Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
If she wanted safety, she shouldn't have followed me into the dark. If her bosses wanted her safe, they shouldn't have been stupid enough to put her in my path. I've never apologized for being who I am. I won't start now.
"I made my choice." I meet Mattia's gaze, daring him to try to stand in my way. Daring Rafe and the FBI, too. They can try, but this is personal. I can pretend it's about protecting the Valentino empire and Amalia all I want, but at the end of the day…it has nothing to do with either of those things and everything to do with her.
Mattia sighs and then nods. "Figured you'd say that." He pushes away from the door, draining his cup. "But I thought we should have this conversation anyway. Probably should have had it with Rafe, Luca, and Gabriel last year, and didn't. I'm doing shit differently this time around."
"Think they would have done anything differently?"
A rough bark of laughter bursts from his lips. He launches his cup toward the trashcan beside the desk, sinking it in one. "Not a fucking chance," he says. "But who knows? They've surprised me a few times lately." He looks me over. "Your FBI agent just moved to Chicago. Her entire family is back in Washington."
I jerk my chin in a nod, grateful for the intel. Family tends to complicate things, and right now, that's the last thing I need. Until she's in my bed and I'm stealing my way into her fucking soul, I want her to myself. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.
I'm going to be the only thing she thinks about. Until it drives her fucking crazy.
Chapter Four
Athena
"Stop stalling and go in," I mutter, trying to coax myself out of the car for the fifth time since I parked in the garage outside Diego's office. It's not working. I tossed and turned all night, mad as hell about how our meeting yesterday ended. Mad that I let him touch me. Mad that he was right. Mad that part of me didn't hate it.
This morning, I dressed myself in outrage and painted myself for war…only to lose my nerve as soon as his building came into view. It's ridiculous. I'm not a little girl and I don't fall at any man's feet. Especially not one like Diego Butera.
He's responsible for more death and destruction than I can count. He's helped more criminals in this city escape justice than I can even fathom. Maybe he had an identity crisis for a while there and tried to do the right thing. Maybe talking to us was all part of whatever game he's playing. Whatever the reason, he's clearly back to his old way.
If I needed any proof of that, I got it last night. He had dinner with Rafe Valentino. It doesn't matter if they are family by marriage. He chose his side, and it isn't ours. It's theirs. The mafia's. Diego Butera is one of them and he always will be.
"You going to sit out here all morning, bella?"
"Jesus!" I practically jump out of my seat when his velvet voice sounds right outside my driver's side window. My arm comes down on the horn, blowing a sharp blast that echoes through the garage in a distorted wave. I jump again, my nerves on edge.
Diego notices. A smirk stretches across his handsome face, wicked humor reflecting in his eyes. "Distracted thinking about me, goddess?"
"You wish." I roll my eyes, scowling at him.
"I do," he says, so softly I almost don't hear the words at all. His gaze drops, rolling over me like a heatwave.
I fight the urge to lay my arms across my chest to hide my hard nipples, refusing to give him the satisfaction. "My eyes are up here, Butera," I growl, snapping my fingers instead.
He slowly lifts his gaze, his smirk growing. "I'm aware, Athena. But I wasn't looking for your eyes. I was imagining what your tits look like in that pretty little top. I'll be fucking my hand to the fantasy later."
I grab the door handle, shoving it open hard enough to send him reeling back a step when it connects with his thigh. He doesn't even flinch, the bastard. His laughter floats through the garage, lifting little hairs at the nape of my neck.
I grab my bag and slide from the car, scowling up at him the entire time as if that'll keep him from coming too close. Let's be real, though. Diego Butera is a wild animal. And I think I may be his prey.
It's supposed to be the other way around. I'm supposed to be the hunter. He's supposed to be the hunted. That's the way law enforcement works. But this man hasn't been hunted a day in his life. He's never run from anyone or anything. He's in charge and he knows it. I won't win in a power struggle. We both know I don't even stand a chance.