Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45702 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 152(@300wpm)
It’s clear she doesn’t belong here. Nobody this beautiful, this perfect could be with or hang around a Portello.
But my own needs include taking in more of her, indulging my senses with her front, which, although giving her behind a run for its money, is doing something new for my thoughts on getting hard in public.
I hope she can see.
See what she’s doing to me already.
It really does feel like the whole room disappears when I look at her. As corny as that sounds, it’s something I think that when it finally happens, you know you’re staring your future right in the eye.
Looking at someone, it suddenly feels like I’ve been waiting for my whole life.
It’s clear to me that Portello told her to beat it, but as I make my way over to his table, I make sure to broadcast everything I’ve got to let her know that my eyes are on her right at this moment, and as soon as I can find out who she is and where she lives, they’ll be seeing a lot more of her.
I already know that much, and I don’t care about the consequences.
As quickly as it all happens, she’s gone again.
The door is bolted behind her as she leaves. But I make sure every one of her features is etched in my mind.
A half-smile threatens to play on my lips as I already play the guessing game. Which part of her figure is gonna make me explode once I get a chance with this newfound beauty? My arousal is already aching for her.
But Don Portello isn’t thinking along those lines.
He’s a businessman and gets straight down to it.
Standing in a rare show of respect, he moves over to me, taking my big mitt in his.
He’s unmoved by my size compared to him, and his forced sympathy makes me cringe.
“Rocco, it’s good of you to come,” he murmurs, motioning for me to sit down in the seat he’s just stood up from.
I take it, but only so I can watch my dream girl a few seconds longer as she crosses the street, not looking back.
Good girl. You get clear of this place and these people. I’m gonna find you, and make sure you’re okay.
“I was sorry to hear what happened…to your family,” Portello adds, shaking his head a little, acting as if it were someone else who ordered the bloodbath that even I can still see traces of.
But that’s Portello all over.
A total psychopath with only himself in mind, everyone else is just a cog in his machine.
While he reflects, it gives me plenty of time to slip my hand over the ball of pink paper I saw my girl clutching earlier. I lift it silently from the table and into the pocket of my jacket.
“My father asked me to come,” I tell him truthfully, showing no emotion.
Not letting the rising hate and anger I feel for him bubble up.
No.
I’d rather think about the girl, the one who just left.
The one I have to find as soon as I leave here.
She’s not Portello stock, and she’s definitely not from the life I live either.
And that’s a double win in my books already.
CHAPTER THREE
Jasmine
“See you tomorrow….” One of the men opening the door sneers at me, snickering at his companion.
“…Mr. Portello doesn’t like to be kept waiting, so you better be early,” the other remarks and they both share a cold but knowing look that sends a shiver of fear right through me.
It’s totally at odds with the shiver the man who just walked in gave me, and I already feel the pain of loss because it looks like I’ll never find out who he is.
Probably never see him again.
Despite my yearning for him already, I keep my eyes fixed straight ahead. Walking briskly across the street and vowing to never look back.
But never going back?
They seem pretty sure I’ll be back tomorrow.
And me?
I’d be happier if I’d never gone there in the first place.
That’s until I recall the look my mystery man gave me just now.
Even though he was hard to read, I could tell that there was more than just a passing glance going on between us.
I’m surprised the traffic outside didn’t stop, amazed that anyone else in that restaurant couldn’t feel what I felt.
It’s a feeling I struggle to hold onto with each step away from the place.
Each step away from him.
It feels like the further away I’m getting, the more I feel like turning myself around and going straight back.
For him.
To him.
As if that’s where I really belong right now.
I shake my head, trying to dispel the thought, reminding myself that I have far bigger problems to deal with than just a look from a hot, older guy I happen to pass on my way out.
Mr. Portello….
That’s another thought that’s circling around with all the others.