Total pages in book: 43
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
“Journey, I need to take this call.” I kiss the side of her head. Her eyes flutter open then closed as my fingers slide her auburn hair off one creamy shoulder before pulling the sheet and comforter up so she won’t freeze to death.
“Okay, come back soon.” She’s barely gotten four hours of sleep between the short nap we took after I came to her only to wake her up, have my wicked way with her, us falling back asleep, and then my phone vibrating across the nightstand, jarring me awake.
“Journey.” I stare down at her until she gives me those green eyes of hers, letting her know with one look that the only thing that would take me away from climbing back in the bed with her would be work.
“Go take care of business, or I’m going to take a shower and get to work,” she teases. I watch as she rolls from her back to her side, stuffing the pillow I was using under her head. Yeah, right, as if she’ll drag her ass out from under the covers while the air conditioning is humming out the ice-cold air. And I’m not willing to kick it up yet either. My morning is supposed to be free—no meetings, no bullshit that needs to be taken care of right away. My Sunday morning is my own. Not even church was keeping me away from Journey today, and if you knew my mother, you’d understand the ration of shit she gave me when I told her I wouldn’t be there or at Sunday dinner afterwards.
“Lorenzo,” I answer the phone, eyes still locked on Journey’s body. She’s already falling back to sleep. Not knowing what this conversation is going to be like or how long it’s going to take, I grab my boxer briefs off the floor where I dropped them last night, using my shoulder to hold my phone as I get them back on my body, my cock hardening just thinking about Journey naked beneath the sheets.
“Boss, we got problems.” It never fucking fails. There’s always something. It took time and patience transferring power from one Donotello to the other. Emilio, my father, handing it over was unheard of seeing how he’s in good health, still fairly young in most men’s eyes. But he was ready to hand it over, and seeing as I’m the only son, the oldest child in our bloodline that seemed to only give him one daughter after me, the business came to me. It was only a matter of time before Ma said enough was enough, wanting to enjoy her grandchildren. A bone she picks with me daily, telling me to settle down with Journey and have kids of my own. That’s all well and fine until shit happens. Journey becoming a target because as my weakest link, our enemies will go after her with a vengeance I can’t even think about is what’s holding me back.
“When the fuck don’t we?” It’s a good thing I made quick work of walking out of Journey’s room, closing the door until it’s only cracked open, because something tells me I’m not going to like what Enzo has to say. He may be my cousin, but he’s also my right-hand man, an advisor of sorts, letting me know what’s happening before it does and someone to talk things over with.
“Russians are moving in. Caught one of them pushing heroin on The Strip by Wylder’s place.” Petrov is barking up the wrong fucking tree. He’s got his territory, and I’ve got mine; the whole Strip is ours, bought and paid for in multiple ways—protection, money laundering, and racketeering. We don’t dabble in the skin department. If women want to sell their bodies, that’s their prerogative. Drugs are a whole other story. You want pot, we got no problem in selling that, but not to school kids, and we don’t push pills or anything that needs a vein or goes up their nose.
“Bring in the men. Seems we need a meeting, have a chat, and make a stand when it comes to Petrov and his crew.” I already know the reason for it; he’s trying to see what I’m made of, if I’m a pushover or if I’ve got what it takes like my old man. Petrov has another thing coming if he thinks he’ll run all over the Donotellos. My dad didn’t raise a pussy that is afraid to fight.
“What time?” Enzo asks, knowing I’d be busy this morning. Besides Wylde and Enzo, not one single fucking person knows where I am, who I’m with, and that’s how I intent to keep it.
“Tonight. Let the guys be with their famiglia. The men who are working today, tell them to make a large presence. I don’t want that shit touching the bars and clubs. The fucking pigs will be swarming in a second,” I tell him as I walk to the sliding glass doors that lead out to a small lanai where Journey has a little table and chairs set up. A lot smaller than my place. For her, this is perfect. When I’m off the clock for a few hours, I’d much rather be in something that’s spacious and outside of the city, unlike where Journey’s condo is located.