a waitress. No, I was too dirty. Too far gone. I would bring a whore to a family dinner in front of their children.
I, Andrei Petrov, would do that, because I laughed at their silly Italian code, because I didn’t care about love or family or any of the things they found necessary for survival.
But her face.
Fuck, her face killed me.
And then she’d asked for more wine, and I had the most intense need to either laugh or kiss her senseless for being brave when she needed to be, despite being angry and hurt, despite wanting to strangle me with the napkin on her lap.
And I didn’t make a habit of kissing women when I could avoid it.
They were always disappointed I didn’t do more.
Disappointed that I didn’t follow up the kiss with my mouth everywhere else, with our bodies moving in sync.
When I kissed a woman it was for a reason.
Not for a want.
Or a damn need.
We were driving back to the club when my phone rang, I wasn’t surprised it was Phoenix, he knew me better than most. I was, however, surprised he was calling so soon.
Six thirty-two had scooted all the way across the leather seat and was staring out the window like a shooting star would solve her problems.
How she was able to even sit there with her head held high was beyond me. How she kept that look of wonder in her eyes.