Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55748 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“It’s dangerous enough taking you to the ball,” Killian says gruffly. “I’m only doing it because I can’t think of an alternative. I can’t allow—”
“This isn’t about what you can allow,” I hiss. “This is about ending this. About making sure nobody else gets hurt. What if we hadn’t heard? I could be dead; you could be, Clover…” I stroke my dog. “It’s time for you to accept that I’m not that same lost kid anymore. I can handle this. I can help.”
Killian runs a hand through his hair, the hospital lights glinting through it. “You don’t have any idea all the ways this could go wrong,” he says.
“I know I’m putting myself in harm’s way. Am I scared? Hell yes. Am I going to let that stop me? Hell no. Don’t lie to me, either.”
“Lie to you?”
“When you look at me like that, I know you’re proud. I know you think this plan could work. But you’ve spent so long telling yourself you have to keep me out of the mob life, you can’t let go. Well, you need to try. For me. For us.”
He touches my hand again. “You read me like a book, beautiful.”
“I know you could stop me from doing this. You could have the men loyal to you kidnap me, take me someplace else. You could start the war without proof. But you won’t. You’re not like the other mob guys. You know I have to make this choice for myself.”
He groans. “If things go south, I’ll tear apart anybody who tries to hurt you.” That familiar savage look enters his icy blues. “I’ll kill everybody in that room if I have to. I won’t let anybody touch you. Ever.”
“That sounds suspiciously like you think we’re going to have a future…”
He brings his lips to mine, kissing me gently, then whispers, “I can’t imagine letting you go. Dammit, Lucy. Okay, we’ll do this. I trust your judgment.”
Eighteen
KILLIAN
Isit in the back of the limo with Lucy, wishing there wasn’t any extra pressure or danger on this date. I wish we were driving to a regular party, without a mafia war lurking at the edges, without one of my friends in the hospital, and my woman’s business and apartment burned to the ground.
“You look so beautiful,” I tell her, meaning it more than I’ve ever meant anything.
She sits with her legs crossed, her hair expertly curled by the stylist, a light layer of makeup bringing out her natural beauty, the eyeliner drawing attention to the honey in her eyes. She touches the necklace – the hidden listening device – and then smiles at me.
“You’ll be the most gorgeous woman in the entire building,” I tell her.
She averts her eyes. “You don’t have to lie to me.”
I place my hand on her leg, but I’m careful to only touch her lightly. I need my wits focused this evening. My attention filed down to a fine point. Frank and Owen are acting like the fire and the attack was a freak accident, offering no explanation. If they’ve heard about me gathering men loyal to me, they’ve given no sign.
“It’s the truth,” I say fiercely, trying to focus on the here and now, not the dangerous future. “You’re perfect.”
She touches my hand. “You seem nervous.”
“That’s an understatement. For the first time in a long time, I’m second-guessing myself.”
“Yourself… or me?”
“Myself,” I tell her. “What if my instinct about Owen is wrong? What do I have, really? The convenience of everything, the idea Owen planted, the rumors, and the terror in Grandad’s voice when he said his name. It’s hardly concrete.”
"That’s what tonight is for. To make it concrete. But remember, we need to look like we’re on a date at first. We need to dance, mingle, seem natural. Try not to look too invested in me. We want Owen to think I’m just your date, not your…”
“Obsession,” I say, gripping her leg more firmly and bringing my lips to hers.
I love the sound she makes when I catch her off guard with a kiss. The surprise, then the pure pleasure as our lips meet and she gives herself to the moment, is what I love. I love how her body grows needy, like she’s waiting for me to touch her heat, her eager wetness.
She puts her hand on my chest, nudging me away, but I can tell it’s difficult for her to summon the effort… as difficult as it is for me every moment I’m close to her. All I want is to pull her into my lap, let her feel my throbbing length, grind against her until we’re both aching with the intensity of my lucky charm’s first time.
“I’m serious,” she says. “It’s one thing if he thinks you’re a Good Samaritan who’s taken pity on me and brought me to a ball… but if he thinks you’re obsessed with me, he might use it as leverage.”