Total pages in book: 131
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 126682 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 633(@200wpm)___ 507(@250wpm)___ 422(@300wpm)
The glint in Dante’s brown eyes is calculated. “He already started it.”
And now he’s preparing to finish it.
“Sav’s got a handle on it,” he says, biting into the apple, but under his casual demeanor, I sense his concern.
“Why is it so important that we know what’s in the shipment?”
“To know what we’re up against.”
To know if we stand a chance. “What if we’re outnumbered and out-weaponed?”
Dante’s grin is downright scary. “Then we buy more weapons.”
With money we don’t have. As it is, I downscaled and cut costs to the point of shooting ourselves in the foot. The business needs money to make money. And I have a back payment to a lethal loan shark coming up.
No matter from what angle I look at it, it seems we’re very probably, most likely fucked.
Chapter
Thirteen
Saverio
* * *
I need to change.
It’s almost time for Anya to come home.
I showered in the downstairs bathroom after my physiotherapy session, but I’m still wearing the same sweaty T-shirt and tracksuit pants.
Admitting defeat, I hoist myself into the wheelchair that the therapist purposefully left in the study and wheel my ass to the elevator.
In the dressing room, I pause in front of my closet. It’s been a while since I’ve worn a suit, yesterday excluded. Not that I need to prance around the house in a three-piece and a tie. The clothes just make me feel more in control. I guess I’m not so different from my ex-wife in that regard. That’s why I wore a suit when I got discharged from the hospital. I wanted to show the world I’m still in control.
Opting for a clean T-shirt and a pair of sweats, I change right there in the wheelchair. I don’t bother with underwear. I have to do a one-arm pushup on the armrest just to get the sweatpants over my hips. I’ve just lowered myself back in the seat when Anya walks in.
My gaze locks on her reflection in the mirror. She’s wearing a cute pinstriped blazer with stylish, skinny slacks that end just above her ankles. She paired the outfit with sexy-as-hell kitty heels. She did a curly thing with her hair, the spirals hanging low down her back. The nipples that pebble under her silk blouse where her jacket has fallen open make my mouth go dry. For a moment, I simply sit there, unable to look away or to formulate words.
She kicks off her heels in her stride and dumps a paper bag in my lap on her way to her side of the closet. “Dinner.”
I look at the bag with the fatty stains seeping through the paper. It smells like burger and fries.
“I couldn’t be bothered to cook,” she says with a weary sigh, grabbing a T-shirt and leggings from a shelf. “Since you’re not joining us at the table, I thought you’d prefer to eat—” She looks over her shoulder at the only thing that can serve as a table—the vanity counter. “Wherever.”
I can’t stop myself from asking, “Where’s Claire?”
“In her crib. I left the monitor with Livy.” She opens a drawer and takes out a black velvet bag. “I need a shower.”
My cock takes notice. Because I know what’s in that bag.
When she heads past me to the door, I grab her wrist. “Where are you going with that?”
“With what?” she asks, making big, innocent eyes.
I home in on the color of those eyes that reminds me of sunsets, whisky, and melted gold. “Don’t play games with me. Do you think I forgot where you keep your vibrator? My face is damaged, not my brain.”
“It’s been a long day.” She pulls free and continues on her way. “I need release.”
Fuck.
My dick goes so stiff it leaves my head dizzy.
Like hell.
I dump the food on the vanity and go after her, maneuvering the wheelchair to cut off her access to the bathroom. “You don’t need a vibrator for that.”
“No?” She raises a brow. “Are you offering to fulfill your marital duties? I thought you wanted me to leave. Or did you change your mind?”
I haven’t. Kicking her out is for the best, but I can’t handle the thought of her getting off behind the bathroom door with battery-operated silicone. Not when my cock is so hard I’m going to suffer a serious case of blue balls. Never thought I’d be jealous of a vibrator, but I hate the content of that little black bag so much right now I’m already scheming about removing the batteries and hiding every Duracell in the house.
“You want to come?” I ask, already riding that idea hard enough in my mind to shoot my load.
She crosses her arms. “Step aside so that I can get myself off and go to bed. I have a long day tomorrow.”
“Sorry, treasure. Not gonna happen.”
I go closer, pluck the bag from her fingers, and toss it through the air. It falls somewhere on the bed. Holding her gaze, I pop the button on her waistband and pull down the zipper. She bites her lip and frowns, but she doesn’t push me away, so I take that as a yes. My hand is in her pants before she has time to gasp. I continue where I left off in the study, doing what I never had a chance of starting by sliding my middle finger into the tight heat between her legs.