Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96170 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 481(@200wpm)___ 385(@250wpm)___ 321(@300wpm)
“Shit, shit, shit!” I hurl an old pair of pliers he had inexplicably under the mattress across the room before slumping down to the floor with my back to the bedframe, my heart racing in my throat.
I close my eyes. All I can see is Luca. His arms around me, terrifying at first, but quickly turning into something much worse. His mouth on mine and my desire like a train repeatedly slamming over me. The second our mouths touched, I was totally finished. I can still feel him between my legs, and my ass is sore from where he spanked me.
“Fuuuuuck,” I groan, tilting my head back and staring at the ceiling.
This doesn’t have to be the end for me. I press a hand against my belly. I never wanted this baby, but I don’t have to let this situation defeat me. I’ve made it through worse. I’ve suffered more than most people, and I’m still here.
Last night was a mistake. Straight up, it was a mistake. Even waking up this morning still snuggling up against him was a mistake. Smelling him was a mistake, smiling at him was a mistake, letting his lips lightly brush mine as he got out of bed was a mistake.
I know better. And I keep screwing up.
“Quit being such an idiot, Fiorella,” I mutter to myself and slowly get back to my feet. “Now, if I were Luca, where would I keep my cash?”
Forget about how good it felt to spend the night with him.
He only said all those nice things because he wanted to get in my pants.
Don’t let yourself get played.
I check the extra bedroom, but there’s nothing. His office has a wad of twenties hidden behind a bottle of nice-looking whiskey in the bottom drawer of his desk. I pocket all of it. There’s more under the cushions of the couch downstairs and more hidden inside an empty chicken nugget bag in the back of the freezer.
In all, I have a decent little haul. A couple thousand dollars won’t feed me and Elisa for long, but it’s a start. I carry the cash back upstairs, pull a bag down from the top rack in the closet, and jam everything inside. As I’m shoving it back into place, I hear the front door open and close.
Luca calls my name.
I flinch and hurry from the closet, heart racing. Is he going to notice the money’s gone? And if he does, what’s he going to think? I’m already starting to come up with excuses. Maybe I can tell him I needed to pay off some debts or I just wanted a little cash to spend on clothes or something. He might not even mind that. Hell, he might even give me more.
Luca’s waiting for me near the front door. I slow as I head down toward him. My heart suddenly races, and my mouth goes dry. He’s so damn handsome. I can almost forget how attracted to him I really am when he’s not around, but standing there, all big and muscular and tattooed, it’s really hard to ignore.
Everything about him pulls me closer.
The curve of his lower lip. The smoldering stare he gives me, like it’s painful how much he wants to crush my mouth with his. The bulge of his chest, the cut of his jeans cupping his tight ass, those thighs like hammers. God, and the ink, terrifying and sexy all at once. Like he doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks about him.
He’s everything I hate. And everything I want.
“I have a surprise for you,” he says, his lips tugging into a little smile as I approach.
God, I hate that.
How happy he seems to see me.
And how I’m smiling a little bit too because his surprises are usually very good.
“Should I be worried right now?”
“Probably, but only if you hate fun.”
“Definitely worried then.”
“Go grab your phone then follow me.”
My eyebrows arch. “What do I need my phone for?”
“We’re not coming back for a few hours.”
I glance over my shoulder and back to him. “I don’t know—”
“Fio, just trust me.”
I chew my lip. No part of me thinks trust should enter into this equation. I trusted a man like him once before, and it screwed me over big time.
But I can’t help myself. With a sigh, I hurry back upstairs and rapidly get changed. I throw on jeans instead of sweats, pull on a decent black top, fix my hair the best I can, and shove my phone into my pocket.
“I was about to come up there and drag you back down,” he grumbles as I skip down the steps two at a time.
I land a little awkwardly and stumble into him. He steadies me with a teasing smirk.
“Then maybe I should go back up and see if you can catch me.”