Total pages in book: 33
Estimated words: 30151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 30151 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 151(@200wpm)___ 121(@250wpm)___ 101(@300wpm)
Rico sighed, the sound impatient and annoyed, and then, I was being manhandled into the backseat. Rico slid in beside me, and then the door was shutting, and the back locks were engaging. I was sweating profusely now, my teeth chattering so hard, I was surprised I didn’t bite my tongue.
“Stop freaking out,” Rico snapped, irritated. “I’m not fucking killing you, kid. I’m going to give you a job where you get three meals a day, room and board, and a decent fucking paycheck. Chill the fuck out.”
“I… what?” I finally blurted, not understanding. But hey, he’d shocked me so damn well, my chattering stopped, so that was a plus. I was no longer at risk of losing my tongue.
“You’re getting off the streets,” the other man said as he slid into the front passenger seat. The driver got in on the driver’s side, and then, just like that, we were pulling off from the curb. Turning to face me, the man smiled at me, but it was unnerving and made my gut twist with anxiety. There was something cold and cruel about his smile, even if he was trying to be friendly. “I’m Alfonzo, Rico’s second in command.”
“The man you’ll be answering to and who will be training you for your new position is my personal bodyguard, Niran Chun. He will get you everything you need, including shoes, clothes, and toiletries.” Rico turned to look at me, his dark eyes cold and unnerving. “I don’t normally help people, kid, so consider yourself lucky.”
Alfonzo snorted. “Not all that lucky. Niran is going to chew him up and spit him out.”
“That’s what his job is,” Rico deadpanned, shooting an annoyed look at Alfonzo.
I fidgeted and shifted nervously in my seat. “What is my job?” I questioned, my anxiety spiking again.
“You’ll be part of my security,” Rico told me. “How old are you?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. Seventeen? Eighteen? I don’t have a birth certificate. I was found beside some back-alley dumpster when I was a baby.”
“Where is your mother?” Rico asked, frowning now.
I shrugged again. “I don’t know that either.”
He hummed, and silence filled the car. I didn’t open my mouth again, not wanting to piss off Rico and make him decide to put a bullet in my skull instead of offering me something halfway decent. This was more than I could ever ask for. And even though he hadn’t given me any choice in the matter, I was grateful to him anyway.
When we got to Rico’s huge home, I gaped and actually choked on my own spit. Rico ignored my dramatics and pushed open his door before standing aside, gesturing for me to get out and get a move on. I scrambled out of the car, watching as a handsome Asian man stepped outside dressed in black slacks, a black button down, and shoes so shiny, I could see the reflection of the sky on them.
“I assume things went well?” the man asked.
Rico nodded, then pushed me toward him. “Niran, this is Bento.” I’d been forced to give my name on the ride over. “He’s seventeen or eighteen. No one knows, not even him. No family. He’s our newest security guard. Train him well, but take today to get him fed and settled in.”
Niran took me in with cold, empty eyes, then nodded once. Reaching out, he gripped my shoulder and steered me up the steps and into the huge, beautiful home. Everything was sparkling clean and tastefully decorated. Everyone knew who Rico Martinez was, and they also knew just how rich and powerful he was.
But holy fuck, I hadn’t known he was really rolling in the dough. Not like this.
“What is your last name?” Niran asked me.
“Perez,” I answered, still looking around the place in dumb-struck awe. “Does Rico live here by himself?”
“No,” Niran answered, leading me into the kitchen. “His security guards are here, as well as his most trusted friends. You’ll see Alfonzo around quite a bit.” Releasing me, he pointed to a stool at the island in the center of the kitchen. “Sit. I’ll bring you something to eat.”
With that, he turned away from me and began digging through the fridge, pulling out the ingredients for a sandwich. He moved like a dancer—light, quick, and silent. So silent. And even though he was cold and standoffish, there was something about him that immediately drew me in.
I just really, really hoped I didn’t end up developing a crush on my fucking boss. That would just be fucking great—not. I was as gay as they came, and I, unfortunately, was a goddamn master at forming stupidly quick attachments to people.
Thank you, abandonment issues. Never fucking let me down.
“Eat,” Niran ordered, setting a plate in front of me with two sandwiches. He grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge next, setting that beside the plate. “After you eat, I’ll take you to your new quarters. You’ll shower, and there will already be training clothes waiting for you, which is what you will wear until I find time to sit down and order clothes and shoes for you.”