Total pages in book: 260
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 245483 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1227(@200wpm)___ 982(@250wpm)___ 818(@300wpm)
I don’t care, I’m not wasting this moment. I can’t. I can hear him chasing me, and he’s right behind me, getting closer. The sounds of his ragged breathing, and his hard steps are getting louder. The world is nothing but flickering colors and madness all around me. I scream as his strong arms wrap around my waist, pulling me into his body and picking my feet off the ground.
I don’t stop screaming for help and viciously kick out in every direction as I squirm in his grasp.
I gasp and instinctively try to reach up to my neck when I feel the sharp pinch of a needle.
“You’re not going anywhere, princess,” he says, and the voice is soothing, although the word princess ignites anger inside of me. I fall into darkness slowly, my hands tingling and body relaxing into a hard chest as I hear him whisper into my ear, “I’ve got you.”
Chapter 7
Gio
* * *
What a stupid fucking mess.
I toss an old box of ammunition aside and drag a bench piled with crap out into the hall. The gun room in the back of my house is surprisingly large and well built, but it's gathered a ton of shit over the years. Of course my father left me to clean the thing out alone while the girl lies there on the floor, drugged and unconscious. I have stacks of old weapons, ammo, and other nice surprises stashed away in there, and it took me forever to finally get the room more or less emptied out. It’s perfect for this. Fitted with a biometric scanning lock for my fingerprint, a small full bath attached and no way of escape, it’s fucking perfect.
When I come back into the room, I can’t help but glance at the girl on the floor. She’s still right where I left her, curled on her side in the corner of the room, and still just as fucking gorgeous as she was a few minutes ago. I can’t keep my eyes off her, even though I know it’s fucked up to have the sort of thoughts I’m having about a woman that’s drugged and unconscious.
The entire situation is fucked up though. A few days ago I wanted to turn the contract down, but my father managed to swoop in and make the decision for me. Now I’m stuck with her, Grace Rossi, and I’m supposed to somehow turn her into a model sex slave.
I have some ideas about how to pull that off, but I’ve never done it before. Frankly, I don’t feel like fucking doing it now. My father has a past in this shit. Not me. But I’m not letting him have her. No fucking way.
All of this is a pain in the ass, especially this goddamn mafia princess. I don’t need her or want her, but for better or worse I’m fucking stuck with her.
My heart hammers as I look over every curve of her body. My princess.
I sigh and drag a few more boxes out into the hall. Duke is snooping through them, and I push him to the side. He wags his tail and looks at me, panting and happy, completely oblivious. I ruffle his head and step back into the room, this time making an effort not to look at the girl.
Standing in the far left corner, uncovered from years of accumulated junk, is a large cage. I stare at it, smiling to myself. It was meant for bears, and I bought it years ago at a flea market. I figured I might have to lock up some asshole that I didn’t want to kill immediately or some shit like that, but I ended up just storing it away and forgetting about it.
Now, though…
The girl stirs over in the corner.
She’s beautiful. Fucking gorgeous. I keep thinking that every time I see her, my memory never doing her beauty justice. I kneel down next to her and gently lift her head up, making sure she’s still unconscious.
I notice the wound on her head and grind my teeth, annoyed. That fucking asshole didn't need to hit her as hard as he did, but he got what he deserved in the end. I beat the shit out of him and his partner, the sick fuck that was kicking her on the ground. She’s a tiny thing in my arms, light and easily carried. I lift her up suddenly, not really thinking about it, and bring her over to the bathroom.
I gently lower her into the tub before grabbing some rubbing alcohol and bandages from the medicine cabinet. I carefully clean and dress her wounds, then quickly check her for others. I need to make sure that the sick fuck didn’t break a rib or cause some kind of internal bleeding.
There’s nothing there, thankfully. Or at least nothing fresh.