Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91238 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
The house was set up for situations like this. The basement is soundproofed with a drain in the middle. A single chair’s waiting over the drain. I sit our Irishman down and use a length of rope left for the purpose of binding him nice and tight. Once that’s done, I leave him in darkness and join Carlo upstairs.
“Renzo’s going to be pissed,” I say, grabbing a beer from the fridge. I want something harder but it’s all we have. Carlo accepts one too. We crack them open and drink deep. The alcohol will help soothe some of the adrenaline.
“Yeah, I know. One dead body, which means a fucking murder investigation.” He sighs and leans his head back. “I’ll have to ditch the car.”
“We’ll do it tonight.”
“No worries, I know some guys that can take it off our hands. Fucking asshole had a gun right next to his bed and didn’t even hesitate when I opened the door.”
“Paranoid.”
“No shit.” He laughs, looking a little shaky as he drinks some more. “But we did it. Aren’t you happy I brought the masks?”
I punch his shoulder, grinning to myself. Down below us, strapped to a chair, is the answer to all my problems.
I just have to figure out how we’re going to use him.
Chapter 39
Allegra
I’m a total wreck. From the moment Gian leaves, all I can think about is him getting killed.
I don’t know what I’ll do if that happens. It’ll be like all the light in my life getting switched off at once. I finally realized that I want to be with Gian, and not just for some deal; I want to be with him for real. There are too many squishy, overwhelming feelings in my body, and I’m sick of trying to ignore it. I want that man, want him more than I ever thought I could.
He’s good for me. That’s so obvious. He wants me to be happy, even if that means we don’t have the traditional mafia relationship. Everything he’s done since coming back into my life has been in the service of pushing me toward my dream. Getting me back to work, encouraging me to apply to new places. Even though he doesn’t have to, he’s risking his life to fix my relationship with my family.
And the worst part of this is, they don’t deserve it.
Nobody’s called me since my father ex-communicated me. Only Sophia has shown any interest in having a relationship with me. None of my other cousins, none of my aunts or uncles, none of the people I thought cared about me. My father said I was dead and to them, I was dead.
It kills me, thinking about that. I suffer all night imagining Gian injured, bleeding, dying, all for a bunch of people who aren’t worth the struggle.
Hours slip past. I can’t sleep and eventually give up. I watch a mindless action movie, but that doesn’t help. Everyone who gets shot makes me think of Gian. I switch over to comedy instead. Nothing’s funny right now, but at least there aren’t any guns.
It’s a little past sunrise when the front door opens.
I leap to my feet, terrified that it’ll be Carlo coming in with bad news. Instead, Gian enters the living room looking exhausted, haggard, but perfect.
“Baby,” he says, and I don’t wait for him to tell me what happened.
I throw myself at him. I kiss him hard, desperate for him. “I kept driving myself crazy,” I say as I hug him so hard I might crack one of my own ribs in the process. “I’m so happy you’re okay.”
“I’m fine.” He kisses me gently, a smile on his lips. “But I’m happy you care.”
“You dick.” I swat at his arm. Then I kiss him more, fingers lacing in his hair as he stoops down to me. “I want you, Gian.”
He drags me to the couch. He’s sweaty and obviously as tired as I am, but none of it matters. I undress him, hurried, heart pounding. Once he’s sitting on the couch, his cock so hard it’s throbbing, I straddle him, take off my shirt, and arch my back. I’m already wet and aching, and he slips inside me so easily, it’s like waking up after a long night’s rest. I shudder as I slide down him and lean forward, his hands on my ass.
After the rush to strip him, I take my time riding. He feels so fucking good between my legs. Normally, he’s so vocal, but I don’t let him talk; instead, I kiss him, drinking him in, wanting to do nothing but feel him. I never should’ve let him go on that stupid mission. I should’ve kept him home with me. I should’ve been fucking him all night instead of letting him risk his life. I ride him faster, desperate to make up for all my idiot mistakes.