Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 57287 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 286(@200wpm)___ 229(@250wpm)___ 191(@300wpm)
Two simple lines that made my jaw clench. Even now, with everything going according to plan, he couldn't resist the subtle dig. The implied threat of failure hung heavy in those last few words.
I typed back quickly: All proceeding as planned. Girl is cooperative. Will have leverage on Salvatore within 48 hours.
The three dots appeared, disappeared, appeared again. Finally: See that you do.
I tossed the phone onto the seat, good mood evaporating. No matter how much I proved myself, it was never enough for him. Always that constant reminder that my choices weren't truly my own—they were his. My life had always been a series of obligations to the family. And now, that girl upstairs was just another piece in his grand design.
But she was proving to be a more complicated piece than expected. The security feeds still played in my mind—three days of watching her through cameras, and my men were already falling under her spell. Fucking idiots.
Angelo, lingering during his checks, watching her with those puppy dog eyes. Nico bringing her extra food, sharing stories about her father like some nostalgic old woman. Even Rocco seemed affected, softening his usual edge whenever she was around. A crew of trained killers reduced to lovesick teenagers by a pair of blue eyes and a sad smile.
But I couldn't blame them entirely. Not when I'd caught myself studying those same feeds longer than necessary, watching her pace her suite with a restless energy that made my blood heat. The way she'd press against the window at sunset, all golden hair and curves that made my mouth go dry. How she'd curl up with the few books we'd allowed her, those long legs tucked beneath her as she read. I found myself mesmerized by every little movement—the slight parting of her lips, the way she'd absently run her fingers along her collarbone, how her dress would ride up her thighs when she shifted positions.
Fuck, I'd caught myself rewinding the feeds more than once, watching her stretch after waking, her body arching in ways that haunted my dreams. The sway of her hips when she walked, like she knew exactly what she was doing to every man who watched her. Even the simple act of her brushing her hair became a kind of torture—all that golden silk flowing through her fingers, making me imagine how it would feel wrapped around my own hand.
Those little moments when she thought no one was watching drove me crazy—the way she'd bite her lower lip in concentration, how she'd trail her fingers along her neck when lost in thought. Sometimes she'd dance alone in her room, all fluid movements and rolling hips that made me grip my desk until my knuckles went white. And Christ, the way she'd emerge from the shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel, water droplets trailing down her neck and disappearing between her—
I slammed my hand against the steering wheel. This wasn't part of the plan. She was leverage, nothing more. Not this... obsession that had me watching the feeds at all hours, imagining what it would be like to trace those water droplets with my tongue, to find out if her skin tasted as sweet as it looked.
She wasn't what I'd expected. Most captives broke down or raged. Pearl... she adapted. Made the space her own with the same determination I'd glimpsed during her interrogation. It was almost admirable—if it wasn't so damn inconvenient.
The guards nodded as I passed, box under my arm. I caught one of them straightening his uniform, eyes following my path to her suite. For fuck's sake. I'd have to rotate the security detail if this kept up.
But then I opened her door, and suddenly all my carefully constructed self-discipline threatened to shatter.
She was curled in the window seat, sunlight streaming through the glass and turning her hair to liquid gold. The simple white dress she wore revealed just enough to drive a man crazy while still looking innocent. When she turned at my entrance, those blue eyes hit me like a physical blow.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," she said softly, marking her place in what looked like one of Nico's books. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and my mouth went dry.
I forced myself to smirk, to play the role I'd rehearsed. "Getting comfortable, I see."
"As much as one can in captivity." She unfolded herself from the window seat. The hem of her dress rode up as she stretched, revealing an expanse of thigh that had me clenching my fists.
"Though your men have been... accommodating." The way she said it made my jaw tighten. Had she also noticed how they watched her?
"Too accommodating," I muttered, dropping the box on her bed instead of handing it to her. Keeping distance. Control. But Christ, her scent—jasmine and something sweeter—filled the space between us.