Total pages in book: 192
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 182641 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 913(@200wpm)___ 731(@250wpm)___ 609(@300wpm)
Calvin’s eyes lift to ours, a single brow rising. “All hail from the north. That can’t be good,” he teases.
“I would take the trip south if you allowed me the pleasure, Mr. Greyson.” Bronx not so subtly purrs.
Calvin’s jaw clenches, but he says nothing, simply nods his chin in farewell and saunters off, the tension of his faintly impressive muscles visible through his tailored suit.
He doesn’t make it out of earshot before laughter flows from us, and we step through the front doors, already being held open, our car waiting right at the edge of the steps.
Sai, the man who drives us as a trio and my own personal guardian every other second of my life, is there, ready and waiting.
He winks as I approach, the slight wrinkles at the edge deepening with the action as he crosses his right hand over his left, thrusting his chin high, proud to show off the markings of his neck—the double-walled G, identical to the ring on his right hand, he’s put on display, burned and branded into his skin, a representation of the oath he took to protect and serve at all costs. To always put me and my safety above all others at all times, including at the risk of his own life.
It sounds a little over the top but in my world? It’s necessary, and the fact that Sai chose to dedicate his life to protecting mine means more than I can express.
Delta is the last to slide in. “You should have asked Calvin to travel south, doubling the chances of him taking one of the two offers—your wing or your hoo-ha.”
Bronx sighs dramatically, playfully fanning herself. “Or I could just spread my legs very unladylike the next time I’m called into his office and asked to sit in the chair across from him.”
“Why does it sound like you need to add ‘again’ to the end of that sentence?” I flick my eyes her way over my compact mirror, triple-checking I didn’t get lipstick on my teeth.
“One chip at a time, Rocco. You know the game best. Dom took a chisel to your ice years ago and only just broke through.”
“Which is awfully sad when you think about it.” Delta joins in on Bronx’s fun. “It’s not like he requires a Magnum-sized hole.”
“Poor Damiano and his six-inch grower not shower,” Bronx adds with a faux pout.
I roll my eyes but chuckle along with them.
They’re only teasing. All three of us have seen Damiano naked, be it out at the Greyson lake house, when we’d go late-night skinny dipping or, on occasion, his suitless laps in the pool on the grounds. Or simply when he decides to strip down to his birthday suit on fun, drunken nights of partying.
He’s far from girthy challenged, and he has worn me down over the last few months. If ‘wore me down’ refers to the fact that his argument of being a capable, wanting young man as I am a capable, needy young woman, and the idea that we could benefit sexually from one another has finally begun to make a lick of sense.
Sai loops our car around the long driveway, through the first set of iron gates, blocking us off from the rest of the estate, and starts down the long road that sometimes feels never ending.
Most of my life is spent within these walls and when I’m not here, I’m shadowed everywhere I go.
Sai may come off as the perfect, silent chauffeur, and he is as far as everyone else is concerned. He pretends he doesn’t hear whatever is said and that he doesn’t see whatever is to be seen, when really, he sees everything, hears everything, knows every-freaking-thing. He has this sixth sense when it comes to me.
Ten years as my guardian will do that.
When I was a little girl, he was my dad’s shadow, the man with the muscle when my dad wasn’t in the mood to use his own, and then just before my mother died, he became mine.
He’s taller than tall and built like a bull, with wide shoulders and arms that threaten to shred the seams of his suit jacket. His nose is a bit crooked and he has small scars littering his features, but not in a way that makes him appear rugged. His hair is as dark as his eyes, but over the last few years, hints of gray have popped up in the hairline near his temples. Him and my dad both.
When they stand beside each other, they look every bit as menacing as they did ten years ago. Age has only made them stronger, as it tends to do when everyone is trying to be the next you.
I know why my dad put his oldest and his most trusted friend with me.
There is no doubt in my mind, or anyone who knows the man behind the mask, that if anyone ever dared come after me, he’d go full-blown John Creasy on their ass.