Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90511 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 453(@200wpm)___ 362(@250wpm)___ 302(@300wpm)
“Thanks for those three helpful words, but I’m going to need more than that. Can you please disarm the house?”
“No.”
I throw up my hands. “Why the hell not?”
“Because my job isn’t safe.”
That shuts me up. I lower my arms, frustration like an ocean tide in my stomach.
I understood that coming into this. He’s a member of a powerful criminal organization. At best, they exist in a gray area in this city, brokering deals and amassing wealth through shady means. Stefano’s a violent man, and he’s right in the middle of all that crime.
Obviously, he’d have enemies.
Which means he needs lots and lots of guns around like a much more attractive Rambo.
But seeing the gun with my own eyes changes things. He’s not just a violent man. He’s also a killer. What else are guns for? You’re not just hurting someone with a bullet. You’re murdering them.
And the worst part is I can’t even pretend like he’s being absurd.
Because I know for a fact that one of his enemies is sleeping in his own bed and wearing his wedding ring.
I take a deep breath to steady myself. “I want to know where the guns are.”
“Why?”
“Because at least that way I can steer people away from them in the future.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Do you know how to shoot?”
“I have absolutely no reason to.”
“You’ll learn.”
“No thanks. I ride horses. I don’t blow people’s heads off.”
His mouth quirks. Is that a little smile? “I’ll teach you proper gun safety and how to handle a firearm effectively.”
“Like I said, no thank you.”
“That’s the deal. You want to know where the guns are? You have to learn how to use them.”
“You just love making deals, don’t you?” I step toward him, getting pissed again. “Remember the last deal you made? Didn’t work out great for you, did it?”
He comes toward me. I stop in my tracks, heart suddenly leaping into my throat as he lingers inches away. Not touching, but so close one wrong twitch would send him careening into me.
“Who said I lost?” He licks his lips very slowly. “I have a cherished memory to enjoy as I see fit.”
I fight against the blush I feel creeping into my cheeks. “You’re… cherishing it?”
“Every day in the shower.”
“Oh. Wow.” My eyes go saucer-wide as I picture Stefano completely naked, water running off his obscenely chiseled body in soft rivulets, his big fists pumping along his even bigger hard cock— “I mean, no, gross.”
“You said I can’t touch. You never said I can’t fantasize about fucking my wife’s pretty little pussy after spanking her into submission.”
Motherfucker.
I bite back a groan and put space between us. Did it get hot in here all of a sudden? I’m sweating for some weird reason. I can’t imagine why.
“Fine, I’ll learn to shoot the stupid guns. Can’t be hard, right?”
“Easy as point and squeeze.”
“Great. But my personal assistant gets access to our house however I see fit.” I face him again once there’s enough room to breathe. “Don’t try to make some stupid rule about that.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
“Very much doubt that.” I gesture at the door. “If we’re through?”
“Keep Emily away from the mattress, the top shelf in the closet, my nightstand, and the pile of books on top of the chair in the corner of the room.”
I roll my eyes. God, what a crazy person. “Understood.”
“Then by all means, enjoy yourselves.” He’s smirking slightly as he heads over to the bathroom. “I need a shower. God knows I’ll be enjoying myself too.”
I stare as he closes the door behind him. The water comes on, and shit, my stupid brain is picturing what he’s doing in there. But no, Stefano’s not going to pleasure himself with me and Emily standing out here.
Would he?
Stroking his big dick, moaning quietly so we don’t hear, thinking about me?
That bastard. He’s got me thinking about it. And that was his goal from the start.
Chapter 16
Charlie
Stefano sleeps like the dead. The big monster climbs in beside me each night, lays his head on the pillow, closes his eyes, and instantly starts breathing in a shallow rhythm. At first, I thought he was faking it, but now after a few days, it’s pretty clear he was blessed with the ability to flip his power off like he’s got a switch in the back.
Which is the total opposite of me.
I toss and turn. Nothing’s ever comfortable. Pillow between my legs, sheets shoved off, blankets piled on top. I’m never able to turn my brain off long enough for the silence to drag me down.
Best-case scenario, I’m rolling from side to side like a frustrated fish until sleep sneaks up and catches me unaware.
Tonight’s one of those nights, though, where no matter what, I can’t seem to quiet my body. I keep thinking about Stefano in the shower. About Emily holding that gun. About my clothes tucked away in strange drawers, hanging in odd closets, my things scattered all over a house that isn’t mine.