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)
I don't have to ask him if he means it to know he does. He thinks I'm beautiful. When is the last time someone said that to me? Aside from Cornerstore Joe, who shouts it every morning when I walk past, it's been a while. I know I'm not an ugly duckling, but I've never put in effort, either. In this line of work, putting in effort is just asking for trouble.
Beautiful women aren't taken seriously in male-dominated careers. Someone inevitably asks them out, and then things get complicated and awkward and weird at the office. I wanted to avoid all of that, especially since I'm one of very few women in this field office. So I rarely wear more than a coat of mascara, and my hair is usually pulled back in a bun. I'm cute on a good day.
"The truth is inappropriate?" he asks, playing dumb even though he's far from that.
"You know what I mean, Diego. Calling me pet names isn't appropriate. We aren't friends. We aren't dating. I'm here in an official capacity. You're under investigation."
"For what, precisely?" He cocks a brow. "Your people did nothing with any of the intel I gave them. Why the hell would I continue wasting my time and risking myself?"
"Building cases takes time. You know this."
"And what happens in the meantime, bella?" he asks. "People die bloody. Wars and conflicts continue. Street life goes on the same as always. The wheels of justice turn so goddamn slowly, they might as well not turn at all where we're concerned. By the time your people get around to dealing with a problem, we've already handled it and five others."
"Is that what happened to Tommaso Genovese? You handled him?"
"Someone did." Diego shrugs. "Like I told you yesterday, he was a rabid dog. He got put down like a rabid dog. That's how the mafia law works, bella."
"Who killed him, Diego?"
"He killed himself."
I growl in frustration. "He didn't commit suicide and you know he didn't."
"Everything is black and white to you," he says with a shake of his head. "I didn't say he committed suicide. I said he killed himself. His actions got him killed, bella. He knew what he risked when he did the things he did. He chose to do them anyway. You know the risks and assume the consequences if you fail. And you don't betray your own people. That's mafia law, Athena. He broke it. He reaped what he sowed, the same as anyone else who does the same."
"Who did he betray?" He has pieces I'm missing, knows things I don't. But he's talking around them, leaving giant holes in the middle that leave the picture muddied and unclear. "Explain it to me, Diego. I can't help you if you don't."
"I don't recall asking for your help, bella." A slow smirk overtakes his face as his gaze roves down my body. "Not with that anyway. If you want to discuss the other thing, however…."
"Fine, let's discuss that then." I hop to my feet, knocking my bag over in the process. My clumsy fingers go to the buttons on my jacket, slipping them through the holes.
"What are you doing, goddess?" For the first time, he seems wary as he watches me.
"Since you want to see them so badly, we might as well get it over with." I strip my arms out of the jacket, frustrated and flustered and running on pure annoyance. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm out of ideas here. I drop the jacket in the chair, leaving me in nothing but a skirt and slinky blouse. "Is this what you wanted to see, Diego?"
"Not quite," he murmurs, his gaze locked on my chest. "But it's a start, bella." His tongue touches his bottom lip before his eyes drift up to mine. "Your nipples are hard."
"I'm cold," I lie. "Who did Genovese betray?"
"Liar. You aren't cold. You want me." He shifts around in his chair, his hands disappearing from sight. "He betrayed his own people. Half of those bodies you're trying so hard to pin on me belong to him. Pinch your nipples, Athena. Let me see how you like to be touched."
"You're saying he killed his own people?"
"Pinch your nipples," he growls at me.
My stomach clenches, heat washing through me. That menacing growl is sexy as hell. It's also one I won't be obeying. This isn't how I want to get my answers. This isn't who I am. I won't pretend to be that woman, not even for every secret he holds.
"Don't tell me what to do, Diego. I don't answer to you." I toss my head, sending him a haughty look. "Right now, you answer to me. In case you forgot, I'm the one holding the key to your freedom in my hand, not the other way around."