Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
My eyes widen, and I murmur, “Jenny, I have to go. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay.”
I end the call and stare at the window Mr. Vitale always climbed through when he came over.
‘Don’t touch her.’
His words echo through me, and then I remember how he managed to calm me down when I had a panic attack at the office.
After the attack, he came to my apartment to comfort me instead of dealing with the mess. He lost a friend that day, but he put me first.
Holy shit.
Lowering my face to my hands, I suck in a deep breath of air.
When he kissed me today, he was one hundred percent himself, and I couldn’t push him away. The moment his lips touched mine, I couldn’t hate him.
He’s right. There’s no denying the connection between us.
Thoughts of Mr. Vitale consume me, and I can’t help but love the man, even though I try not to.
He’s a mafia boss. How do I look past the cold, hard truth that he’s a killer?
God only knows what other shady things he’s involved with.
Even if I forgive him for deceiving me, I can’t date one of the heads of the Cosa Nostra. That’s insane!
Right?
Franco
I left the office right after Samantha to meet with Renzo and Dario at Renzo’s penthouse. The last thing I’m in the mood for is work, but the shit needs to get done.
“How did it go with the shipment?” Renzo asks when he hands me a tumbler of whiskey. “I didn’t hear anything about an ambush, so I assume it reached Castro and Diaz.”
“Yes. Changing the routes worked,” I mutter.
Dario places his laptop on the coffee table, and turns it so I can see the screen.
There’s a photo of a group of men, and one of them is circled in red.
“What am I looking at?” I ask.
“Ivan Varga,” Dario answers. “He’s the head of the Slovak mafia.”
“Great, now I know who to kill.” My eyes flick to Dario. “Whereabouts?”
“He was last spotted in Hell’s Kitchen.”
“So he’s not there anymore?” Renzo asks.
“No, he keeps moving,” Dario mutters before pointing at another man in the photo. “This is Miro Vargo, Ivan’s brother. He’s in Miami. If we grab him, it might bring Ivan out of hiding.”
My eyebrow lifts. “Let’s do that.”
“I have a shipment of arms coming in,” Renzo says. “After I’ve taken care of it, I’m good to go.”
I glance at Dario as he mutters, “I’m pretty much open.”
“I’ll check with Angelo and Damiano,” I say.
Renzo drops down on one of the couches, then mutters, “Damiano’s in Sicily.”
A frown forms on my forehead. “When did he leave?”
Renzo lets out a chuckle. “Brother, you were at the poker game last week. How do you not remember Damiano left right after?”
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I’m a little preoccupied.”
“I bet you are. Between your PA and the fucking Slovak mafia, your plate is full.
Dario’s eyebrows lift. “PA? Has she finally left your ass?” There’s a flash of shock on his face. “If you fired her, give me her number so I can offer her a job.”
I level my friend with a dark glare. “No, she hasn’t left me. Stay away from her. She’s mine.”
Dario sees the grin widening on Renzo’s face, then asks, “Your PA or your woman?”
“Both.”
A burst of laughter escapes Dario, and he slaps his thigh. “Finally! I was really starting to think you bat for the home team.”
“The fuck?” I mutter.
He wags his eyebrows at me. “I’ve seen you checking out my ass.”
“The fuck?” I repeat as I imagine strangling his neck.
“Hey, no judgment,” Dario chuckles.
I shake my head at him. “Do you have a sudden death wish?”
“I like flirting with danger,” he taunts me.
I shake my head again, and rising to my feet, I down the last of my whiskey before saying, “I’m leaving before the La Rosa family has to find a new head.”
As I walk to the private elevator, I hold up my middle finger to Dario, who gives me a bark of laughter.
When the doors begin to shut, I hear Renzo say, “One of these days, he’s going to shoot you.”
“Not if he shoots you first,” Dario chuckles.
I let out a sigh as the elevator takes me to the underground parking, and stepping out, I see Milo having a cigarette while Marcello keeps glancing around the area.
We’re all fucking tense since the attack.
As I reach them, I say, “Dario found out Ivan Vargo is in New York. He was last seen in Hell’s Kitchen. Get the men to search the area from top to bottom.”
“On it,” Marcello replies.
We all pile into the G-Wagon, and as we leaving the underground parking, I pull both my phones from my pocket.
There are no messages from Samantha, which has my worry growing. I know she has to process everything, but what if she can’t forgive me?
What if she tells me to go to hell?