Total pages in book: 93
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
He steps close to me. I stand my ground, trembling as he grips my hips and pulls me against him. His lips bend down and he brushes them across my cheek and toward my ear.
“I know what you’re doing,” he whispers, fingers digging into my skin.
“Is it working?”
“Yes, wife. It’s working.” He shifts his chin slightly and buries my mouth with a kiss. I gasp as his taste floods me, shocking and intense. His touch and tongue are heady and incredible. Even though I should be trying to get away, I let myself sink into him for one beautiful moment, forgetting everything else. Maybe it’s all the coffee I drank or the way that old Turkish woman treated him like royalty, but I’m seeing him differently.
“Then what time do you need to leave in the morning?” I say when I finally manage to break the kiss.
“Early.”
“Can’t wait.”
He glares moodily before relenting. We head back to the apartment together and I’m smiling to myself.
It feels good to win a little battle.
ALLIE
Yeah, I’m in way over my head.
Smoke swirls thick in the air of the dim warehouse. Half a dozen Turkish men with dark hair and darker stares puff on cigars. None of them seem particularly happy. Pallets and wooden boxes are stacked all around. The floor is damp from a recent rain. We’re somewhere deep in the heart of the city, and even though Mass has the whole structure surrounded by soldiers, snipers, and infiltrators, I still feel exposed.
Probably because the criminals we’re meeting with either stare at me like I’m a piece of meat hanging from hooks or they ignore me completely.
The meeting takes place in Turkish. I don’t understand a damn thing they’re saying, which makes it really hard for me to help at all. Lucy’s there and she’s facilitating discussions while Mass leans forward on the table, sleeves rolled to his elbows, looking like a dominant god spending time around poor, pathetic little mortals.
The mood is bad. Everyone's grim. I can tell they’re afraid of Mass and struggling not to show it. Mass, for his part, seems charming but intense. Like one wrong move will make him go ballistic. He’s a caged tiger on the prowl. Beautiful and dangerous.
I’m really happy Rosie’s back at the apartment with Satya.
It’s fascinating watching the conversation flow and the body language of the men as they take their turns speaking. I can’t understand a single word, but that doesn’t matter. I get the vibes anyway based on how they’re leaning toward or away from Mass, how they’re glaring at each other, how one flinches when another talks, how this one keeps fidgeting with his belt, and how that one is more interested in his cigar and liquor than in what’s going on around him. The little cues build up to something bigger.
It’s what I’m good at. What Papa always said was my gift. But because I don’t have a big swinging dick between my legs, I never got the chance to use it.
Now though, all my alarms are blaring.
Mass is busy speaking quietly and directly to one of the men at the far end of the table. He’s only half listening. I lean to the side and tug at Lucy’s shirt to get her attention. She frowns at me like she forgot I was there.
I lean over and whisper in her ear. “The one with the scar on his cheek. I think he’s their leader, right?”
Lucy’s frown deepens. She gives me the slightest nod.
“He hates Mass.”
Her look turns to confusion. Mass keeps talking as she leans over and speaks quietly in my ear. “Mass saved his brother’s life four years ago. Kaan Aslan is as loyal as they get.”
“But he hates Mass. I don’t know why, but he does.”
She considers, twirling a pen between her fingers. We both watch the man she called Kaan listen to Mass with a cold and distant stare. He keeps tapping the table every time Mass says something, fingers drumming over and over like he’s struggling to contain himself.
Lucy’s lips press together. After a few more minutes, she leans over and whispers in Mass’s ear. He glances at me curiously but resumes the conversation a moment later.
I sit back and watch some more. Kaan’s getting more agitated. One of his lieutenants stands up at something Mass just said. I have no idea what or why, but they’re getting upset. Mass seems totally bored by their reaction.
“What’s going on?” I whisper to Lucy.
“I’m not translating for you.” She waves me off, watching intently, and cuts in a few times herself.
Of course her Turkish is impeccable. I bet she speaks a dozen languages and is fantastic in bed too.
Eventually, Kaan slams his fist down on the table and barks a few words. Silence falls over the room. Echoes die down slowly in the cavernous space. Kaan stares at Mass before he speaks very quietly. His body’s tense, his jaw tight, every inch of him screaming hate even if the tone of his voice doesn’t give it away.