Her Mafia Bodyguard Read Online J.L. Beck, Cassandra Hallman

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Dark, Mafia, Romance, Taboo, Virgin Tags Authors: ,
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Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 101985 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 510(@200wpm)___ 408(@250wpm)___ 340(@300wpm)
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He’s quiet for a moment, pouring himself a drink, not looking at me. And at that moment, I think, is this it? Is this where he finally realizes the mistake he made sending me to Blackthorn Elite with his only daughter?

“Since you know her so much better than I do,” he murmurs before replacing the bottle of bourbon, “what happens next? I can’t have her blurting out shit like that tonight at dinner, that’s for sure. We have a few hours to get her to come around and agree to behave herself.”

Right, because no matter what, nothing will stop his arrangements. He used the word contract, and that’s not a word that gets thrown around carelessly in our world. Agreements have been made. Expectations have been set. I highly doubt the Rinaldis would be understanding if they found out the bride-to-be got cold feet.

“I’ll go and talk to her,” I suggest. “Maybe I can get her to come back downstairs.”

He snickers, looking at me like he wouldn’t want to be in my shoes for anything. “Didn’t she just say she hates you?”

“She’s said it at least once a day the past four months.” His laughter is like nails on a chalkboard. How can he sound like that? Not only did his daughter find out her father is head of a major crime family, but she then learned he sold her to a stranger. And he can laugh. Now I do wish he had never found her. I hate to think of her struggling, but the alternative is so much worse.

“Go ahead. We have to try something, I guess. Keep in mind, time is of the essence.” I give him a quick nod before leaving the room as quickly as I dare. I don’t want to break out into a full run and look too suspicious.

What am I supposed to say? There’s nothing I can say, and that’s the truth. Nothing she’ll want to hear.

Except for one thing: we have to get out of here.

It’s clear, finally. So obvious, I don’t know why I ever thought differently. There’s no way of getting her out of this except for physically extracting her from the situation. Hiding her. I have money; I can stash her somewhere. Nobody ever needs to know.

Sure, she’ll spend the rest of her life on the run, but what’s the alternative? I shudder to think. There’s no guarantee her husband wouldn’t make every minute of her life agony. And what are the chances of him making her happy? If he was raised by a man anywhere near as calculating as Bruno Morelli, I wouldn’t put money on Eric being a gentleman. Or even giving a shit about Mia beyond how she looks, how tight she is, and how many healthy babies she can give him.

As if I would let that happen. I was the world’s biggest asshole to ever think otherwise.

“Mia.” I bang on the door with the side of my fist—I wouldn’t want anybody overhearing me being quiet or gentle. “Open the door. We need to talk about this.”

I didn’t expect an answer. Everything on the other side of the door is silent. Maybe she’s in the bathroom.

Immediately, my mind goes to a dark, ugly place. She wouldn’t, would she? She’s too smart for that. But if the alternative was being forced into marriage with a stranger—after finding out where her father’s money comes from in the first place? Anything’s possible.

I grab the keys from my pocket and shuffle through them until I find the one for her bedroom door. I’ve never had to use it until now. “Mia, tell me you’re smarter than this,” I mutter as I jam the key into the lock. I throw open the door and go straight for the en suite bathroom, hoping against hope.

It’s empty. I check the shower, even the linen closet. She’s not in here. I let out a shuddering breath, grateful for that at least.

But that doesn’t mean she hasn’t done something else. Something equally drastic.

The first clue that she has is the absence of personal items. The vanity drawer is open and most of its contents are removed. Nothing in the shower, nothing on the sink. I saw her bathroom back at the condo enough to know this isn’t how she does things. She would have immediately spread out and gotten comfortable, especially knowing she had an event to get ready for tonight.

The hair on the back of my neck rises as I step back into her bedroom. The closet door is open, a couple of the dresser drawers. Empty. There’s a pair of socks on the floor, some underwear strewn over the bed.

Like she was in a hurry.

“You wouldn’t,” I whisper, shaking my head, but the evidence is all around me. “Not alone. You wouldn’t do this.”


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