Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44963 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 225(@200wpm)___ 180(@250wpm)___ 150(@300wpm)
“Sometimes, a man has to do the right thing. Now hurry. Once they find out I’ve gone against their orders, they’ll put a hit out on all three of us to cover their tracks.”
“A hit,” I repeat. “I must be dreaming. We don’t even know your name.”
“Does it matter?” he snaps.
His tone triggers something in me. I pace across the room, glaring up at him, my fists clenched at my sides.
“Actually, it does since you’ve just destroyed my entire world. Since you’re saying all this stuff that doesn’t make any sense. The mafia killing my dad, and now you’re grinning at me like it’s all a joke.”
His smirk twitches, but then he flattens in, staring seriously.
“Luke,” he says. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. A true goddamn delight. Now… your bag.”
“Come on,” Dad says, his hands on my shoulders. “We have to do what he says.”
“You trust him?”
Dad’s hands tighten on me. “I can’t afford not to. He could’ve killed both of us tonight, but he’s chosen to help us, for whatever reason. He’s our only hope.”
“Or he’ll drive us out of the city and do the job there.”
“No.” Luke’s voice floods with husky deepness. “I wouldn’t hurt you, Violet. I give you my word.”
“Is that supposed to mean something?”
That smirk again. The one I sort of like.
Okay, more than sort of.
“Stop with the sassiness,” he says. “Do what you’re told.”
Dad looks at him sharply, and Luke raises his hands, still holding the pistol. He holsters it with a shrug. “Three minutes left, by my count. You both need to hurry.”
Dad leads me from the bedroom, across the hallway to my room.
I look at the desk, my wall covered in Post-it notes for my studies, the room a testament to Dad’s hard work as a single father to give us a good life.
Now it’s all crumbling down.
“The mafia,” I say dully, as Dad walks over to my drawers. “Tell me he’s lying, Dad. Tell me you’re not involved in any of that stuff.”
“It’s complicated.” Dad looks over his shoulder as he pulls my drawer open. “There will be time for explanations later. Right now, we need to move. Luke’s right. If we hang around here, they’ll send more men.”
“How can you trust him?”
“Because I have no choice. Help me. I don’t know what you’ll need.”
I join him at the drawers, sorting through my clothes, waiting to wake up… and ignoring that shiver inside of me, the feeling that this was meant to happen.
I was meant to meet Luke.
I was meant to stand there in my tank top and shorts as he shamelessly checked me out.
Even if he was sent here to wreck everything.
CHAPTER THREE
Luke
I stand in the hallway, my head a foggy mess of clashing wants and needs.
It’s not just her curvy, young body triggering the beast in me. It is driving my thoughts to carnal places—the shape of her thighs, imagining my hands sinking indulgently into her flesh and sending shivers up to her sex, then slipping my hand higher and pressing down on her crotch.
Rubbing obsessively, as I tell her, You’re mine. You belong to me. Only ever me…
There are other feelings, too. There’s a strange and new tugging in my heart, like something’s telling me I could share more than the physical with Violet.
Her sassiness was beautiful to behold in the bedroom.
She’d make an amazing mother.
I bite down, shaking my head. I can’t be thinking about things like that this soon.
Hell, I was perfectly willing to kill her dad before I saw his face. I’ll worry about that later. Or not at all. Andrew seems content to stuff it down, to ignore it, to focus on escape.
I’m going to have to stifle these feelings for Violet, this potential future she’s opened up inside of me. The darkness bleeds and suddenly there’s light, and I imagine this as our home instead, the pitter-patter of footsteps underscored by children’s laughter. Again, I push away the madness.
“What’s taking so long?” I growl.
“We’re almost done,” Violet shoots back, that same snarky note in her voice.
I wonder if it’s strange how it makes me smirk when she talks to me like that.
Violet and Andrew emerge, Andrew laying her suitcase on the floor. Violet has changed into a hoodie and jeans with chunky black boots, but nothing can hide the temptation of her body from me.
If Andrew wasn’t here, I know I’d do something I may regret. Kiss her, claim her, and obsess over her youthful body instead of focusing on survival. After I’ve driven deep into her soaked hole, I’ll cradle her in my arms and talk to her about the future.
It seems absurd that only minutes ago I was stalking across the garden toward this house, thinking this sort of life would never be for me. Now, I can imagine telling my Violet she belongs to me. My Violet?