Total pages in book: 38
Estimated words: 35213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 35213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 176(@200wpm)___ 141(@250wpm)___ 117(@300wpm)
He grabs me around the waist before I can sashay my pleased ass back to the other side of the table. I land in his lap, his erection a hard bulge against my ass. His growl a menacing rumble at my ear.
"Keep splashing sauce on me, and I'll make this entire ridiculous meal more appetizing by eating it off your perfect fucking body, Genesis." His teeth close around the shell of my ear in a stinging bite.
"I'm not a plate."
"You're the meal, tesoro." He nuzzles my neck, sending lava into my veins. Softening me the tiniest bit. "Now, retract the claws and eat, please. You can resume torturing me in the morning."
"I'm not hungry."
"You're eating, piccola fiamma."
"Fine." I grab his fork and take a bite of the intentionally overcooked noodles and disastrous sauce. It's the worst thing I've ever cooked, but it's not even remotely close to the worst thing I've ever eaten. I have a feeling he won't be able to say the same, though. I make a production of chewing, swallow, and then give him a pointed look. "Happy now?"
"Not even remotely," he says far too somberly, taking the fork from my hand.
"Forcing women into domestic servitude isn't working out the way you'd hoped, huh? Pity."
He shakes his head, smirking. "Have you always had a smart fucking mouth, piccola fiamma, or am I just lucky?"
"You're just lucky."
"For some reason, I doubt that." He rolls a bite up on the fork and pops it into his mouth. His entire face turns an amusing shade of green, but to his credit, he doesn't spit it out or say a word of complaint. He eats it as if it's his pleasure.
And I soften a little bit more.
"Tell me something about you."
"There's nothing to tell," I lie.
He narrows his eyes on me. "How old are you?"
"Twenty-two." A thoughtful frown pulls my lips down. "How old are you?"
"Thirty-three."
He holds the fork out to me, offering me another bite. I really don't want it, but I already know he's going to make me eat it anyway. I reluctantly wrap my lips around the tines of the fork, pulling it into my mouth. He keeps his eyes locked on me the entire time, watching me as if he's never seen anything more fascinating.
It's unnerving. And erotic.
"Why don't your brothers help you run the company?" I ask, trying to focus on anything other than the way he looks at me and the heat of his body against mine. If I think too deeply about that, I'm going to see what's really lurking in his gaze. I'm going to soften again.
"Who says they don't?"
"I cleaned their offices before yours. If they've ever worked inside, it hasn't been recently."
"You're observant."
"And you're avoiding the question."
"I'll answer any question you'd like me to answer if you answer just one for me."
"Any question?"
"As many as you want to ask."
I consider his offer. There are a thousand questions I'd like to ask him right now, a dozen mysteries I want to solve. But I already know what question he's going to ask me. Who I'm running from…or why. Either one requires that I tell him about Alexander. It requires the truth.
"If I agree to answer your question, I want a promise first," I say haltingly, as if I'm picking my way through a minefield. I feel like maybe that's exactly what I'm doing. I'm not sure I can trust him…but something inside wants to believe I can. Right now, I think I need to believe it. Because if anyone can help protect me, this man can.
"Name it," he growls.
"You have to promise you'll protect me." I swallow. "Even if it means killing me."
He drops the fork onto the plate with a clatter, his hands locking around my waist as he hauls me up onto the edge of the table. He rises like a sleeping giant, a growl rumbling in his throat as he pushes himself to his feet to loom over me. His eyes lock on mine, his thumb and forefinger beneath my chin to tip my head back.
"I'll burn this world to the ground to protect you, Genesis. I'll kill anyone who comes for you. But I won't raise a hand against you. Not now, not ever." He means it. The truth blazes like holy fire in his eyes.
"You might not have a choice," I whisper.
"There's always a choice."
"You don't…" I hesitate again, picking my way around landmines. "You don't know what the future looks like for me if you're wrong, what he'll do to me. Death is easy compared to that."
"What's his fucking name?"
For the first time in a year, I speak it out loud, giving voice to the monster that lurks in the dark. The one who took everything from me and still wants to take more. "Alexander Santorum."
He knows the name. How could he not? Money recognizes money, after all. In this town, they all mill in the same circles. It doesn't matter if they're mafia like Gabriel or politicians like Alexander. Powerful men like to play with other powerful men.