Total pages in book: 130
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 125243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 626(@200wpm)___ 501(@250wpm)___ 417(@300wpm)
My tongue peeks out between my teeth when she plays the game with more skill than my brothers and me combined. “Prove it.”
“If you think the threat of attending a charity event in cum-stained pants will have me backing out, I hate to tell you, sweetheart, I’m not known for coyness.”
I twist to face her before acting like I haven’t spotted a blinking red light in the air vent in front of us. It isn’t security from the transport company. My gut tells me this, let alone my brothers’ recent obsession with surveillance.
They’re probably sitting around the projector screen, eating popcorn and taking bets on how fast I’ll slam my fist into Antonio’s nose before tossing his fiancée over my shoulder and dragging her back to my cave to finish what they started with the brutality of an inbred beast.
They’d never anticipate this.
“But if you’re wanting to skip this event, speak now, and I’ll have this car immediately turned around.”
The only time I walk away from a fight is when I’m convinced I can’t win.
It should come as no surprise that this is the first time I feel the odds are too stacked against me to walk into the ring unprepared.
After twirling a tattered bracelet around her wrist, Azra sheepishly shakes her head. Her headshake silently declines my offer, but the pleading spark in her eyes reveals a desire for me to ignore her right to decide for herself—as I’m sure every male figure in her life has done so far.
She doesn’t want to attend this event, but something is forcing her to continue with her ruse. Or should I say someone, since it only took one glance at a frayed friendship bracelet to deny my offer?
Even without the earrings she dumped somewhere in the dressing room, she’s wearing enough jewelry to rival a clear night sky, so not only does her bracelet stand out but it also sparks many questions.
It reminds me that she’s several years younger than me and I still have so much to learn about this woman and the ruse she’s conducting.
After a beat, Azra mumbles, “I just wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted without restraint.”
Only now do I remember what my mother always told me: Personal growth is the most powerful form of revenge. It frees you from negativity and helps you thrive.
If my mother’s theories are correct, Azra needs to make Antonio jealous because she’s not yet ready to forgive herself for the failure of their relationship.
Although I’d sign up for a year of abstinence to learn what Antonio did to make her feel unworthy, I’ve got more important matters to attend to right now. Like building this beautiful woman’s confidence to a point where even if I’m not by her side, Antonio will wish I’d loaded the gun I forced him to perform oral on.
“Did our time in the closet not show you that, micina?”
“It did.” The limousine slows as we approach the gala venue, and she scoots forward. “But I’m still not convinced I’m not dreaming.”
Her shriek bounces around the cabin of the limousine when I pinch her thigh.
“You’re not dreaming.”
Her eyes narrow as a wish to stab me blasts through them. Good. Because her fury could be the sole thing capable of containing mine.
She’ll never move past her quest for revenge if I kill Antonio the instant I step out of the limousine, and my family’s name will remain tarnished for eternity.
I fucking hate that they forced me to look more deeply into whatever the fuck is keeping me on edge, though I’d rather not drag them to hell and back unless it’s to recover a soul corrupted for the greater good instead of evil.
When the limousine stops, flashing lights burst against the windows as paparazzi swarm like moths to a flame. Usually, I effortlessly slip into the role of a charming, controlled, and untouchable mafia figure.
Tonight, I feel like a grenade with the pin half pulled.
The driver opens my door, and I step out, buttoning my suit jacket as if something more ludicrous than a wish to breathe occurred during the commute. I don’t rush around the limousine to open Azra’s door like the attendee ahead of me does. Instead, I signal for the driver to back off before he takes on a task that previously held no appeal for me.
With the driver back behind the wheel, I bob my torso back into the limousine and extend my hand in offering to Azra. She exhales a shocked breath before she slips her hand into mine.
We don’t get near the reserved media area before we’re swarmed by them. As over two dozen paparazzi members shout my name, Azra cozies up to my side, chin high, expression perfect.
The paparazzi are surprised they can photograph me at an event with someone of the opposite sex. Normally, I’m only photographed sneaking out the back entrance with more than one female attendee in tow.