Wicked (The Ruined Trilogy #3) Read Online Nichole Rose

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Insta-Love, Virgin Tags Authors: Series: The Ruined Trilogy Series by Nichole Rose
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Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
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"She knew the rules, Genesis. She's lucky all I'm doing is firing her." Our enemies are everywhere, willing to do whatever it takes to take us out and bring Rafe's empire crashing to the ground. I can't grant Lydia Kaplan leniency when it breeds complacency. Not when the stakes are this high and the price of disobedience could be Rafe's life or Luca's.

"You're such a...a..."

"Finish it," I say softly, striding across the slate gray tile toward Genesis.

"Finish what?" she snaps.

"Tell me what I am, piccola fiamma. Tell me what you really think of me."

"You're a jerk," she growls, her emerald eyes flashing defiance. "You expect an old lady to clean a high-rise by herself and then fire her because she isn't superwoman and didn't follow your precious rules. She's old, Gabriel! She has heart problems. But you never stopped to think about that, did you? All you care about is the fact that she didn't bow to your unreasonable demands."

"Baciami."

"What?"

"Kiss me."

"Uh, no."

I step closer to her. "Kiss me and she stays, piccola fiamma."

She glowers at me, fierce and radiant. I half expect her to tell me to go to hell just because she's had enough of my bullshit. But she growls like a little tiger and stomps toward me. Her hands land against my shoulders as she hauls herself up onto her toes.

Her soft lips touch mine.

I pounce before she has a chance to pull away, hauling her up against my chest. I lock my arms around her—one around her curvy waist, the other in the thick tresses of her wild hair.

"I said kiss me, tesoro," I breathe against her lips. "Not cocktease me."

"Go to hell, Gabriel."

"Been there, done that. Now I'm trying to break down the doors to heaven." I nip her bottom lip, groaning at how fucking soft she is in my arms. "Goddamn, Genesis. You make it hard to be good."

"I doubt you even know the definition." She trembles in my arms, trying to resist me even as she presses closer. "You were born with hellfire in your eyes and a pitchfork in your hands, weren't you?"

"Close enough." I crane her head back to pillage her smart fucking mouth. "You'll learn to beg for both, piccola fiamma. You won't be able to make it through the fucking day without either." I swoop before she can answer, stealing her answer from her lips. Stealing my way into her soul. Cristo. The things I want to do to this girl.

She thinks I'm the devil. I'll be her own personal demon if it gets me closer to what I want...to what I need.

I kiss and consume her, taking what I want from her. Pushing her as far as I dare. She melts in my arms despite herself, plastering that perfect fucking curvy body against me as if she can't stand not feeling me everywhere.

Her short nails dig into the leather of my jacket, a sweet little mewling sound emanating from her throat. I hope she makes the same sound when I'm kissing my way toward heaven later.

"Girl! What's taking you so...?"

Genesis gasps as soon as Lydia Kaplan speaks. I ignore her attempt to pull back and finish what I started, plundering her mouth like it belongs to me. I don't care if the old lady is watching. She can fucking wait.

She led a lamb to a lion and didn't guard it closely enough. It belongs to the lion now.

"Sei mia adesso," I growl against Genesis's lips. My dick is a hard bulge against her belly. Her sugar and spice still lingers on my tongue. Fuck. She tastes better than anything that's ever passed my lips. "Sei mia."

She may not speak Italian, but Lydia does. The old woman gasps, the sound five parts horror...and two parts relief.

Interesting. Interesting, indeed.

Chapter Four

Gabriel

"You live here?" Genesis eyes me skeptically, her arms crossed over her ample chest and her brows furrowed as she glances around my living room.

"Yep. Surprised?" I arch a brow, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike my brothers, I don't live in a house large enough to fit an army. My place is an old greystone in Bridgeport...as fucking far from Rafe as I can get without encroaching on territory that doesn't belong to the Valentino family.

Once upon a time, the house belonged to my mom's parents. I'm not sure any of my brothers know that. I never told them. Didn't see a point when they've lived with our mom's ghost for so long already. Sometimes, ignorance is preferable to pain.

Me though? I barely remember her. Not the color of her eyes, or the way she smiled. Not the sound of her laugh, or the warmth of her hugs. I was six when she died, barely old enough to spell my own goddamn name. Any memories I had of her were erased by our father long ago. Being in the home where she grew up doesn't hurt. It brings me comfort. I'm not sure my brothers would agree.


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