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)
It would’ve been fine had it been any other woman but Bianca. She’s different. I know I shouldn’t want her. I know we shouldn’t continue what happened that night and that pushing her away was the right thing. She probably thinks the worst of me, and I don’t blame her. Logically, I’m old enough and wise enough to know better, but I don’t care. I just don’t fucking care.
I didn’t regret a single thing we did. But that didn’t mean it was right. I’m not stupid, though. I know no matter how much I push her away, no matter what I do, she will inevitably become mine.
“The funds have been wired, and I have confirmation from the seller. The planes are yours and thank fuck. We’re already getting questions from the suppliers out in Miami. They need to offload their latest shipment.”
Leaning back in my chair, I swirl the scotch around in my glass and release a satisfied smile. “Good. We’ll send Carlo and Tony down there to inspect the shipment.”
Romero quirks an eyebrow, looking up at me from his tablet. “You think they’ll be okay with that? I’m normally the one who goes.”
“I have other work for you to do. Carlo and Tony know what to look out for.”
Romero appears suspicious. “What type of work?”
“I’m still ironing out the details.” I trust Romero with my life. We’ve been through hell and back together, but his question sets my teeth on edge. “Since when do you question me?”
“It’s not about questioning you. You know I like to be prepared.”
Of course, I know that. He didn’t mean anything. There’s no reason for my skin to feel uncomfortable. My feelings right now have nothing to do with him. No, this has to do with something else entirely. I’m an addict who promised himself he’d go cold turkey because it seemed easy at the time. My addiction? Bianca and everything about her, the taste of her pussy being at the top of the list.
A normal man might be able to deal with it. Not me. I’m on edge, and I have access to too many guns for this to end without somebody taking a bullet for looking at me the wrong way.
“I’ll fill you in when the time comes.” I don’t bother apologizing, and he knows better than to expect it. “For now, get the boys up to speed on the details about Miami.”
He nods and, thankfully, doesn’t question me further. It’s been torture, wanting more than anything to make it up to her while forcing myself to steer clear at the same time. The wounded expression she wore before running from the office still haunts me. I’m a fucking asshole. I scrub a hand down my face, my frustrations mounting. I have more important shit to be worried about, an entire fucking company to run. Putting distance between us is the right thing, but somehow, it feels like torture.
Romero returns to his task list, murmuring to himself as he makes notes and delegates duties while I turn my attention to the security feed playing across my laptop screen. I’m setting myself up for failure by watching like an obsessed stalker for her to return home.
She usually parks her beat-up Corolla in the front courtyard, but it’s been gone since this morning. Where does she go? From what I remember, her job doesn’t start for another few days.
Irrational rage eats at my insides. She’d better not be disappearing to escape a run-in with me or worse, to be with another man.
Could you blame her if she did?
My hand closes around my glass hard enough that my joints ache, and the pain forces me to take a breath. A man in my position can’t afford to fall apart, not even over a pussy whose taste and aroma have claimed ownership of my soul.
It’s her soul I’m fighting for now. She doesn’t need my darkness destroying her light. Every degrading thing I’ll have no choice but to do to her once I’ve started. There will be no going back once I’ve claimed her fully. I won’t be able to stop myself.
Leave her alone. Do the right thing for once.
No matter how I fight to keep it together, my chest tightens at the sweeping of headlights over the dark courtyard. She’s home, and t feels like I can breathe again. Pathetic. I never felt this pull with my ex-wife or any of the nameless women I’ve fucked before now, so I’m out of my element here.
Bianca’s turning me into something I hardly recognize, my heart thumping against my ribs all because a car’s pulling up to the house. At least Romero doesn’t notice—yet, that is. I keep it up, and it won’t take long.
As I watch, she parks the car, then sits behind the wheel for a minute. If I were a betting man, I’d say she’s afraid to get out.