Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 78044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78044 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 390(@200wpm)___ 312(@250wpm)___ 260(@300wpm)
And so, my father had the windows made bigger, but he fucked up. Sealed our fate. Gave his enemies an easy target because the bullet proof glass that was to be put in wasn’t. Another betrayal.
I killed them too. The pigs who sold him that glass.
I will kill every mother fucker who betrayed us. Who had a hand in my family’s massacre.
“We’ll meet representatives from the families tomorrow. Everything is arranged,” Charlie says.
“How did they take the news?” The news that the Grigori family wasn’t wiped out as Marcus Rinaldi would have you believe. That they missed two sons. The ones who will avenge the murders of our family.
Charlie smiles wide. “They’re thrilled the Cartel is out of the picture and that you’ve returned to take your rightful place,” he says, the note of sarcasm in his tone subtle but unmistakable.
“I bet.”
“We know the two who sided with Rinaldi. We still have the majority of support on our side.”
I nod, walk toward the stairs. “They’re either with me or against me. There will be no middle. Not this time.”
He doesn’t reply. But this is where my father went wrong. This is where he made the mistakes that cost my family their lives.
“I’m going to change. Are you staying for dinner?” I ask.
He checks his watch. “No, not tonight. I’m meeting with a few people.”
“All right. I’ll see you soon.”
I head upstairs and walk into the master bedroom. It’s one of the few rooms that’s ready. I toss my tie aside, unbutton my shirt and tug it out of my slacks. I look down at it. Even on black, blood shows. Luckily it was never my favorite suit.
There’s a knock on the door and I turn to watch a soldier manhandle the girl into the room.
Scarlett De Le Cruz.
Only daughter of Manuel De La Cruz.
Her uncle is right. I should kill her. But there’s something about her that’s got me curious and I can’t quite put my finger on it.
I look her over. Even in the bloody, destroyed wedding dress, she’s gorgeous. A fuck should take care of it. Sink my cock into her warm pussy and then I’ll be over my curiosity. Be rid of her.
“Fucking brute,” she mutters, stumbling when the soldier releases her. He did have a pretty firm grip but I’m sure it was because she asked for it. She seems like a woman who’d ask for it.
He looks at me, waits for my nod, then goes. He’ll be outside. Not that I need him to manage her. I can handle Scarlett De La Cruz with one hand tied behind my back.
We study each other and for a moment, I see her on her knees at my feet again begging me to spare her brother. Not a word about herself.
She’s out of breath from the haul up the stairs or from her fight with the soldier. Not very smart if she wasted her energy on that.
I continue to strip off my clothes, undoing my cuffs and two buttons on the front before pulling it off over my head. I follow her eyes as they take me in, her eyebrows knitting together momentarily, forehead wrinkling. Not sure if it’s at that tattoos or the scars, but either way I stand there and let her have a good look. While she does, I do the same. I study her because there’s something in those honey-colored eyes I don’t understand. Something that goes against everything I have learned is true.
But fuck that shit.
Pretty girls are a dime a dozen. There’s nothing special about this one. She makes my dick hard. That’s all I have to worry about.
“Take off your dress,” I tell her.
Her eyes narrow and she cocks her head to the side. She’s petulant. A pain in the ass.
But a nagging voice tells me there’s more than those things. It’d be simple if she were just those things. And I know exactly what it is. She’s loyal. A trait not easily come by in my line of work. She humiliated herself, threw herself at my feet to save her brother.
It’s too bad she’s loyal to the wrong side.
“Are you hard of hearing?” I ask.
She just glares.
I gesture to the gown. “It’s dirty. You’re covered in blood and brains. Not to mention it’s fucking ugly. I don’t want you to dirty my things.”
Her eyebrows rise on her forehead. “You don’t want me to dirty your things?”
“Correct.”
“I want my veil. Your goon wouldn’t let me get my veil before he dragged me out of there.”
I snort at that, take off my shoes and socks, undo my belt and pants. I turn and walk toward the bathroom, stopping at the door to look back at her momentarily.
“I thought you were forced to marry Rinaldi. Isn’t that what you said? Or was it a lie to save your neck? So why in hell would you want any remembrance of the supposedly forced nuptials I interrupted.”