Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77824 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 389(@200wpm)___ 311(@250wpm)___ 259(@300wpm)
His touch has tingles racing over me, and I move my hands to the sides of his jaw. Our lips knead, and our tongues taste, creating so much friction I’m not sure I can remember my name right now.
His hand moves up, and when his fingers brush over the surgery scar, he pulls away as if I just burned him.
It happens so fast. One second he’s devouring me, and the next, he gets up and stalks away.
I’m left lying on the balcony floor, blinking like an idiot.
What the hell was that?
I’m not talking about him walking away. I’m referring to the way I returned his kiss. The way I freaking loved it.
Holy shit. No.
Renzo is a killer. A criminal. A freaking mafia boss.
He kidnapped me and hurt Dad.
He killed Dr. Bentall.
Pressing my hand to my stomach, I suck in desperate breaths.
Renzo is your enemy. Never forget that. You’re just making him care, so he’ll let you go. This is all part of the plan.
Feeling calmer, I get up off the floor and head inside. I shut the sliding door, and when I walk past the living room, I find Renzo taking a sip of whiskey.
I stop and stare at the man who just kissed the ever-loving hell out of me. My eyes glide over his muscular body, the impeccable three-piece suit, and his ruffled hair, which normally doesn’t have a hair out of place.
His features are drawn tight, and the air around him feels tense.
Renzo’s eyes flick to me, and I consider running to the safety of my bedroom.
That would defeat the purpose. Stay right where you are.
His gaze remains locked on me as he takes a sip of his drink, the sight hot and a little unnerving.
Damn, the man is heartbreakingly attractive.
And he just kissed me.
Stick to the plan. It doesn’t matter how hot he is.
He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing on me as if he knows I’m up to something.
I take a step forward and gesturing in the direction of the dining room, I say, “Thanks for that.” Realizing it sounds like I’m thanking him for the kiss, I quickly add, “For saving me even though I wasn’t planning to jump.”
His voice is low and deep when he murmurs, “Twenty-seven yellow cabs?”
I shrug and take another step closer to him. “There’s not a lot for me to do here. I was just passing the time.”
When I take another step, the corner of his mouth lifts as if he’s amused. “What are you doing, topolina?”
I shake my head and feign innocence. “What do you mean?”
He takes another sip of his drink, just staring at me as I slowly inch closer as if I’m approaching a wild animal.
My stomach is a ball of nerves, but I don’t stop until I’m standing right in front of him.
I suck at flirting, but here goes nothing.
Reaching for the glass in his hand, I take it from him and help myself to a sip before handing it back. I need the alcohol to be brave.
Giving the man my best provocative expression, I say, “You kissed me.”
He’s still watching me with amusement as he murmurs, “I did.”
Lifting a hand, I run a finger over the buttons of his vest. “Want to continue what you started?”
Suddenly, laughter bursts from him, and he sets the tumbler down before shoving his hands into the pockets of his pants.
“I’m curious to see how far you’ll take this,” he says as he looks at me again.
Crap. He’s not falling for the act.
Changing tactics, I let out a sigh, and crossing my arms over my chest, I force myself to think of Dad and the state he was in so the memory will bring tears to my eyes.
With my chin trembling, I say, “Can you blame me, Renzo? I’m lonely. Is it so hard to believe I crave human interaction?”
The amusement vanishes from his face, and his breathing actually speeds up.
Did the threatening tears actually work?
He stares at me for a moment, then whispers, “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
It is?
“I’m sure I’ve said it before.”
He shakes his head. “No, you haven’t.”
I take in his strong reaction to hearing his name and wonder why it matters.
“Renzo,” I say it again. “Renzo Torrisi.”
His expression grows serious, and his eyes sharpen on me. “That’s enough mind games for one night.”
Lifting my chin, I say, “I’m not playing mind games.” When he walks past me, I hurry to add, “I’m stuck here forever. The least you can do is let me get to know you better.”
He stops walking, and standing with his back to me, he asks, “What do you want to know?”
“Anything.”
“I’m thirty-five, can’t cook to save my life, and love long walks on the beach.” Turning around, he gives me a mocking smile. “My favorite color is blue.”
Letting out a sigh, I lift my hand and push some hair behind my ear. “You’re being impossible.”