Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106312 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 532(@200wpm)___ 425(@250wpm)___ 354(@300wpm)
Then again, he’s a man with needs, and I’m hellbent on ensuring I’m not the one taking care of them.
Our car ride is filled mostly with him providing me with his likes and dislikes. And I answer some in return, as long as it’s something that doesn’t go too deep. The questions that feel too personal, I just don’t answer.
Without warning or context, Eli pulls over to a seafood restaurant on the wharf. It’s the only one here, and at five in the evening, it still seems closed. Only a few cars are parked outside, which most likely belong to employees. I immediately get the sense this isn’t an ordinary restaurant.
Eli leans over and puts his hand between my legs with an arrogant smile. I don’t even flinch as he pulls a small bag out from beneath my seat. When he unzips it, I see an array of guns and knives inside.
Well, fuck me. I wish I knew that was under my seat this entire time because I might’ve blown his brains out on the way here, especially for that arrogant smile he’s sporting as if knowing my train of thought.
“Take this, and don’t be too tempted to use it on me, Kitten. Be prepared for my family to hunt you down and kill you if you do. And trust me, they will find you no matter where you are.” He hands me a gun, and I slip it into the waistband of my jeans. I purposefully didn’t wear my leather, now that I know how much he appreciates the view. I couldn’t come entirely willingly. “Besides, the moment you turn against me during our little treaty, I will destroy your guns.”
“You can’t do that if you’re dead,” I remind him. It’s as if this fucker keeps forgetting that I’ve been hired to kill him. However, I can’t say I won’t hesitate when the order to take him out finally comes… just because I really need my guns back.
“Ah, but I can. I’ve ordered the twins to take care of it if something happens to me,” he says as we step out of the car.
“Of course, you have,” I say with an eye roll. He circles the car and stands in front of me, squeezing my cheeks in his hands.
“Roll your eyes at me one more fucking time, and I will spank you,” he warns.
“Keep touching me without permission, and I’ll make sure to put laxatives in your drink next time,” I bite back, though it’s barely understandable because of how hard he’s squeezing my cheeks. He kicks up a smile.
“This might get a bit crazy, dear. Consider this your first wifey trial.” He releases my cheeks, and before I can reply with a smart-ass remark, I notice the shift in his demeanor. Any type of playfulness is gone, and the monster has come to the surface.
Okay, we are on some serious mafia business shit.
He strides toward the restaurant, and I follow, not entirely sure what to expect. Are we just here to scare some people? Trade some things? Anything is possible with Eli Monti.
A bulky man, who is definitely not a host, opens the door for us. It’s clear he’s some kind of security guard, and as I do a sweep of the room, there is no doubt in my mind that we’ve just walked into some kind of thug den. However, it is an actual restaurant. Smoke assaults my nostrils, and when I look back at our only means of escape, I realize the windows are blacked out. That explains why you can’t see in.
Eli walks straight up to the three large men sitting at a table playing poker. I trail six steps behind him, and the slight buzz of adrenaline fills me.
I hate to admit it, but Eli knows how to woo a woman.
The thrill of not knowing what we’re about to get ourselves into drives excitement and anticipation into me hard, and I beg for there to be some kind of action. Some sort of release from the mundane life I’ve become stagnant in over the last month. Well, until a certain mafia heir made it his mission to turn my world upside down.
The men playing cards look up at him, and then, just as quickly, they dismiss him, as if he isn’t one of the most powerful men in the city. From everything I’ve gathered from watching him, he is just as deadly as his father. But from the way they’re treating him, it’s as if they aren’t pleased he’s here instead of his father, and I have an acute sense that it has something to do with his age.
These men look well into their sixties.
“Boy, why did you come?” One of them finally addresses him, still with a lack of respect for not meeting his gaze. The old man brings a glass of golden liquid to his lips as he studies his hand of cards.