Total pages in book: 120
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113464 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 567(@200wpm)___ 454(@250wpm)___ 378(@300wpm)
Bianca. You have no idea how much more difficult you’ve made my life.
A sharp knock at the closed door is the equivalent to pouring a bucket of cold water over my head.
I clear my throat, sitting up straighter before calling out, “Come in.”
The door opens, and Romero walks in, his steps heavy. His face is masked, cold. A mask worn as armor, I suppose. He has a habit of letting no one see too deep inside, even if parts of his mask are cracked and chipped.
“I assume everything is in place for the meeting?” I ask, chastising myself for letting my thoughts roam yet again. I cannot afford to fuck this up. There’s far too much time and money invested in this. My head needs to be clear. I need to be conscious and alert, not dreaming about fucking someone completely out of my reach.
“I sent the link to the parties involved, and everyone has copies of the contract.”
“Excellent,” I praise, though I’m hardly surprised. If there’s one person I can count on, it’s my most trusted second-in-command. I’ve known Romero since he was a little boy. His mother begged me to take him under my wing, and he’s been by my side ever since. There are few men I trust with my shit and even fewer with my daughter. He’s proven himself to be a valuable asset.
Which, of course, reminds me. He’s had a special assignment as of late. “Do you have any information to share?”
If he finds anything strange about me ordering him to keep tabs on Bianca, he shows no sign of it. I’m sure after working together for so many years, he’s learned to expect the unexpected.
He presses down into the leather chair across from my desk and unbuttons his suit jacket, settling in. “She’s moving. I’m not sure where, but she spent the day taking boxes up to her apartment and then loading them into her car.”
“She’s moving?” I tap my jaw with my finger.
“Yes. She broke up with her boyfriend the other night at the club. They were talking about it when I took them back to her place, and when I say talking, I use the term loosely. It was more Tatum telling her she deserved better, that the guy was a twat for cheating on her, and that it wasn’t her fault. Bianca started crying, and it got worse from there.”
A sudden flash of white-hot rage threatens to consume me before I get a hold of it. What a stupid bastard. Someone that dismissive of the perfection he was so fortunate to partake in doesn’t deserve her. He tossed a diamond in the garbage for a piece of trash. I want to beat the hell out of the fucker, but there’s no point. His punishment is losing her and watching her find happiness elsewhere. With me.
Suddenly, my thoughts go to a very bad place. No. This means nothing. It doesn’t affect me in the slightest, yet the barrier crumbling before me is at the forefront of my mind. I lift the water glass to my lips to combat the sudden dryness in my mouth.
“Are you certain she’s moving?” I can’t afford to give away the depth of my interest—it’s a good thing I’m practiced in the art of concealing my true thoughts, even from my closest confidants.
“From the amount of boxes she had, yes. Either that, or she is doing some serious decluttering, but I doubt it. When I dropped them off, she had me go up to make sure the place was clear before she went inside, and there wasn’t a lot there. I sent Mark over to change out the locks in case her ex comes back.”
Good. This strange, unexpected need to protect her presses against my temples. It’s not the normal type of protection. There is nothing fatherly about my thoughts toward Bianca. Indecent, tempting, and possessive are more like it. I want to protect her from anyone and everything but myself.
“Okay, so we have no concrete idea on where she’s moving. Has Tatum said anything?”
“Nope, but I’ll continue surveillance.”
I shake my head, waving a hand. “Don’t worry about it,” I assure him, even if I’m really worried about it. There’s this incessant need to know everything barreling at the back of my mind. Where is she going? Is she safe? What can she possibly hope to afford straight out of college? Is she going to move back in with her father? The thought of that man makes me grit my teeth. It’s none of my business, and logically, I shouldn’t give a fuck, but I do.
Romero’s features give nothing away. “Should I be concerned? I can send one of the other guys over for surveillance if you’d prefer I don’t do it.”
As usual, his instincts are sharp, even if he’s misread my concerns. “There isn’t any concern right now, but if that changes, I’ll let you know.”