Total pages in book: 51
Estimated words: 48087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48087 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 240(@200wpm)___ 192(@250wpm)___ 160(@300wpm)
Chapter 1
Liliana
My heart was thundering, my body hot in the most uncomfortable way. I’d never been so afraid, never actually feared for my life, but right now, I felt like I was being led to my death by the burly, suit-wearing beast of a man in front of me.
But even if I was scared as hell right now, I knew what I was doing was right.
Because it would save my piece of shit brother and father. I shouldn’t care what happened to them. It wasn’t like they had ever done anything but bring my life stress and caused me to bail them out more times than not.
But they’re family. The only one I have left in this shitty world.
And so, I walked deeper into the bowels of a deserted warehouse that smelled like mold, age, and hints of decay all in hopes I could barter for my family’s lives with one of the biggest drug lords in Desolation, New York.
Matteo Amato.
Smoothing my hands down the too tight shirt and too short skirt, I felt ridiculous. But I needed to show Matteo what I offered.
It wasn’t money.
And it wasn’t because I had any connections that would benefit him.
It was my body and the use of it.
I swallowed roughly, feeling even more ridiculous at the notion a man like Matteo would make any kind of deal with me, let alone a sexual one that would get my father and brother out of the hole they’d dug themselves in.
A moment later, the man led me into a room that looked like it had once been an office. A dented, metal table was off to one side and a tan, slightly rusted filing cabinet on the other. The walls were made of white, peeling cinder block, and the scent surrounding me was a mixture of stale air and disuse.
The burly man didn’t speak to me as he left me in the room.
I paced the length, my temperature rising as the seconds ticked by. Several times I glanced at the door, and the longer I stayed caged in here waiting for Matteo to arrive, the more I told myself this was a horrible idea.
I had to get out of here. I was in front of the door and gripping the handle before the thought even left my head, and just as I pulled it open, about to step out, my body collided with one that was big and hard and smelled like spicy, expensive cologne.
My hands instinctively went to a hard chest, and my face smashed against layers of material. The suit under my palms wasn’t able to hide the steady, unbothered beat of a heart.
Massive, tattooed hands came up and grabbed my wrists. It wasn’t painful, but he used deliberate pressure to let me know he could snap the bones as easily as pulling a turkey wishbone in half.
“I didn’t order entertainment,” the deep, very masculine voice said in clear disinterest.
I tipped my head back… and back until I was staring into the face of crime lord, Matteo Amato.
I wanted to tell him I wasn’t the fucking entertainment, but I corrected myself instantly because that’s exactly why the hell I was here.
God, he was dangerously handsome with short dark hair styled a little haphazardly, strands flailing across his forehead, and piercing gray eyes that reminded me of stormy days.
I tugged my hands free, and when he let me go, I knew it was because he deemed it so.
Matteo stood in the doorway, the three-piece suit he wore not hiding his raw power and muscular frame.
“Going somewhere?” he asked and stepped inside. I saw the beast-man right on the other side, and without looking inside the room, he closed the door, locking me in with a man I knew could kill me and bury my body where no one could find me.
I gripped the strap of my knockoff purse but didn’t walk any closer. I stayed by the now closed door as if it would protect me. A heartbeat passed with neither of us speaking, but I was acutely aware of the way Matteo watched me with a stoic expression.
Dead eyes. That's what he had.
He moved toward the desk off to the side, the metal one that looked worse for wear. The piece of furniture was dented and scuffed with a stack of papers that had a layer of dust atop them. He leaned against the edge, arms crossed, biceps bulging underneath his suit.
He looked dangerous. Violent. He looked undoubtedly attractive in the way the devil was beautiful but pure evil.
“What is it you want?” His tone showed no inclination, his expression still void of emotion.
It was clear he couldn't care less about my presence, and I suddenly felt extremely ridiculous for thinking I could influence a crime lord like Matteo Amato into getting what I wanted. But I was here. The worst thing he could tell me was to get the fuck out. Or maybe that wasn’t the worst but that's the only route I was willing to think about.