Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
A soft knock comes on the door from the only daring soul in this building. We both turn to see Andreas waiting. Colleagues hide behind their desks. Nothing good ever comes of having more than one killer in the room. Especially killers who have gotten away with it for so many years with absolutely no consequences.
“Now, get the fuck out of my office. And don’t come back here. I mean it, Crue.”
“How I’ve missed those poisonous lips.”
I all but shove him out the door while straightening my black suit jacket.
Crue and Andreas stare at one another. One predator sizing up the other.
This definitely is not good.
“Mr. Monti, I heard you’ve been in New York for some time. I wasn’t so sure. You’re incredibly hard to find.” And I can feel the edge in his tone, the subtle threat.
Crue’s sharp gaze radiates nothing but malice. “I only show myself to those of importance,” he replies dryly, then his gaze returns to me. “Be a good girl while I’m gone.”
My sharp nails curl into my palms as I watch him leave. I’m unable to say anything because if I do, I’m going to fucking explode in front of all these people.
“Mr. Torrisi, we didn’t have a meeting scheduled for today,” I say with a tight smile. My attention is still on Crue, who is now flanked by two men. Where the fuck were they hiding? Dominic is one of them, and he looks over his shoulder to give me an apologetic grimace.
“We didn’t. I just wanted to go over some finer details for the court case since it’s coming to an end.” He too watches as Crue leaves. “I thought you said you didn’t know Mr. Monti.”
My sharp gaze meets his. “I’m not at liberty to discuss client matters.”
“He doesn’t look like a client.”
Frustrated, I open my door to let him in. “Of course he is,” I say cheerfully. “He’s a criminal with a fat bank account. My favorite type of client.”
CHAPTER 22
Rya
I’m fuming the entire time I get ready. I’m half tempted to rock up in baggy pants and a hoodie just to seriously piss him off. And yet, I find myself in a tight-fitting red dress and my favorite pair of Louis Vuitton heels. I’m no doubt walking into a den of wolves tonight. More disturbingly, I’ll be sitting at the feet of the most dangerous one there.
The driver Crue sent for me pulls in front of what looks like a private restaurant. A bodyguard steps out of the passenger side and opens the door for me, immediately flanking me. I curse under my breath. He cannot be serious. This is precisely part of the reason why I left Italy in the first place. I was done with overprotective men in my life.
But I know it isn’t the bodyguard’s fault. He’s just the damn chump taking orders.
When I reach the entrance, he opens the door, and the hostess doesn’t bother asking for a name before she directs me where to go. When she pushes open the door, the music hits me first. It’s obnoxiously loud. People are everywhere, but it’s not overly packed. It’s a more upper-class nightclub, kind of like invitation-only style.
“Follow me, Miss Ricci.” She winds through a throng of people until we reach a set of stairs. She points up, and I follow her direction with my gaze. I spot Crue straight away, sitting with a few men around him as he leans forward, a cigar hanging from his lips. Acting as if he owns the place. Hell, he probably does. But it doesn’t make it any less unnerving as he watches every step I take. Even when I don’t look at him, I can feel his eyes burning through me. When I reach him, I chance a glance at him, only to find his dark molten brown eyes drinking me in.
He takes two steps to close the distance between us and leans in, his breath a hot flush against my ear. “You might draw too much attention tonight.”
I curve a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes. “You do that plenty on your own, asshole.”
His devilish smile creeps across his face as he blows smoke from his cigar to the side. “A perfect pair, then.”
I take a step back, unable to handle the close proximity of this man. I hate him so much, and yet my body yearns for his next touch. “Show me the evidence.”
“Not until you do as you’re told,” he bites back, then gestures to the men sitting around a table, casually snorting drugs, smoking cigars, and downing whisky.
“So this is her,” one of the men says, raising a glass and taking a drink.
Crue takes a seat at the head of the table as a woman comes over and offers me a glass of champagne. I take it, grateful for its bitter taste. It’s so fitting for the likes of the men I’m with. Looking back to Crue, I find him still watching me with that cigar between his lips.