Total pages in book: 35
Estimated words: 32946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 32946 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 165(@200wpm)___ 132(@250wpm)___ 110(@300wpm)
Draven smiled. There was a lot of shit people didn’t know, and he was more than happy to keep it that way. While he got to be the capo and do what needed to be done, his … brother got to take over. There was a lot of history there, and anyone who knew the truth about them was long dead, and he wouldn’t speak a word of it.
The Boss, Antwone Bianchi, was his brother, or at least half-brother. They shared the same father but different mothers. Where Antwone had been born within wedlock, he himself had been born to one of his father’s mistresses.
Their father had been The Boss. The family was the Bianchi family. Draven was the older of the two.
Their father, for a long time, had been very proud, until everything fucked up.
Twenty years ago, their old man had gotten nervous. He’d gotten jealous of their youth, and rumor was he’d gone on a killing spree. That wasn’t a rumor. Their father had killed his wife, his mistress, and according to gossip, the two sons who had threatened to take over the Bianchi family.
Now, their father had killed both of their mothers, their sisters as well, and he’d also killed several men. When he came at Antwone, the attack had nearly killed his brother. Draven got them both out of there.
He no longer wore the scars from that night. The moment he could, he covered them in ink, not allowing those scars to be a reminder.
Draven, although knocking on death’s door, carried his brother to safety. He didn’t know how he found the strength, but he had saved himself and Antwone.
From that day forward, he vowed to take everything from their father. They would have the Bianchi family as their own. It had taken him ten years to do that.
Draven had already been a cold, hard killer before his father’s attack. The streets made him wise up faster. He became a deadly machine, earning his reputation, and by the time he was ready to take back what was theirs, no one stood a chance.
Only, Draven didn’t become The Boss. It was a title he never wanted. That was always going to be Antwone’s place. Only they knew who they were. The Bianchi name was dead.
Antwone refused to take a name. He was The Boss and he ruled The Family.
Draven knew the attack had killed a part of Antwone. Antwone had been the kinder of the two. In the past few years, Draven knew he’d become cold, dangerous. But, as with Maria, there was still a part of the boy there. If Antwone was cold-hearted, he wouldn’t have given Maria the choice. He’d have killed her on the spot. There was hope for his brother yet.
Draven made his way to the drinks table and poured himself a generous amount of scotch. He didn’t like to drink. Alcohol messed with the senses. It made you weak. Draven was never weak, but upstairs was a woman he’d been curious about. Now she belonged to him, and he could do whatever the hell he wanted with her. That was a temptation which was hard to deny himself.
Chapter Two
Calvin told her to take a shower. He showed her where the bathroom was, which was a beautiful en suite.
Draven had a lovely home, or at least what she had seen of it, which wasn’t a lot, but she liked it. It was cozy, which she couldn’t imagine from him.
His bedroom was large and she tried not to look at the bed, as that was terrifying. She knew what was going to come next and she didn’t know if she was ready for that. When The Boss had given her the ultimatum, she had known sex would play a part, but the truth was, she expected death. Who would want a fat, ugly woman as a wife? That was what she’d been told she was.
She didn’t know what Draven’s game was, but it scared her. The not knowing was the worst.
After Calvin had showed her where the bathroom was, he’d left. Wrapping her arms around herself, she made her way into the bathroom and stared at her reflection.
There were no words of encouragement. He didn’t ask for her story. She didn’t know if she should be relieved or terrified because of that.
Maria forced herself to look at her reflection. She didn’t know what to make of what she saw. There was a bruise that covered the left side of her face. The slap had stung, but the punch had been worse. They had also landed a blow to her stomach, but after that, the guy had been stopped. She wasn’t supposed to be hurt. The Boss had apologized to her.
She had also seen the soldier killed in front of her. He’d not followed orders, and The Boss hadn’t been interested in anyone who couldn’t do as he was told.