Because I Need You Read Online Claire Contreras

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Mafia, Romance Tags Authors:

Total pages in book: 111
Estimated words: 107232 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 536(@200wpm)___ 429(@250wpm)___ 357(@300wpm)

Read Online Books/Novels:

Because I Need You

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

Claire Contreras

Book Information:

From New York Times best-seller Claire Contreras comes a new, sexy stand-alone mafia romance novel . . .
Isabel Bonetti –
One minute I’m mourning the sudden death of my father, and the next, I’m getting calls from a lawyer saying they needed to read me my father’s will.
As far as I know, my father didn’t have much to leave. He was a blue-collar worker, through and through. Or so I thought.
Everything topples down at once, the inheritance I’m left with and the truth about what my father did, but the biggest shock of all was finding out he’d married me off to a complete stranger without my consent.
By the time I show up at my supposed husband’s nightclub, I’m determined to leave with divorce papers signed, but nothing can prepare me for the man that awaits me on the other side of those doors.
Giovanni Masseria –
My father has done a lot of messed up stuff, but marrying me off to Charles Bonetti’s daughter, a complete stranger, may take the cake. I didn’t even know old Bonetti had a daughter and I want nothing to do with her or this marriage, until I’m told what staying married to her would mean for the empire I’m slowly trying to build. There’s no harm in staying married a little longer if it means I’ll cash out on those promises. I decide that I’ll cut ties with her as soon as that’s done.
That is, until barges into my office demanding a divorce. I wasn’t sure what I’d expected her to be like, but it certainly wasn’t . . . this.
A week ago, I didn’t know of her existence, and now, I can’t seem to escape her presence anywhere I go.
She doesn’t belong in this world and I know this won’t end well for either of us, but I can’t seem to stop reminding her who I am. Her husband.
Books by Author:

Claire Contreras



The past ten days were a blur. I felt like I’d been struck by a force that was too great for me to bear. It wasn’t just the loss of my father. It was the terrifying way in which it happened. To have him, a force of nature, just collapse in the kitchen right in front of me right after telling a joke. The ride to the hospital was shocking, and leaving without him after being told he was “gone,” even more so. That was how the doctor said it, too, before he gave me a moment alone with my father. “I’m so sorry. He’s gone.” GONE WHERE? I’d demanded. GONE WHERE? I knew it was an impossible question to answer, nearly an impossible thing to consider without delving deep into existentialism and religion, and yet, I’d rather deep dive into both of those than let him go. I wasn’t ready to do that, and I needed an answer. The days that followed had been much muddier than that. Thankfully, Dad had his funeral arrangements all planned out, from the service to the casket to the burial plot. I was grateful for his foresight, because I’d never had to plan one before, and I wouldn’t even have known where to start.

The actual funeral brought more questions, more blurred memories. I’d expected his employees to show up. I hadn’t expected more than fifty men in dark suits to be there. Men who were hard and rough around the edges. I’d only recognized a handful of guys my father employed in his painting company. The rest were just bodies. Each of them squeezed my shoulder as they walked through and said a sentiment. I’d clung onto William the entire time, kept my face mostly buried in the sleeve of his suit jacket, grateful I hadn’t been completely alone. My boyfriend had enough things on his plate, but he set them all aside to be there for me that day.

Later, he asked who all those men were, and I didn’t know how to answer him. I shrugged. I’d never seen them. William said nothing to that, but insisted I go back home to New York with him. I told him I couldn’t, since I had to figure out what to do with my father’s things. I was his only family, after all. If I didn’t do it, who would? Shortly after Will had gone back to New York, I received a call from my father’s attorney — I didn’t even know my father had one — telling me to go to their offices so they could read me his will. Considering my father had a small painting company, and lived in a modest three-bedroom, I couldn’t imagine what he’d left behind. The house, sure. His old red Ford truck, maybe. Both things I did not want. I just wanted my dad to come home. I wanted him to make up for all of the years we’d lost while he was working in Chicago, and I was living with my grandmother in Miami and later New York. So many years compounded into occasional weekend visits instead of the day-to-day presence that I needed. He’d just started making up for it, too. He’d just started visiting me more and asking me to visit him more. I’d been in Chicago for five days when it happened. I’d planned to stay the entire summer while I was on break from teaching. And now he was gone. Just like that. I willed the unshed tears that burned my eyes away.

“Isabel Bonetti.”

I snapped back to the present at the sound of my name and swallowed as I stood up and followed the woman to a conference room. I stood by the door for a moment, assessing the room. There was one man in a suit and one woman, also in a suit. Both were standing on the other end of the room, an odd sympathetic smile on their faces. A fake one, really. Besides teaching middle school, I was dating the current — and youngest — mayor. I was used to being in a room full of assholes. This room, however, felt different. There was a certain uneasy charge to it, as though both of them knew that I was in the dark about whatever they were about to tell me.

“Thank you for coming in, Ms. Bonetti,” the man said, “I’m terribly sorry for your loss.”

I nodded in appreciation. I couldn’t thank one more person verbally for that statement and I shouldn’t have to. I shouldn’t have been here at all. I pushed that feeling back.

“I’m sure this is a lot for you,” the woman said.

“I’m not sure what I’m dealing with, so I can’t say whether or not it’s a lot yet.” I walked over.

“I’m Dave Hunt,” he said. “This is Parker Evans.”