Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71832 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 359(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
“Doing what?”
“Saying—stuff. Like, sex stuff. You’re driving me insane.”
“Because you like it. Admit you like hearing my voice describe how I’ll make you come. Legs spread, juice dripping down my tongue. You can grind your hips against my stubble, moaning my name, whimpering it over and over.”
I stare at his mouth, and yes, I very much enjoy it. “You disgust me. You’re like a big, violent, psychopathic, controlling, overly privileged—”
His eyes sparkle with amusement. “All right, Ash. If you don’t finish that sentence, I’ll agree to your compromise.”
I pause in surprise. “Really?”
That was easy. I am immediately suspicious.
“We’ll go to the hospital. You’ll visit Iain. Then when we’re done, I’ll bring you back to the mansion and I’ll show you what being my wife will be like. Is that a deal?”
I blink rapidly.
I’m pretty sure he’s propositioning me right now.
Not in a business sense, but in a I’m going to bone you so hard your back breaks and your vagina’s ruined for all other men forever sort of way.
Which is admittedly horrifying and appealing.
Because I’m pretty sure he can make good on a promise like that.
“So long as you don’t get any ideas, I agree.” Pathetic. Puny. I’m disgusted with myself. Also, extremely aroused at the thought of letting this man go to town on me in his ridiculous mansion.
What is broken inside my skull right now?
His smirk makes me want to scream. “I have plenty of ideas, my little Ash. Now come on, let’s get going. I have a long day ahead of me, and I suspect I will be spending the majority of it showing you just how imaginative I can be.”
Without another word, he walks to the door and steps into the hall.
Leaving me to reconsider all my life choices.
Imaginative. Carson Crowley.
Can I really go with him right now? Can I really follow him back to his family’s mansion? Once he gets me there, I have a feeling I’ll never come back out—not until I’m wearing his ring and calling him hubski.
Oh, god. I think I’ve gone absolutely insane.
But then my legs are moving, and we’re getting into his Lexus, and I don’t know how long my willpower’s going to last.
Chapter 13
Carson
Ash disappears into Iain’s hospital room. I watch her go before turning away toward the waiting room. The doctors and nurses give me a wide berth as I walk through—most of them realize my family pays their salary, and the rest are afraid of my reputation.
I learned early on that my family needs to be two things at once: terrifying and eminently generous. It’s not enough to make Boston afraid of us—we need them to love us too. The combination of love and fear builds something profound, and it’s right in the middle of those emotions where my family’s power continues to grow.
It’s where I want to put Ash.
I make a call back in the waiting area. “Nolan. Where are we?”
My brother sounds tired. We’re all fucking tired. “Still looking for the bastards. Dad’s furious.”
“I’m not worried about Dad’s feelings right now. We have multiple dead Crowley members. We need answers.”
Nolan grunts. “You’re not worried because you’re not here. Shit rolls downhill, remember?”
“Throw your pity party later. What’s the latest?”
“Poles aren’t talking. We know it’s them and they haven’t even bothered to deny it, but they’re also not engaging with our guys at all.”
“The fuck are they thinking?” I pace back and forth across the waiting room. An older woman gives me a sharp look but I ignore her.
The Polish mob is one of the more powerful minor families in the city. They’re nowhere near our size, but they have a significant presence and some decent muscle. While they’re not a threat to the Crowley organization on any existential level, they can make our lives difficult if they decide that an all-out conflict is warranted.
Too bad I have no clue what the fuck they want. They’re led by a guy named Jan Minda, an ugly, violent little bastard with a temper to match. In years past, we’ve had good relations, sharing information where it benefits both organizations and generally giving each other a wide berth. We haven’t wanted any violence, and it wouldn’t be in their best interests to start anything with us.
But now, this sudden attack makes no sense.
Nolan says, “The only thing I keep coming back to is your boy. You know how Iain was.”
“Iain’s still alive so quit using the past tense,” I murmur, thinking hard. “What do you mean by that?”
“Iain got himself into trouble. The boy loved his drinking, his fighting, his pussy. I mean, he loves it still. Yeah, he was generous and people liked him, but whatever, that’s not enough. I always said he was trouble.”
I grunt in response. “You think he did something to provoke them.”
“He must’ve. Why else is it that the only dead are from his wretched little family?”