Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
I pull myself off the desk and sink to my knees in front of him. Gripping the base of his cock, I slide him into my mouth. His fingers thread through my hair, and he watches with inky-black eyes as I suck the cum off his dick and swallow it.
A tremor pulses through him as I lick him clean. I keep going, milking every last drop from him until he halts me with his grasp on my hair.
“That’s enough, bella.” His thumb caresses my cheek.
The warmth in his gaze soaks into my skin like sunlight, and time suspends itself as we stare at each other. I’m on my knees, my mouth still warming his cock while he towers over me. His palm cradles the back of my head as if to say, mine.
This kind of intimacy with him makes it easy to forget our looming problems. Part of me is still screaming to protect myself so it hurts less later. The other part of me leans into his touch like I might die if I have to live without it.
Another loud shriek outside the door ruins the moment. There’s a male voice out there, too, now—so I guess security is trying to drag her out.
“No!” Genevieve screams. “Angelo, help me!”
“Oh, cara.” He smirks as he pulls his dick from my mouth and tucks it back into his briefs. “What have you done?”
I rise to my feet and adjust my clothing. “You told me to fix it if I didn’t like it. So I did.”
“Thank fuck,” he sighs. “I didn’t know how much more I could take.”
“Yes, well—” I close the distance between us, reaching up and straightening his suit. “I’m not playing this game again. The next Genevieve that comes around, it’s up to you to make it clear where you stand. You’re the one who took the vows, and I won’t spend the rest of my life policing other women. If this marriage is going to work, we need to learn to trust each other again.”
His gaze settles on my face, and I know I’m playing a risky game. There isn’t a wife in the Cosa Nostra who would try to tell her husband what to do. But when Angelo hears it from me, there’s a glint of respect in his eyes.
“That’s what you want?” His voice is edged with doubt, but beneath that, there’s something rougher…like need.
My conscience is still whispering that this is wrong—I shouldn’t let him believe this is anything other than what it has to be. But the selfish part of me wants to pretend we live in a bubble where those problems don’t exist.
Before I can answer, there’s a loud knock on the door, followed by Thomas’s voice.
“Mr. Vitale?”
Angelo scrapes a hand over his jaw, exhaling sharply before he stalks over to the door and opens it. Outside, two guards are trying to usher Genevieve to the elevator as she has a toddler-sized meltdown.
“Angelo!” she cries out when she sees him. “Don’t let them take me. I know you want me here.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “I’ll send your severance check in the mail. You’re done here, Genevieve.”
With a nod, two of the guards pull her back and haul her to the elevator while she screams obscenities. On cue, another elevator arrives, and a familiar face steps out. We say hello, and Angelo glances at me.
“Who is this?”
“This is Andrew.” I smile sweetly. “Your new assistant.”
33
ANGELO
Romeo’s call came in when I was busy fucking Abella. I suspect there’s very little in life that could motivate me to leave my wife when she’s stripped bare in my bed. But Maurizio had to go and ruin my fun.
It’s the middle of the night, and I’m dragging my ass down to the woodshed. If it weren’t for the worn path leading to the old structure on the edge of the property, it would look like it had been forgotten. Tucked into the overgrowth, the weathered gray planks are barely visible from a distance.
It’s unassuming, but inside, it’s a veritable torture buffet. One wall is covered in tools that Romeo forged himself, while hooks hang from the rafters. In the center of the tile floor, a reinforced chair is bolted over a drain. The walls are soundproofed, and one lone speaker is the only reprieve from the stretches of silence between the torture.
Romeo thrives in silence. He works best at night, alone—away from the world. But when he leaves, he turns on a heavy metal station and lets it play until he returns—usually to a more willing subject.
My brother is perversely calm when he does his job. Most men wouldn’t have the stomach for it, but oddly enough, there’s something about this that grounds him. It’s the release valve for his rage—over everything he lost when the lightning struck.
In his mind, he figures these men will be tortured anyway, so he may as well be the one to do it. At the back of the structure is a cattle incinerator that Romeo uses to cremate our liabilities. He used to travel to a local hog farm to dispose of the bodies, but he hated leaving the island, so this was his solution. Now, he burns them and disposes of what’s left in a watery grave.