Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27066 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
I pull the Kentucky bourbon, Irish whiskey, rum, and Irish Cream bottles from the shelf and balance them in my arms while I get the padlock locked.
I try to turn around and find myself unable to. Some kind of dark cloth is thrown over my head, and I am spun around, at least I think I am. The action, whatever it is, is enough to make me drop the bottles in my hands. They shatter as they hit my feet. The stupid sandals I have on do nothing to protect me. What feels like thousands of cuts open on my skin. Though it hurts like a motherfucker, I refuse to make a noise and give this person the satisfaction of my pain.
“Ah, fuck,” a man’s voice says before my hands are bound with a soft fabric, and I’m lifted up into someone’s arms.
My senses are overwhelmed with the manly scent of Sauvage by Dior.
I feel a little pinprick in my arm, and then I feel nothing at all.
THREE
DORIAN
I wanted her so fucking badly that I never left New York. I watched and waited for her to be alone. It took three fucking days, but she was finally alone. In that fucking outfit, letting other men see what’s mine. While I was waiting, I did my research on her. As far as I can tell, she’s never had a man, yet she flaunts her curvy body before men who are so far beneath her that it boggles my mind. Why would she choose to work in a place like that? She’ll never have to work a day in her life again. She’ll be at my beck and call but so pampered in the process she won’t realize that she’s owned by me. I can see our future so clearly. Her by my side as I grow the O’Shaughnessy empire. At my feet, her head resting on my thigh as I conduct business. Being so goddamn beautiful and obedient all the while. Men will want her; women will hate her. She’ll be the perfect queen. My fucking queen. I just have to get her to the point of wanting that.
I hold her unconscious body in my arms as I carry her to my waiting car. I climb into the backseat with her in my arms. Derry turns around from the passenger seat, his eyes wide.
“Don’t fucking look at her,” I growl. He chuckles and immediately faces forward but hands me a blanket. I reach for it and cover her body, except for her feet. “Is there a first aid kit up there?” She’s bleeding profusely. It’s on her shins and feet, and it dripped onto my arms and down my pants leg. I wonder if I left a blood trail in that alley. Fuck, I didn’t even think about that. Her family will for sure think she’s been killed. That’s not what I want. I want to be allied with these people. Marrying one of their women will only solidify that alliance. It could only be here, though. With one look at her, I was obsessed.
“No,” the driver says. He’s not one of my guys. I’m taking a huge risk allowing him to see me with Matilde, but I’m risking it. Besides, I can always kill him later. “But I can stop at a pharmacy.”
“Do it,” I growl. In minutes, he pulls to a stop in front of the pharmacy; double parking near Times Square isn’t exactly smart, but what choice do I have? She’s hurt, and I caused it. That can’t happen again. Physically hurting her isn’t my goal. I want her so broken, so fucked up in love with me; she’ll only need me.
“I’ll go in. What do you need?”
“Peroxide, gauze, Neosporin, and lots of bandage wrap. Get her a pair of socks too. Oh, and tweezers. She’s covered in glass.”
“On it. Be right back.” Derry exits the vehicle and goes into the pharmacy. I should be the one to go in, but I’m reluctant to leave her.
“Sir?” the driver asks as soon as Derry is out the door.
“Yes?” I answer, irritated.
“What is the plan here?”
“Are you a cop or something?” I ask, immediately on guard. This wouldn’t be the first time that someone tried to take us down by going undercover. It won’t be the last either.
“Not at all,” he says, chuckling. “If you plan on taking her on your plane, the flight plan must include her name. I am assuming by the bag over her head that she’s somewhat of a reluctant traveler.”
“My crew will omit her name.”
“No, they won’t. It’s a federal law. All souls must be listed on the flight manifest. The planes get weighed as they take off to check for discrepancies. I doubt your crew will risk federal prison for you. I assume they aren’t directly a part of your organization.