Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 74214 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 371(@200wpm)___ 297(@250wpm)___ 247(@300wpm)
The coffee pot had turned itself off in the kitchen, but the liquid was still warm enough to make a cup. I swore I could feel it bringing me back to life a bit with each sip as I listened to this strange, steady, thumping sound coming from below me.
I moved closer to the door of the kitchen, listening, wondering if maybe it was the washing machine knocking around.
Worried about it, I inched open the door, listened for a second, then made my way down the steps.
It wasn’t until I was at the bottom that I could see into the basement.
Then it was too late.
Because there was the source of the sound.
Dante on the treadmill, running like the devil himself was hot on his heels.
I’d seen men working out many times in my life. Never before had I felt such a gut-punch of desire. I swear I went back a step with the impact as my gaze took in his tight form, his focused face, hell, even the sweat trickling down his neck and chin.
As if that focus wasn’t troubling enough, I had the weirdest desire to go over there and bury my face in his neck, to smell his scent and sweat, to taste the saltiness of his skin.
What the hell was wrong with me?
“Hazel,” he said, panting out my name, which only made me think of another activity that might make him sound like that. Preferably in my ear with his weight pressing me into the mattress and his—
No.
Nope.
I really needed not to be thinking about him that way.
“Hey,” I said, shuffling my feet. “I heard a weird noise. I thought maybe it was your washing machine knocking. I should have, uh, knocked.”
“On the basement door?” he asked, shooting me a smirk as he reached for a crisp white towel and wiped the sweat from his face before taking his water bottle and chugging. “It’s fine. You don’t need to knock around here,” he told me when he finished.
“So, wait. Why do you go to the gym if you have a gym here?”
“I like all the equipment. This is just for situations like this when I can’t go out.”
“We can’t go out?” I asked. Even I couldn’t tell if my voice croaked from fear or excitement at the prospect of being locked inside a house with Dante Grassi.
“We can,” he said, tone soothing, clearly thinking the sound was from the former. “But I told you I would be here when you woke up. I wasn’t going back on my word.”
“Oh, that was sweet.”
“I thought you’d sleep longer.”
“Me too. But I knew once my eyes opened that there would be no falling back to sleep.”
“Been there,” Dante said, finally moving off the treadmill. “How are you feeling?”
“Worse. Like you said.”
“Didn’t want to be right about that. I’ve got some ibuprofen upstairs to help with the body aches. And ice or a heating pad if that doesn’t work.”
“Your first aid kit impresses me,” I admitted.
“I’ve hurt myself more times than I can count.”
“Because of… mafia stuff?”
“Because I spend a lot of time running on uneven roads or picking up and dropping down heavy shit.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“You don’t need to apologize. I’m not offended. I know a lot of people wouldn’t approve of my lifestyle but I’ve made peace with it. So it doesn’t bother me when you ask questions about it.”
“It’s not, you know, confidential?”
“You a Fed?” he asked, shooting me a smirk.
“I’d be a lot more interesting if I were.”
“You’re plenty interesting just as you are. But no. Not everything is confidential. Some shit is. But general things, you can ask about that.”
“Your mom…”
“Isn’t involved. The wives or sisters either. They’re not completely in the dark. For example, my ma knew she was being followed recently by one of my guys. And everyone is going on lockdown for the time being.”
“What does lockdown look like?”
“Mostly, trying to consolidate living quarters so we use fewer guards to protect everyone. So Valley is staying with my mom and Dom is going to be there with them.”
“Is he mad at me?”
“Dom?”
“Yeah.”
“Why would he be?”
“Because I was, you know, digging around.”
“Dom can be a little rough around the edges, but he’s a reasonable guy. He understands that you had no idea what you just stumbled into.”
“Really? Because I think a guy who just got out of prison might be really pissed off that I was going to go to the police.”
“He definitely doesn’t want to go back to prison. But that shit would fall on me, not him.” My stomach twisted violently at the mental image of Dante being dragged away in handcuffs. “You okay?” he asked, brows pinching.
“I… yeah. I’m sorry about that.”
“About what? Wanting someone you thought did a terrible thing to go to prison? That’s a pretty normal reaction.”
“Maybe. But you guys have been nothing but nice to me.”