Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113710 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Keeping my head down has kept me alive, so I’m clueless why I couldn’t walk away when I noticed a little girl in distress. Her eyes were drenched as she fought to free herself from a large, intimidating man breaking her heart one finger peel at a time.
Although it would have been safer for me to ignore her silent request for help, when a child is in distress, I’m morally obligated to assist.
With my heart in my throat, I marched to her side, shoved my finger into the devastatingly handsome brute’s chest, and protected that little girl with everything I had.
It’s not like I knew the dashing suit-clad man was her father, and that she was afraid of a dentist appointment he’d scheduled for her and not the man himself.
Mistakes happen all the time. I just had no clue this one would place me in direct sight of the Cosa Nostra’s most intimidating family, and that Dante Caruso is a man willing to do anything to make me a permanent fixture in his daughter’s life… and perhaps his.
Dante:
I’m used to being the antihero. It’s second nature in a family like mine. I’ve spent thirty-four years surviving in a world where trust is a luxury and loyalty is currency.
I know what it means to be feared and revered, but since becoming a father, I’ve stepped back from the role that’s made me billions.
I want to forge something better for Camille—something that won’t judge her solely on her gender… and the feisty blonde, who didn’t cower like those around her when she spotted a child in distress, could help me achieve that.
My objectives have nothing to do with the fact that the stranger is beautiful, courageous, and tempting enough for me to want to break a five-year hiatus from s€x.
My daughter wants this gorgeously stubborn foreigner in her life, and I’d rather take a bullet to the chest than disappoint her.
Though I’d be a liar if I said I was only pulling out my best tricks to ensure the busty blonde becomes a part of Camille’s life.
Camille and I are a package deal.
You can’t have one without the other.
And I’m about to have the time of my life teaching Lucia Martinez precisely that
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter 1
Lucia
As I leave the dentist’s office, I run my tongue over the once jagged edge of my front tooth and wince. I spent the last hour under bright lights, being patched up by a dentist’s gloved hands. I didn’t feel an ounce of pain, as I made sure a chipped tooth wouldn’t stop me from shining under another blinding light tonight, but now the anesthetic is wearing off.
The dull ache in my jaw reminds me of last night’s mishap. A careless knock from an overeager patron led to an emergency appointment at a clinic that required my real name. I haven’t shared my birth name in so long that I nearly forgot it.
Over the past three years, I’ve tried to reinvent myself as someone who won’t have to look over her shoulder. Today, with my real name on the intake form and echoed by a dental assistant, I can’t avoid displaying the woman I used to be.
All day I’ve been on edge. I hate it. The clinic must honor patient confidentiality, so my records are secure. Even so, an oppressive weight clings to the air, choking me. It’s thick enough to cut with a knife and has kept me walking on eggshells since I arrived in Palermo.
I shouldn’t be so hard on myself. Given my childhood, my unease is understandable. My stepmother would have a heart attack if she knew how I earn a living. Alas, when I suggested going to a shady, revoked-license dentist, my employer rejected the idea and paid for today’s expensive appointment.
I’m thankful I didn’t pay out of pocket for dental work I wouldn’t have needed if a client hadn’t been so rough-handed, but I’ve seen greats go down from a measly paper trail.
My only comfort is that Mother’s judgment would be hypocritical. She raised me to be exactly this way. I just accept money from strangers now instead of men with titles like fiancé, husband, and baby-daddy-to-be.
With my mouth tingling and my confidence just as bruised, I double the length of my strides, eager to get home and wash off the funk before another brutal all-night shift.
The streets between the clinic and the train station quieten around me as the late-afternoon sun casts long shadows, bathing the historic city in a golden glow. Tucking my hands into my tattered coat pockets, I slow my pace. The city’s beauty is a perfect distraction from the persistent ache inside me.
Palmero proudly displays its history. Old sandstone buildings hold stories no one will uncover—some wonderful, others painful. Every experience leaves a memory. What hurts most is how deeply we feel it.
Flaring my nostrils, I enjoy the smell of fresh bread from the corner bakery instead of the antiseptic scent of the dental office. With my senses alert, I hear a commotion at the front of the dental clinic. A little girl, maybe four years old, grips the doorframe of a large black SUV. Her knuckles are white, and moisture is flooding her eyes.
She remains silent while struggling to break free from the brute’s grasp, but her distress is clear. It radiates from her in silent waves.
I hesitate for barely a second, but the guilt is gut-wrenching. My instincts yell at me to keep walking and mind my business. I’ve spent my life bowing down and sidestepping trouble, but the girl’s desperation won’t let me walk away.
I can’t abandon her. My determination to help, even if it hurts, is deeply ingrained.
Still fighting my self-consciousness, I drift my eyes between the spectators circling the little girl and the man breaking her heart one finger peel at a time. Her cheeks are ashen, and salty blobs threaten to spill down them, but no one seems to notice.
No one but me.
After shimmying my shoulders, shifting the thumps of my pulse from my ears to my fingertips, I move forward faster than my hesitation should allow. The man is tall and broad-shouldered, meaning he faces no issues keeping the girl contained with only an arm curled around her waist. His dark hair has that two-hundred-dollar haircut all my clients seem to have. He keeps his beard thick but neatly trimmed, and even with his eyes narrowed into slits, I’m certain they’re deep brown, almost black. He’s attractive—very much so—but also intimidating.
When the girl notices my approach, her grip on the doorframe loosens as relief filters across her adorable, dimple-blemished face.
A mixture of protectiveness and old fear rises within me. I barge myself between her and the man ready to force her to submit—like my father always made me.
The stranger towers over me, easily six five, with a presence that could make anyone shrink. Still, I refuse to back down. Not this time. I could have avoided so much heartache if I’d stood my ground years earlier.
“Walk away. Now.” My tone wavers but still conveys confidence.