Ravaged by Passion Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Romance Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80503 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 403(@200wpm)___ 322(@250wpm)___ 268(@300wpm)
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Read Online Books/Novels:

Ravaged By Passion

Author/Writer of Book/Novel:

B.B. Hamel

Language:
English
Book Information:

Gavino Bruno caught me stealing from my psychopath boss.
Instead of ratting me out, that mobster pulled me into his lap and kissed me. Gavino is gorgeous death in a sleek Italian suit.
His heart’s wrapped in steel and his emotions are caged in iron, but there’s a warmth beneath the chilly exterior, locked up and hidden away.
Now I owe him my life, and he’s going to make me repay my debt.
I crave that touch and those lips, but getting sucked into his game is a mistake.
I want to strip away his armor and bring him back to the world.
I want his heat to burn my skin and send shivers down my spine. Except sometimes, monsters are caged for a reason.
****If you’re new to the Iron and Lace series, this is the perfect place to start! Ravaged by Passion is a super-steamy standalone mafia story with no cheating, no cliffhanger, and a guaranteed happily-ever-after. Enjoy!!
Books by Author:

B.B. Hamel



Chapter 1

Jeanie

My life is over if Malcolm Strafford catches me going through his desk.

It’s a huge risk. I mean, Malcolm is not the kind of man to suffer minor slights, let alone his employees entering his office and rifling through his drawers. My hands sweat as I sit down behind the massive wooden monstrosity and wiggle my ass on his enormous leather chair. For one moment, I look out at the glass-and-wood crystal palace he calls an office and wonder what it must feel like to run one of the most powerful real estate investment firms in the world.

It must feel great, because Malcolm walks around like he owns the sun itself.

I rip open the top right drawer and start going through it. Pens, pencils, crap like that. I move on to the next one, find a bunch of worthless documents and receipts, and move on, going down until I reach the bottom. I kneel and dig around, searching for anything worthwhile—bank statements, handwritten notes, anything that might reveal a weakness—but there’s nothing.

My heart’s pounding and my hands are shaking. Sweat beads down my back. The office is quiet today because most people took off early or opted to work from home. Summer Fridays have a much more flexible attendance policy. I can’t imagine that was cooked up in Malcolm’s brain—he’s the kind of man that would rather whip his employees, work them until they bleed, and leave their corpses strewn across the desert. The idea of work-life balance must sound like a foreign concept to his ear.

“Nothing,” I whisper to myself and curse as I get up and turn to the filing cabinet on my right. The top is locked, but the next drawer slides out easily. I page through and recognize a few names. This must be where he keeps the papers related to his various current investment projects. I’m only the mail girl, but my job comes with some perks. I get to snoop without much oversight and I can move around the office without anyone noticing. I’m unimportant, which means I’m invisible and nobody thinks twice about handing over firm-sensitive documents.

But it hasn’t been enough and I’m out of patience.

A sound outside makes me pause. I frown, straining to hear anything. Malcolm and his crony Benedict are both in today, but there’s a big meeting happening one floor down, and I thought they’d be in there all afternoon. The executive level is a ghost town, all the offices empty, and I figured it would be the perfect moment to find something I can use against the bastard Malcolm Strafford.

Maybe it’s the cleaning staff. I frown and keep going despite my shaking hands. I came this far and I’ve got nothing to show for it after months working here. I’m not about to leave this office until I make this trip worth the risk.

Nothing interesting leaps out, nothing I can use to hurt Malcolm, and the documents I have in mind are nowhere in sight. As I reach down to yank open the next drawer, I hear another sound—

The door handle turning.

I freeze, completely unable to move my arms or my legs, and stare with a throat-pounding heart as the door swings open. I’m about to explain—I’m looking for something, I’m delivering something, oh, god, please don’t hurt me—when a man steps into the room.

I don’t recognize him, and he doesn’t notice me at first. He silently shuts the door behind him, waits a beat, makes sure the blinds are closed, and finally turns.

He pauses, startled, and I stare back at him. Neither of us moves. He’s tall, over six feet, and his muscular body is stuffed into a sleek black suit. He’s got gray on the fringes of his perfectly styled hair, and his dark eyes stare into mine like they’re trying to break through my skull. He’s handsome, shockingly handsome, almost beautiful. I’d guess he’s in his forties, but he’s got the body of a man ten years younger and the face of a supermodel.

Those full lips tug into a smile and his head tilts to the side as he steps into the room.

“You don’t belong here,” he says casually, his voice low and melodic. There’s a smile in that voice, like he knows he’s caught me doing something naughty and he’s ready to tease me for it.

Fear knifes down my spine, but I have to keep it together. I don’t know this guy, and if I’m doing something wrong then he is too.

“Are you lost?” I ask as casually as I can. My voice comes out squeakier than I’d like but at least it’s not trembling like my knees are. “Did Mr. Strafford send you to pick up the files?”

His smile broadens. “Nice try, but I saw the mail cart out front and I spotted you earlier when I came in. You’re not his secretary.”


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