Roman (Men of the Falls #2) Read Online Melanie Moreland

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Billionaire, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia, Suspense, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: Men of the Falls Series by Melanie Moreland
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Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 93203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 466(@200wpm)___ 373(@250wpm)___ 311(@300wpm)
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“We need a meeting.”

“When?”

“Tonight.”

“Fine. I’ll come to you. My table will be waiting.”

“See you at seven.”

I hung up without replying.

I looked out the window of my SUV, watching as the city went by. Leaving the busy tourist section where the casino was, I frowned at the area we were in.

“Why are you taking this route?”

“Roadwork, boss. We’ll be back on the highway in a few moments,” Ralph, my driver, assured me. “I put cold water in the fridge for you.”

“Thanks.”

I stared at the scenery. It was hard to recall at times there was an entire bustling town that lived and thrived far from the spectacle of the Falls. That away from the tourists and bright lights, families worked and existed, having little to do with the remarkable Falls.

Ralph cursed. “One more detour, boss. Right into the neighborhood, and then we’ll be done.” He turned and drove down some streets, the area pretty and well-kept. He stopped at a light, and I turned my head, frowning at the sign I spotted.

Bagels and Bites.

The vehicle started forward. “Stop!” I commanded.

The SUV came to a jarring halt. “Boss?”

“Pull over.”

Ralph did as I asked. I had no idea why I did so. I climbed from the SUV, telling him and my security guy, Carlo, to stay in the vehicle. Carlo wasn’t too happy about that, but he didn’t argue.

I opened the door of the small restaurant, inhaling the fragrance of fresh-baked bread. Savory and rich. Yeasty and warm. My stomach growled, and I decided to get something to eat.

I approached the counter where a woman was filling a basket. She looked up as I cleared my throat. She was young—maybe eighteen, with blond hair. Pretty.

Was this the sister?

“May I help you?” she asked.

I scanned the menu. “Toasted bagel, light cream cheese, no butter.”

“What kind?”

“Whole wheat.”

“Boring,” she mumbled. “Anything else?”

“Black coffee.”

She turned and grabbed a bagel, cutting it and popping it into the toaster efficiently. She peered into a container, then stuck her head in the doorway. “Effie! I need more light cream cheese!”

For some reason, I tensed.

Nothing prepared me for the woman who walked out the kitchen door.

Tiny. Curvy. Maybe twenty-five. Her hair was so dark it resembled a raven’s wing and hung down her back in a thick braid. She had a heart-shaped face with rounded cheeks and full lips that begged to be kissed. And her eyes. I had never seen eyes like them.

Wide, under arched eyebrows and long, dark lashes were a pair of the most unique blue-violet eyes. Her irises were rimmed in black, the combination so stunning, it caught me off guard. So did her expression. Her mouth curved naturally, a sweet smile gracing her face.

Innocence dripped from every tiny, delicate inch of her body. She was incredibly beautiful. Even in a simple apron and jeans, she was stunning.

And unknowingly sexy.

And her sister wanted to sell her for a night. Or forever.

“Effie?” I questioned without thinking, rage beginning to build in me at the thought of the callousness shown by her sibling.

She looked startled, meeting my intense gaze. “Yes. How may I help you?”

“You’re Effie Warner?” I repeated, thinking how the name suited her. It was soft and fluid, much the way she appeared. The urge to reach out and touch her cheek was so powerful, I had to clench my hands into fists. The sensation was disconcerting, to say the least.

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“I met your sister.”

A shadow crossed her face, and her pretty lips frowned. “Well, I’m sure that was pleasurable for both of you. I’ll repeat my question. How may I help you?”

“Has she been here? Today?”

“No.” She crossed her arms. “Look, Mister⁠—”

“Roman,” I interrupted her.

“Look, Mr. Roman, whatever your beef is with her, I can’t help you.”

I tried not to smile at her salutation. It was rather adorable.

I hated adorable.

“How do you know it’s a beef?” I asked.

“I highly doubt you came in here to sing her praises. If she ran over your dog or stole from your liquor store, you have my deepest apologies. But I can’t fix it.”

I had to tamp down the urge to laugh.

Liquor store?

“That’ll be four fifty,” the blond girl said, handing me a cup and a bag.

Effie pushed the food my way. “On the house. I’d appreciate it if you would leave.”

I didn’t take exception to her words. In fact, I was proud of her. She recognized me as dangerous. Wanted nothing to do with me. I could respect that.

I pulled out my wallet and took out a fifty. I pushed it into the tip jar on the counter.

“If your sister comes to you, say no,” I instructed Effie.

She frowned. “What?”

“Just say no,” I repeated.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but if you’ve met her, then you know that rarely helps with Marianne,” she said dryly.


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