Raw (RAW Family #1) Read Online Belle Aurora

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Angst, Bad Boy, BDSM, Dark, Erotic, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors: Series: RAW Family Series by Belle Aurora
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Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 103753 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 519(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
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The moment lingers, and then that moment is over.

Standing immediately, I adjust my erection in my pants, walk around the desk, pick up my jacket and open the door.

“Wait!”

Turning back, Lexi’s face is once again confused. Poor Lexi. She’ll learn. Eventually.

“Where are you going? We have paperwork to sign.” She says, looking more pissed than confused, and pulling at her hips to right her creased skirt.

“I know. I’ll send someone up to deal with it.”

She returns exasperated, “I thought you said you were the owner of the company!”

“I am.” Putting in a cufflink, I add, “Part-owner. Happy will be up to sign anything you need signed. I’ll call, Lexi.”

“Wait!” She shouts. “What’s your name?”

I know what she wants. And she’s not getting it. Not until I’m ready to give it. “Lexi, we’ve been through this already. I’m Twitch. Just…” I half smirk, “…Twitch.”

Turning and ignoring her plea to wait, I close the door behind me and nod to Happy, who waits in the hall. Happy knocks on the office door I just came from, and I don’t bother turning to see him walk in on the flustered mess that is Lexi.

I smirk to myself. That was fun. Straightening my tie, I silently chuckle. My tongue darts out, sliding along my bottom lip, tasting her.

We should do it again sometime.

Oh man, am I pissed or what?

Tapping my pen rapidly on the edge of my keyboard, I confirm what few details I have. “So, Mr. Ahmadi, I don’t quite understand. You own Falcon Plastics, along with Mr.—”

I wait for him to give Twitch’s last name to me, but even as I wait, I know he won’t give me an inch. This guy is not stupid. He knows the score. I mean, he knows Twitch. Enough said. His cool demeanor is intimidating. He isn’t being rude. Not in the slightest. He’s been quite the gentleman, actually, but his character is cool. Almost brooding. He responds businesslike, “Please, call him Twitch. He prefers it. And I would like if you called me Happy. Or if you prefer to keep things formal, then Farid. Please.”

Happy? A strange nickname. Especially for someone who doesn’t look…happy.

“Very well, Farid. I see I’m not going to get any information out of you about my surprise guest, am I?” The small twitch of his lips is my answer. Nodding in resignation, I bring out the paperwork needed for long-term sponsorship. Farid hands me all the company paperwork I need to photocopy; he signs the contact and within half hour, we’re done. And we are five-hundred-thousand dollars up in budget.

And I’m suddenly giddy again.

Farid stares me down through his thick narrowed brows as if he can’t figure me out. His almost-black eyes are lined with thick black lashes; if his name didn’t alert me to the fact he is of a Middle Eastern background, that would’ve been the thing to tip me off. His bald-shaved head shines under the fluorescent lighting above. Almost as tall as Twitch, but much larger in stature, I wonder if he’s Twitch’s muscle. And I can’t help it. My smile widens. He asks, “This means something to you, doesn’t it?”

Whoa. Loaded question.

Suddenly emotional, I blink as my eyes mist, and I whisper, “You have no idea.”

His brow furrows deeper a moment before he nods. Holding out his hand, I take it happily as he says genuinely, “I’m glad we could help out. I’m also glad to know the person who took our donation is someone who’s clearly passionate about her job and will make sure it gets used the way it was intended to be used.”

I’m so grateful for people like this man right here. He genuinely cares. Most people who care like he does have been through something of their own – something hard – so they know the value of charitable organizations. It’s just my guess, but I’d say Farid has experienced some hard times, as I’m sure Twitch has.

I respond, “Thank you. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this will mean. For some, it’ll mean a warm bed to sleep in, or heat during winter, or even a decent meal. We can educate with this money. We can train with this money. We can make a difference with this money. Thank you, Farid. It was lovely to meet you.”

I’m pleasantly surprised when he covers our shaking hands with his free hand and says, “I hope you’ll call me Happy. Please, call me Happy.”

I have no idea what I’ve done to make this cool man warm up to me so quickly, but it’s kind of awesome. Smiling stupidly, I nod once and repeat, “Happy.”

Releasing my hand, he reaches into his back pocket and hands me a business card. It has no name on it, just a number. Happy leans closer to me and whispers, “If you ever get into trouble again like you did the other week and Twitch isn’t around, you call that number and someone will come out.”


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