Total pages in book: 108
Estimated words: 102546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102546 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 513(@200wpm)___ 410(@250wpm)___ 342(@300wpm)
I could kick myself for not recognizing him in the limo. He looks different but also the same. It’s hard to explain.
His shoes slapping on the marble floor let me know he’s getting close, and I rub my sweaty hands on the T-shirt … shit! I realize I’m barely dressed. I did my laundry but hadn’t changed yet. I’m still wearing his damn boxers.
I could go do that real quick. Sidestepping the island, I go to leave the kitchen just as he steps in under the archway. He comes to a stop at the same time I do when he sees me. Blue eyes drop to my bare feet and run up over my legs, chest, and face. When his eyes meet mine, he’s practically growling.
I don’t have time to process why he’s mad at me because all I can think about is he’s covered in blood. It’s not on his hands or arms. I can tell by the line on his forearms that he’s washed them clean. But it’s splattered on his tattooed neck and clothes. This is what I imagined a Dark King would look like—they slaughter their enemies. I step toward him. “Dillan …”
He takes a step back, and I stop once again, not sure what I am going to do. I’ve grown up with this. Blood doesn’t scare me. I once watched my father and Luca kill a man because he was two grand short on a loan my father had given him. “Are you … are you okay?” I manage to get out.
He slowly nods. “Fine,” he clips, and his eyes drop back to my legs.
I realize once again that I’m wearing one of his T-shirts. “Sorry,” I mutter, grabbing the hem and trying to stretch it longer than it already is. It just makes the neckline dip low, exposing more of my chest. “I don’t have any clothes here. What I wore is in the dryer. I hope you don’t mind …”
“It’s fine.” He looks away from me, his eyes going over all the food I made.
“I thought you’d be hungry,” I say softly, unable to meet his stare. This is so awkward. I have never wished I was locked away in our house in Italy more than I do right now.
There’s a long pause before he speaks again. “I’m going to shower.” I watch his shoes turn and hear him walk away.
I lean against the island and let out a long breath, telling myself that I’m a goddamn Bianchi, and I won’t let the fact that I have a pussy allow him to treat me like I’m a fucking flower.
BONES
REACHING UP, I grip the back of my shirt and rip it up and over my head while storming down the hallway to my bedroom, trying to ignore what I just saw.
She’s in my kitchen, pretty much naked and cooking.
My cock is rock fucking hard while my mind runs through the different positions I could fuck her in.
“Dillan?”
I come to a halt and turn around to find her in the hallway, following me like a lost little puppy. She stands there dressed in one of my Kingdom shirts and nothing else. I wonder if she’s wearing a bra. My hands itch to find out. Instead of tearing the shirt off her, I grip the one I just removed from myself.
“What?” I bark, and she jumps.
“I …” Her silvery-blue eyes take in my bare chest and arms. They slowly run over the ink I’ve covered myself in over the past few years. Most people don’t understand it, but I don’t give a fuck. “Um, I just wanted to see if you were okay.” Those beautiful eyes reach mine again, and I arch a brow. She cares if I’m okay?
Deciding to test the waters, I take a few steps, closing the distance. She doesn’t retreat. I reach up and push some hair behind her ear. “Aren’t you afraid?” Most women seeing a man who bought, drugged, and shipped them away would be terrified if they ever saw that man again.
“I’ve seen blood before, Dillan. And I know enough about the Kings to understand what you’re going to do to make sure Luca is safe.”
Of course, she has. Even though her parents got rid of her, she was still here until she was thirteen. She’s seen enough. Knows enough. “I’m fine,” I tell her.
“Can we go see Luca after your shower?” she asks, her big eyes full of hope.
“No.” I take a step back.
Her shoulders fall. “What? You said …”
“Forget what I said,” I tell her, turning to finish walking down the hallway and into my room. “You’re not going to the hospital. You’re not even going to leave this house.” I enter the bathroom and shut the door, but it immediately flies open, and I turn around to see she’s stepped inside as well. “Mia …”