Total pages in book: 44
Estimated words: 41558 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 41558 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 208(@200wpm)___ 166(@250wpm)___ 139(@300wpm)
I could live with the fact that he’d killed for me. He’d given up everything he’d ever known for me. I would give him all of myself in return.
He frowned and traced the line of my jaw, which was clenched with determination. “If that Russian bastard comes back for you, I will end him.”
“I’m not worried about Niko,” I replied honestly. He’d spared us, and I believed him when he said he wasn’t interested in forcing himself on me. The handsome billionaire might be involved with the Bratva, but it seemed he had his own moral code. I’d seen him stand up to his father before. If he told Mikhail that Max had eliminated the most important members of the Ferrara family, they would have no reason to come after us.
But there was something that I couldn’t live with. Max had tried to blackmail my father to use the power of the mayor’s office to help the Mafia. He’d rescinded that threat, but Daddy was still under the Bratva’s thumb. The Russians were running their criminal organization in New York, and my father was helping them.
“I can’t bear the thought that the mayor’s office is acting under the influence of the Bratva,” I admitted. “I hate that my father is complicit.”
Max took my hand in his. “I can’t fix that for you, Bambi. I’m sorry.”
I brushed a kiss over his lips. “But I think I can. Will you help me?”
“I would do anything for you, Allie. I love you.”
I’d never tire of hearing those words. We could face anything together. We might not be able to stop the Bratva, but we could put an end to my father’s corruption, once and for all.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” I asked Max, glancing at his chest. His black t-shirt covered the bandages over his bullet wound, hiding the fact that he was injured. If I hadn’t seen him bleeding only yesterday, I wouldn’t suspect that he’d been shot.
He rolled his eyes at me. “I’m not letting you do this alone. Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Okay, but you’re staying in bed for a week once we’re finished with this.”
He shot me a crooked grin that made my belly flip. “Only if you promise to stay in bed with me.”
“Don’t flirt with me right now,” I admonished, but a silly smile stretched my lips. “This is serious.”
“I’m always serious about flirting with you, Bambi.”
I lightly slapped his arm. “I know what you’re doing.”
His brow lifted. “And what’s that?”
I went up onto my tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his jaw. “You’re trying to distract me. I know this will be hard, but I’m ready.”
He laced his fingers through mine. “Let’s do it, then.”
I squeezed his hand, conveying my gratitude for his support. We hailed a cab, and I gave the driver my father’s address. Max never broke contact with me for the duration of the drive, his hands brushing my knuckles, my cheek, my hair. By the time we arrived at my childhood home, he’d managed to keep the worst of my jitters at bay.
We pulled up to the iron gate, and a guard waved us through when he saw my face. Daddy would probably panic when he realized I’d brought Max Ferrara past his security, but it would work in my favor if he was a little scared.
My stomach twisted. I hated this rift between us, hated his lies that’d slowly crushed me over the last several weeks.
I took a breath and stepped out of the cab, keeping my head high as Max wrapped his strong arm around my shoulders. I was done with doubts and tears. I was done feeling weak and helpless. Only yesterday, I’d held a gun on Nikolai Ivanov, the heir to the Bratva in New York. If I could stand my ground then, I could face my father now.
I walked through the familiar halls, my hand a vise around Max’s.
“Daddy?” I called out, heading in the direction of his home office. My voice was too high, like I was ten years old again. I cleared my throat and braced myself.
“Sweetheart?” he called back, confirming his location.
I quickened my pace, ready to get this over with. We burst into his office just as he was about to walk toward the door. He caught one look at Max’s ferocious scowl and dropped back into his chair, face pale.
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out. After a few heartbeats of tense silence, he managed to croak, “Get out of our house, or I’ll call the police.”
Max scoffed. “The police? Or your Russian friends who came to kill me last night?”
His cheeks flushed a dangerous shade of red. “Get away from my daughter!” he barked, rage giving him the strength to surge to his feet.