Total pages in book: 22
Estimated words: 21139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 21139 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 106(@200wpm)___ 85(@250wpm)___ 70(@300wpm)
Never in my life have I felt this way about anyone.
She looks so innocent, but her hips sway with such femininity that it’s almost unfair.
How could any man resist her?
The question threatens to fill me with rage as I think of all the other bastards out there, like Craig, who would do anything to have her. But that’s never going to happen. Isabella is mine.
“I didn’t know mob bosses cooked,” she says, her voice sweet like a Steinway piano.
“Only when we’re apologizing.” I think about Craig getting what he deserved, but it’s not enough. “I never should have let that happen to you, angel.”
Isabella’s eyes stare up at me, wide and innocent. My chest tightens, but my face stays cold as ice. I’m a killer, the boss. Even if I want to show her my soft side, I have to uphold my image.
If I even have a soft side anymore…
“Sit,” I tell her, gesturing to the stools at the marble island. She does, and I try not to gawk like a pig, but the way the hem of her dress rides up and shows off her gorgeous legs has me practically drooling.
It’s like she was designed by a billionaire, crafted specifically with my tastes in mind. There’s not an inch on her that doesn’t turn me on. Not a place on her I wouldn’t put my tongue.
“How do you like your eggs?” I ask. “Scrambled okay?”
“Scrambled is perfect,” she replies. I shoot her a glance.
“You’re not just saying that, are you? To make me happy?”
Isabella shakes her head adamantly, causing her hair to sweep across her beautiful shoulders.
“No, I love scrambled eggs. Bacon too.”
“Good.” I nod. “Then you’ll enjoy this breakfast.”
I turn back to the stove and cook, all the while trying to come up with something to say to her. What is happening to me? It’s like my feet are stuck in the mud.
This never happens. It’s like she’s cast a spell on me or something. Finally, as I’m dishing out the fruit salad, I pause.
“You shouldn’t have seen that,” I tell her. “That…violence.”
“I’m fine,” she lies. I can hear the fear in her voice, and it pains me. I bring our plates over and sit down beside her. Being this close is like a willpower test.
Can I keep my hands off her?
“I don’t want you to be afraid of me,” I tell her.
She opens her mouth but hesitates. Whatever it is she wants to say, she’s not sure about it.
I let it sit there, not rushing her. Finally, she asks a question that completely levels me. “You’d never do anything like that to me?”
Christ, what is she thinking? Does she really think I’m that big of a bastard?
“Isabella,” I say, taking her hand. “I would never hurt you or take you against your will. I need you to understand that.”
Her eyes slip from mine. She looks down, almost like she’s ashamed of what she just said. But I lift her chin, forcing her to look back at me.
“I’d take a bullet if it meant keeping it from hitting you.”
Her pupils dilate. Her plump lips open, and a tiny breath escapes her mouth. Beauty incarnate.
“You…you mean it?”
I nod. “More than anything in my life.”
She could be my queen. I look at her, trying not to show how star struck I am. She could also be my destruction.
Maintaining my empire means no emotion. No weakness. But this woman is working her way under my skin, breaking down the defenses I’ve spent a lifetime building.
Watching her take a bite of my eggs causes my pants to tighten. But then a cold rush of shame hits me like a fist.
She’s only here because her father sold her to you…
If I gave her the chance, would she up and leave me right now? The thought is too much to bear.
I stand up and move toward the counter to grab some coffee, and as I do, my arm brushes against hers. It’s like an electric spark between us.
Keep moving. That’s all I can do. Because if I stop, I’m going to pounce. And I can’t take her. Not against her will.
She has to want it.
“Dress looks good on you,” I say casually, pouring us both a cup.
“You picked it.”
“Yeah, well I shouldn’t have,” I confess, shaking my head as I sit back down. The smooth lines of her thigh have me clenching my fist in restraint.
“Why not?”
Because now I can’t breathe when I look at you.
That’s what I want to say, but I keep my damn mouth shut and just shake my head. I’ve got to keep it together.
“Your mom must be worried,” I say, shifting the conversation. But Isabella just shakes her head and looks away.
Instantly I can see I struck a nerve.
“I don’t know my mom.”
Christ, now I’ve gone and upset her. I’m fumbling all over myself trying to make this girl happy. Maybe I just don’t deserve her.