Ruthless King (New Orleans Malones #4) Read Online Laylah Roberts

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Crime, Mafia Tags Authors: Series: New Orleans Malones Series by Laylah Roberts
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Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 122550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 613(@200wpm)___ 490(@250wpm)___ 409(@300wpm)
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It really worked for her.

This was wrong. This guy was holding her against her will and here was her body ready to melt into him. What was wrong with her?

She shot her gaze up to his and surprise filled her.

This wasn’t . . . it was . . . oh hell.

This was no stranger.

He wasn’t here to steal from her or attack her.

How had she not recognized his voice?

Well, maybe because you were too busy complaining about the loss of your rice pudding.

Oh. Dear. Lord.

Humiliation filled her as she realized that she had just made a complete jackass of herself.

3

Fuck.

Regent had only intended to scare her a little. To make her see how foolish it was to walk at night on her own. He’d been slightly annoyed when he’d arrived to find the house dark. But he hadn’t become truly concerned until he’d walked up to her door and discovered her security light really wasn’t working.

Because there was no light bulb in it.

Then when she’d breezed her way up the path to the house on foot, at night, without even bothering to take in her surroundings . . . yeah, then his concern and irritation had morphed into full-blown anger.

How dare she be so cavalier with her own safety?

What the fuck was she thinking? He’d been right the other night. She did need someone watching over her.

Although she might not like it very much.

For a moment, when he’d grabbed her, he’d felt her melt against him. Into him. He’d very nearly replaced his hand with his mouth.

He’d wanted to kiss her.

That wouldn’t have been smart.

And grabbing her is?

He wasn’t thinking clearly.

Now would be the time to step back. Give her space. Perhaps check on her foot while he scolded her for not taking care of herself.

Instead, he found himself pressing closer to her, placing his mouth by her ear.

“You’re in big trouble, Jilly,” he told her. “And when I remove my hand from your mouth, you’re going to think about how it would be in your best interests, and your bottom’s best interests, to do as you’re told. Understand me?”

He slid his fingers off her mouth and down to her pulse, which was racing. “Good girl.”

A shudder ran through her at those words.

“Regent,” she whispered.

“That’s right.” He moved his hands to rest against the side of the house on either side of her head.

He was aware that he was looming over her.

Unable to help himself, he ran his gaze over her. But even in the heat of summer, she was wearing a long skirt and full sleeves.

Denying him the sight of her beautiful body.

Which is just as well because she isn’t yours.

“You . . . you . . . what are you doing here?” she asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “After the other night, I thought it best I come back to check on you, which is just as well since it seems that your behavior needs some adjusting.”

This time her shudder didn’t seem to be one of pleasure. The way she sucked in a breath, it had him going on high alert.

Was she scared? Of whom?

Then it hit him . . . it was him. She feared him.

“Jilly, look at me.”

“I just want to go inside. I haven’t had any dinner. I’m hot and sweaty . . . and I really wish I hadn’t just told you that I was sweaty. I need to sit down. My foot hurts. My head is throbbing. I⁠—”

“Shh.”

How hard had she hit her foot? Did she really need a doctor?

She probably shouldn’t be standing on it.

Reaching down, he lifted her up into his arms.

“What . . . what are you doing?” she squeaked, trying to free herself.

“Stay still, Jilly. I don’t want to drop you.”

“You’d never drop me.”

No, he wouldn’t. But that didn’t mean that it was a good idea for her to squirm around. He never wanted her at risk.

Turning to the door, he opened it.

“Wait. My door was locked,” she said.

“I know. At least you did that,” he said. “I used my key.”

“Oh. Wait. What? You have a key?” There was a note of fear in her voice.

He hated hearing her sound like that. He found the light switch, turning it on.

“You have a key . . . to my house.”

Technically, the house belonged to him, but he didn’t say that. For all intents and purposes, this house was hers and her mother’s. And if it wasn’t for the tunnel access, he’d have signed it over to them years ago.

“Jilly, you know why I have a key,” he murmured, walking into the kitchen and turning on another light.

Then he sat her at the worn table. Years ago, as a child, he sometimes sat here while her mom snuck him cookies.

Before his father dragged him into meetings with Jilly’s father.

“Right. The tunnels. And technically, I guess this is your house. I just didn’t think that you . . . um . . . ”


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