Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
I'm a cord pulled too taut, ready to snap.
I stride back to the desk, snatching my keys from the top before stalking from my office. The door slams behind me hard enough to rattle the frame.
Nicolas glances up from his desk, brows furrowing. "Príncipe?"
"I have something to do," I snap, not stopping to explain. "Call if anything comes up."
"Will do, príncipe."
I start to storm away and then stop, wheeling around to face him. "I want the names of everyone on our payroll on my desk come morning."
His brows widen. "Eh, that may take some time, Naz. You have people all over the place."
"Make it happen, Nicolas," I grit out. "Every name. And either find the motherfucker running information to Sullivan, or I'm going to start culling people from the ranks myself. Every last one of them if that's what it takes."
"Príncipe," he protests, shock filtering through his expression. "Half of them have been with you for a decade. They're loyal only to you. We'll find the ones who aren't. I just need a little time, yes?"
"Yeah, well, you're out of time, Nicolas. Find them. Now," I snarl, beyond being placated. If he doesn't find them, I will. If I have to cut through every corner of this organization to do it, that's what I'll do. But I want them found now, before they do more damage.
I storm through the office, my footsteps echoing on the floor. My people scatter out of my way as if they sense the black cloud hanging over me. Smart choice. Anyone stupid enough to get caught in my way might not like the consequences today.
I treat my people well and pay generously for their loyalty. People may think the worst of me, but I'm not a total fucking monster. I actually have a goddamn soul. And I care about everyone I employ. I may not be puppies and rainbows about it, but I protect what's mine. They've always been mine. But today? Well, I just had an abject fucking lesson in how far their loyalty extends to me. And it's not that far, apparently.
I mutter a curse, slamming my finger against the elevator button. Jesus Christ, I need to get out of here.
Thirty-three minutes later, I street park near the School of Law and cut across Shapiro Courtyard to Dodd Hall, long, ground-eating strides carrying me closer with every beat of my heart. Fuck. I just need to set eyes on her. Just a single glimpse to settle the rage rattling around inside me like a demon.
I know it's a lie, even as I repeat it to myself. If I see her, I'll approach her. I'll put my hands on her again. I won't be able to stop myself. She's in my blood now, pumping through my veins like a drug.
Ironic, considering I've never used the fucking things. I supply them to the dealers who do. It's always been one of my rules. Don't be fucking stupid and use your own goddamn product. Rules are necessary in this world. They've kept me alive and one step ahead of Rojas since I took the reins at sixteen, a full fucking decade ago now.
But I seem to be smashing through every single one of them for Brynna Sullivan.
Don't think with your dick? Too late. Don't get close? My motherfucking bad. Don't get involved? Already did it. Don't catch feelings? Well, goddamn. Is that what I'm doing here? Catching feelings?
Is that even a question?
I stroll around the side of Dodd Hall, intending to take up a position in the courtyard to wait for her class to let out…but I don't get that far. As soon as I step around the side of the building, my eyes lock on her alabaster skin and crimson hair. She's sitting on the steps, her face tipped up to the sun.
I pause midstep, devouring the sight of her. Dio. She's a vision, an angel bathed in sunlight. It spills across her skin, making her almost glow.
The rage inside me dies in an instant, the inferno extinguished by something equally as potent but far softer. Affection. Desire. Longing. All three surge through my veins as I stare at her.
The sight of her always hits me hard, but now? After four endless days? It's like coming up for air after being submerged in the darkest depths of this world.
Her hair tumbles around her shoulders in wild crimson waves, like flames dancing in the light. It looks so fucking soft. My fingers ache to slip into it, to wrap the strands around my fist as I claim her perfect pink mouth.
She looks so goddamn innocent and pure, completely untouched by the darkness of my world. And something about that purity makes me ache to put my filthy hands all over her, to claim that innocence as my own. To defile her in every way possible.