Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132791 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
“And I’ll be able to break my deal with Achilles.” Tierney tried snatching my gaze, her voice reeking of desperation.
The deal.
Achilles Ferrante’s greatest sin in my book wasn’t even clawing out my eye.
About a year ago, when I kidnapped billionaire Tate Blackthorn’s wife, just minding my own business, as a part of work, Achilles held Tierney hostage for a few hours. We’d ended up striking a deal where she’d agreed he’d choose her future husband, and in return, he released her.
“Nice try.” Achilles afforded her a smile. “Your ass is mine, sweetheart.”
“What do you even care about my love life?” Tierney threw her hands in the air. “You’re gay.”
“That’s a rumor you started,” Achilles said laconically. “Good to see you know how to spread something that isn’t your legs, though.”
“We both know I’m spreading nothing. You assigned me a chaperone.”
“Enough.” Vello’s palm came crashing down onto the table. “You two aren’t the subject. Although, now that we veered off-topic—Achilles, you cannot marry the mouthy Irish girl. She’s impure.”
“Toxic as all hell.” My sister kicked back, crossing her legs with a grin. She wore black Chanel logo stockings and a black dress that wanted to be a handkerchief. “I’m no Eve. More like Lilith.”
My sister was a sight. Men desired her. Women detested her. It made her an extremely lonely creature, even though she had hundreds of fake friends.
“Your behavior is shameful.” Vello’s lips curled.
“I suggest you keep your opinions about my sister to yourself,” I warned Vello. “It’d be incredibly rude of me to kill a man in his own office.”
“Oh, let him vent.” Tierney rolled her eyes, examining her dark nail polish with a pout. “The only time I’m interested in what a man has to say is when my personal shopper calls to tell me the new Balmain collection just dropped.”
“So.” Vello returned his attention to me. “Back to our negotiation.”
“Fuck your negotiation.” Fintan pointed a shaky finger at Vello. “She’s damaged goods. Why should my brother receive someone else’s scraps when he can marry a Mafia princess like Francesca Rossi?”
“Did you just compare your brother to the sitting president?” Achilles tilted his head, his dark eyes dancing with wicked amusement. “My fucking God, I knew you were an alcoholic, but I didn’t know you were a tweaker, too.”
“Damaged goods, huh?” Luca ran his tongue over his teeth.
“You heard it right.” Fintan’s flat tone held no hesitation. “My brother deserves a debutante, not a teenager with a bastard in her womb. He’s the rising king of the underworld.”
Luca shook his head, jerking his chin toward Fintan. Enzo nodded, waltzing over to my brother, grabbing him by the collar, and dragging him down to the basement of terror.
I was pleased Fintan was going to get a rib or two cracked. It’d keep him away from the gambling rooms for a while.
“Why me?” I asked Vello.
“You have a last name and are above killing women.”
“Glowing endorsement, but I killed three.”
Chiara gasped. I never said they didn’t deserve it. Sue me for being an equal opportunity feminist.
“You’re single, powerful, and discreet.” Vello ignored my confession. “And we’d rather fight with you, not against you.”
Prying the truth out of a Ferrante was like milking a cockroach.
“Why isn’t she getting an abortion?” I asked. “Seems easier than pawning her off.”
“Surely, as a fellow Catholic, you understand why.” Vello scowled.
“As a man who has committed every sin in the Bible and invented new ones in the process, I don’t consider myself a son of God.” I reached to grab one of his cigars, running it under my nose. “Truth be told, we’re not even second cousins. Besides, she’s a fucking fetus.”
“She turned eighteen two months ago.”
“Tiernan will take good care of Lila,” Da said earnestly. I didn’t know where he got this idea from. I wouldn’t trust myself with a bleeding houseplant. Not even a succulent, and those apparently didn’t need much water. “He won’t harm her. And this’ll squash all territorial and trust issues between the Irish and the Camorra.”
“Doesn’t she have severe intellectual disabilities?” I asked. “I’m not here to wipe someone’s ass, no matter how beneficial to me.”
“The fuck is wrong with you?” Achilles bared his teeth. “Don’t use that derogatory language.”
I couldn’t help but toss my head back and laugh. Achilles being inclusive was the height of comedy. I’d seen this man rip a person’s asshole with construction tools as a form of interrogation.
My best-kept secret was that I was not, in fact, a bigot. But in my line of work, not being an ignorant bag of shit was hardly a flex. I had a reputation to uphold. I was the man God didn’t want in hell from fear he’d corrupt its residents.
“Lila is self-sufficient.” Chiara straightened her spine, her urge to defend her daughter overriding her disdain for me. She had dark circles under her eyes. “She doesn’t require any assistance to fulfill basic tasks such as eating a meal and tidying after herself, as well as using the bathroom and showering independently. Besides, she’ll be with me all day, every day. She has activities to attend to. Occupational therapy. Swimming. Horseback riding. She’ll barely be at your…” She twisted her upturned nose in revulsion. “Place.”