Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103124 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 516(@200wpm)___ 412(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
“We leave tonight. Papa says he’s urgently required in America.” I grab his hands. “Nico, I don’t know when I’ll see you again.”
“So soon.” He frowns as if trying to make sense of the two colliding tidal waves. His mama’s death, and my father’s sudden change of plans to leave for America tonight. “None of this makes sense.”
Suddenly overwhelmed, I burst into tears. “We’ll never see each other again.”
In a rush of urgency, he takes my hand. “I’ll find you. I promise. On your eighteenth birthday, I will find you. No matter where you are. We will be together again.”
I begin to cry harder. I want to be strong for him. But our world is crashing down around us.
He pulls me into his strong chest and holds me tight, and I can feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat against my cheek. “This isn’t the end for us.”
I squeeze my eyes shut and tell myself to remember this moment. His smell, the thump of his heart, the strength in his arms around me.
A set of headlights appear on the driveway, and a car comes to a screech at the door. It’s Alberto and two of my father’s bodyguards. All guns are drawn.
Out of nowhere, several De Kysa bodyguards swarm around us, and there is a lot of yelling and a lot of gun pointing.
“Give us the girl,” Alberto demands.
I am ripped from Nico’s arms.
“Bella—” he cries, but he is pulled in one direction while I am pulled in the other.
“Nico!" I scream.
“Remember what I said. I will come for you.”
One of my father’s bodyguards hooks his arm tighter around my waist and drags me away. I struggle and cry, but I’m no match for his strength. I reach out for Nico, but he is finally dragged out of view, and I’m shoved into the car, and the doors are locked.
Inside the car, I scream, “What the fuck is happening?”
Alberto looks at me through the rearview mirror and simply says, “The Isle Ciccula and the De Kysa are now at war.”
1
Nico
Ten Years Later
I stand at the penthouse window and stare out at the glittering city below.
My name is Domenico De Kysa.
Back home in Italy, they call me the Heartless King of the North. It’s a title I hate. But it’s a title that lets my rivals know they should fear me.
I’d say it is a pleasure to meet you. But that wouldn’t be true.
You don’t want to meet me.
You might think you do… after all, everyone does.
But the truth is, I’m not a good man.
In my hometown, I’m feared. My surname alone holds the power to evoke terror. There, I’m known for my lack of emotion in the way I execute my brutal revenge on anyone who dares to cross me. In my world, betrayal is met with painful bloodletting, and if you are to believe the rumor, I’m very good at it.
But in this city, I am still a shiny new star, and the darkness that follows my name has yet to cast a shadow over the glittering New York City landscape.
Here I am, still revered and lusted after by those who don’t know me or my capacity for vicious retaliation. My Midas touch in the business world is like honey to the ignorant fat cats who scramble to make my association, and my dark good looks send a tremor through the social circles of the upper echelon, attracting attention and making panties wet.
Invites flood my assistant’s desk by the dozen every day, and accidental meetings at the gym or as I walk into my office in Upper Manhattan are becoming a nightmare for my bodyguard to fend off.
I didn’t plan on taking New York by storm. Didn’t plan on my business ventures becoming successful beyond my wildest dreams. Didn’t plan on becoming one of the richest men in town or an object of interest because I’m rich, handsome, and powerful. They aren’t the reasons I came here.
No, I have bigger plans than being the toast of the fucking city.
Ice. Cold. Revenge.
I grip the scotch tumbler in my hand as pleasure begins to uncoil in my stomach. With a growl, I reach for the hair of the woman with my cock in her mouth. She kneels before me, fucking me with her ruby-red lips and tongue, as I stare out at the glittering New York skyline with dark thoughts on my mind.
She moans, and it vibrates through me, sending another jolt of pleasure along my cock.
My fingers tighten in her hair, and she gags as the swollen head hits the back of her throat. I take a sip of scotch from the tumbler in my other hand and close my eyes, allowing my mind to drift over the night’s events.
I groan. I’m close to coming. The woman whimpers eagerly and sucks harder, massaging my cock with her tongue and lips. I grab the back of her head and start to fuck her mouth harder, thrusting, groaning, straining, my head swirling with darkness. Revenge. I want revenge. With a growl, I rip my cock from her swollen lips and fist my release over her eager tongue, pumping and pumping until there is nothing left to give.