Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 22626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 22626 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 113(@200wpm)___ 91(@250wpm)___ 75(@300wpm)
I’d happily lose my virginity here on the couch, consequences be damned.
Alessandro pulls back, giving me a second to breathe. I'm certain he'll want to take things further, but when I lean in to kiss him again, he shakes his head, one side of his mouth quirking up. "You need sleep. You look exhausted.”
Uh, no? I’m not tired at all anymore. In fact, I’ve never felt more alive. “But—”
“Here.” He picks my glasses up from the table, handing them to me. “Don’t want you blind now, do we?”
“They’re just blue light blockers,” I blurt, keenly aware that the conversation has gotten very unsexy very fast. “I, um … my vision is fine.”
Alessandro chuckles. “Just another part of your disguise, huh? Come on, I'll walk you home."
I'm not sure how to respond, so I nod. Alessandro rises from the couch and holds out a hand, which I take. As he leads me down the hall, I’m a ball of emotions. How can he just stop so easily when a single kiss has me ready to crawl out of my skin?
And now that the seal has been broken, how in the hell am I supposed to work with him like nothing has changed?
I've always known that Sandro was going to be my boss, and that working under him would be difficult. Little did I know it would be the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
3
ALESSANDRO
Two weeks into my new position as the Boss of the Chicago arm of the DeLuca family, I'm finally starting to make a dent in all of the shit Enzo left behind for me to fix. The members of the family here are older and a lot more set in their ways than I expected, but thankfully, I have an ace up my sleeve feeding me information—Emmy Moretti.
Even if I weren't fucking obsessed with her, I'd still appreciate her talents, but I made the stupid decision of kissing her last week and now I'm hard as hell every time I lay eyes on her. It's not like she's dressing provocatively or even trying to flirt, but the possession I feel toward her combined with the memory of how her mouth tastes has me in a constant state of semi-hardness.
And it's making it difficult to concentrate.
We're having a meeting today where I plan to promote a few associates to soldier status, and I've just sent Emmy away to pick up some food for us after the meeting. I'm hoping that adding some new blood that is unwaveringly loyal to me to the higher ranks will help cement my leadership, but I also needed an excuse to get Emmy the hell away from me long enough to clear my head.
I gave her the keys to my SUV, blacked out with bulletproof glass, figuring she'd appreciate the extra safety.
I never thought the danger would come before she even reached the vehicle.
It's a sound I'll never forget, an explosive crackle and roar of a car exploding. I'm in my office on the second floor, and I jump to my feet, running for the window.
My worst fear is confirmed.
My SUV, parked just outside the front doors, is on fire. The entire thing is engulfed in flames, and there's a giant hole where the hood used to be. I'm running before I can even think about what I'm doing. The door to my office slams against the wall as I throw it open and bolt down the stairs.
My blood is pounding and my hands are shaking. The only thing on my mind is the image of Emilia Moretti's body in the flames.
It's not a long distance from the office to the entrance of the building, but it feels like forever. I'm shouting orders at the people around me, demanding a medic and a firefighter, but no one can answer me.
"Emilia!"
I'm the first one to reach the wreckage, and the heat from the flames is already intense. I'm not thinking rationally. My hands reach for the driver's side door, which has been blown off its hinges and lies a few feet away from the burning wreckage.
"Emilia!"
There's no sign of her. I shout her name again, circling the burning vehicle, my heart sinking in my chest.
"Alessandro,"
Her voice is faint, but it's her. Relief crashes through me like a tidal wave. There she is, leaning against the wall of the restaurant, her hands clutched to her chest. She's covered in soot, and there are tear tracks through the smudges of black.
"Oh, Jesus." I cross the space between us, pulling her against my chest. She’s shaking like a leaf. "Are you okay?”
She nods, wrapping her arms around me. "I went back in to get my water bottle." Her voice shakes, and I stroke her hair, holding her tight. "Sandro, if I hadn’t forgotten it—”
"I know, tesoro. I know."
"It's a warning."