Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 474(@200wpm)___ 379(@250wpm)___ 316(@300wpm)
“Mmm?”
The charcoal sails over his strong back and I lean in a little closer, concentrating as I give definition to the girl’s cheekbones, contouring the shit out of them. “What’s your name?”
He glances back at me, barely lifting his head. “My name?” he questions, a strange hesitance in his tone. “It’s Cross.”
“No, I mean your real name,” I say, not meeting his eyes. I don’t want to seem like I’m prying for information, when I’m just wanting to have a casual conversation and know more about the man whose ass is fantastically close to my face. “I figured Cross was a nickname.”
There’s a strained silence before he gives a short nod. “It is,” he murmurs. “My name is Easton. Easton Cross.”
“Easton,” I whisper, liking it so much more than I have the right to. It somehow feels so right on my lips. “Is it going to cause problems if I call you that, or do you prefer Cross?”
He waits a moment before letting that deep, raspy tone fly free. “You can call me Easton.”
A strange flutter causes havoc deep in my stomach and I try to push it away, not wanting to make a big deal out of this. Yet, I can’t help but feel as though we just made some kind of progress, and not just the happy to smile at one another in passing kind of progress, but the I want to crush my lips to his and see if he can make me weak kind of progress.
There’s just something about this guy. He’s so mysterious and quiet, yet broody and terrifying. But there’s a softer side, something I don’t think he often shows. Something I think he might be afraid of. It intrigues me, and I find myself drawn to him. It’s almost as though I want to trust him. I want to believe that he’ll always protect me.
“Can you tell me more about Empire?” I question, realizing this girl on his back is starting to resemble me.
“What do you want to know?”
I shrug my shoulders, having no idea where to start. “How does it work? Is there a boss or does it just run on a trust system?”
Sawyer scoffs, and I glance up at him, not realizing he was listening. “We might be a powerful organization, but there’s no trust. Those motherfuckers will turn on you in a second if it means getting a step up in the world. If we didn’t have such high standards when it comes to following traditions, we never would have made it this far.”
“So how do you enforce it then?” I question, glazing over the woman’s eyes on Easton’s back and realizing it needs something more, something darker to match his vibe. “How do you make sure everyone stays in line?”
“It’s similar to how a big company works,” Dalton explains. “We have our board of directors who oversee all the day-to-day bullshit and enforce our rules and values. They’re known as The Circle, twelve scary as fuck bastards. And then we have our leader who has the power to overrule, the one who The Circle goes to when they can’t come to a decision. He’s the big fucking boss.”
“Well shit, how’d he get that gig?”
“Pretty simple, actually,” Easton mutters, his gaze on Zade across the rooftop. “He was born with the right DNA.”
“Oh, so it’s an heir type of situation then, passed from father to son?”
“Exactly right,” Easton says.
“No women?”
A grin pulls across Sawyer’s lips, and his eyes sparkle with silent laughter. “Now what kind of misogynic organization would we be if we allowed women to enter our ranks? Haven’t you heard? If your woman isn’t in the kitchen or cleaning up after you, she should be in your bed with either her legs spread or her ass in the air.”
My lips press into a tight line as disgust pulses heavily through my veins. “They don’t really think that, do they?”
“A lot of them do, yeah,” Sawyer says. “These are men in power we’re talking about. They’re all the fucking same. They want the world to kneel at their feet.”
“Ugh, gross,” I grumble. “So who’s this big-time leader of yours?”
Something hardens in Easton’s eyes as he continues watching Zade. “Up until three weeks ago,” he mutters, “his father.”
My eyes widen and my head whips back to glance at Zade, a strange type of understanding flourishing through me. That really explains a lot about why he is the way he is. It probably couldn’t have been easy being raised by the type of man who would lead an organization like that. The pressure he must have felt growing up, the need to be the biggest, the best, the fastest. “What do you mean, ‘up until three weeks ago’?” I ask, knowing damn well I’m toeing the line and at any moment they could pull the rug out from below me and clamp up like a steel trap. “What happened?”