Total pages in book: 88
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86883 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 348(@250wpm)___ 290(@300wpm)
God works in strange ways.
I have no doubt I was the target.
It wasn’t a message. It was an assassination attempt.
Somebody doesn’t like me being the new don of the De Kysa.
It took three days to find out Enzo was one of the gunmen. Thanks to Damon, a tech wizard who is loyal to the De Kysa, we worked backward through CCTV footage to find the gunmen. By the time we found him, the second gunman was already dead. Turns out he pissed off the wrong guy during a poker game and was shot dead before I could get to him.
The Draconi said it wasn’t them. The only reason I believe them is because it doesn’t serve them to declare war like this.
Plus, my gut tells me there is a snake lurking out there waiting to strike, and they aren’t Draconi.
No, that snake is a low-in-the-barrel scumbag called Marco V. He’s a drug dealer who thinks he has some clout in this town but he doesn’t. I have no doubt he thinks taking me out will give him some kind of street cred he couldn’t earn any other way.
Thanks to Damon digging up more footage, I know Enzo has been hanging out with Marco V.
“You do this for that stronzo Marco V?”
His eyes flare.
Fucking bingo.
He doesn’t need to say it.
“Fuck you, Don De Kysa, I’ll see you in hell.”
My bullet gives him a quick death. I’m in no mood to play games. The quicker Enzo shifts off this mortal coil the better.
The same with Marco V. He will be fish food before the day is done.
Almost straight away, my phone vibrates in my suit pocket.
Its Dario. He’s the manager of Lair, the club I own in the city.
“What?”
“Don De Kysa, you need to get down here.”
“I’m busy. Whatever it is, you need to handle it. It’s why I pay you.”
“I appreciate that but, well, there’s this woman here and she’s pretty adamant she’s not leaving until she speaks to you."
“Goddamn it, Dario, I said handle—”
“It’s Bianca Bamcorda.”
Well, that stops me.
Hearing her name flips my afternoon on its ass.
“Bianca is in the club?”
“Standing right in front of me,” Dario says, unimpressed.
A flicker of a memory passes through me.
The lingering taste of a stolen kiss.
The lustful grind of her body against mine.
For a moment, sunshine breaks into the ever-present darkness in my head but disappears just as quickly as it appeared.
“What does she want?”
“She says she urgently needs to speak to you.”
I haven’t seen or spoken to Bianca since that night.
The timing of her sudden appearance makes me wonder if she knows something about the ambush.
Is she somehow connected with Marco V and the attempt on my life?
The De Kysa were her downfall. It wouldn’t be a stretch to think she would align with a bottom feeder like Marco V to exact her revenge.
Again, the memory of her lips on mine hits me in the chest.
My sweet little monster, what are you up to?
“Fine. Tell her I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. And, Dario, try not to upset her. Knowing Bianca, she might just shoot you.”
I leave Matteo to clean up the mess and head to Lair.
The exclusive club is in Manhattan. From the outside, it looks like your typical club offering cocktails and an ambient vibe. And for the most part, it is. There’s a gleaming bar full of every bottle of alcohol you can think of. There are dancers in gold birdcages. There are comfortable lounges, tall tables and booths, and a dance floor. But for those looking for a little bit more spice and adventure, beyond the red-lit rooms of the club and accessed only by a long, dark corridor back-lit with pink neon light, is the Peep Arcade.
It’s where guests pay to watch their fantasies play out before them. Where they can indulge their voyeuristic lusts in the privacy of a peep room. For the right price, the glass partition between the voyeur and the performer can disappear and their fantasies can come to life.
It’s a business model that’s served me well financially. But since my brother died and I became don, I’ve had to step away from it to focus on our other interests.
I park my Audi in the underground parking garage and take the private elevator up to the club.
Inside, I find Bianca sitting on a stool at the bar, her long legs crossed, her devil horns hidden beneath an abundance of dark hair. She swivels around when I walk in.
“Massimo De Kysa.”
“Bianca Bamcorda.”
We stare at each other. The last time I saw her, I kissed her, and then some.
I’d like to tell you I’d forgotten it. But I’d be lying.
That night, something unfurled inside of me. Something strange and new and intriguing.
I didn’t act on it. And I never will.
But there was a moment between us that I can’t forget, and right now, the memory of it has got a hold on me. Remembering the way her lips tasted, how soft and receiving they were. The way her desperate whimper hit me straight in the chest. The way I wanted more. The difficulty I had walking away.