Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
I didn’t know that.
“We don’t shit where we eat, Samantha.”
I stare at his hand as I ask the most crucial question, “How many people have you killed?”
He’s quiet for a moment before he answers, “I don’t keep count.” He lets out a sigh, then adds, “But I can promise you, I’ve never killed an innocent person.”
I pull my hand free from his, and leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees and rub my hands over my face.
My voice is filled with confusion as I say, “I know you want an answer from me, but I can’t give you one. Not right now.”
“I understand, but while you think about things, can I at least see you?” He places his hand on my back, and the touch feels comforting. “Since I’m working from home, so the company doesn’t become a target, I barely get to spend time with you.”
True.
Maybe that’s part of the problem. I’m still stuck in the past where Franco and my mystery man are two different people. I’m not getting to know him any better.
Nodding, I turn my body to face Franco and lean my shoulder against the back of the couch.
The corner of his mouth lifts, and seeing him smile makes butterflies erupt in my stomach.
“You should smile more,” I mention.
“I’ll make a conscious effort for you.”
Sitting in my apartment and having a normal conversation with him makes him feel less like my boss.
Franco’s eyes drift over my face, and I see his affection for me shining from them.
He looks at me as if I’m precious to him.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
My tongue darts out, and I wet my lips. “How different you are away from the office.”
He lifts his hand to my face and trails his fingers along the curve of my jaw. “Remember when I said our appointments were helping me as well?” After I nod, he continues, “You made me realize how cold and empty my life is. You’ve added warmth and light to my life, and I don’t want to lose it.”
His words warm my heart, and when his hand wraps around the back of my neck, I don’t stop him as he pulls me closer.
His other hand takes hold of mine, pressing my palm to his chest. I feel his heart beating, and it makes me remember what he said before he allowed me to see his face.
‘Every beat is for you.’
He lowers his head, and as his mouth brushes against mine, the intense connection we have threatens to overwhelm me completely.
Before he can deepen the kiss, I pull back and whisper, “We need to take things slow until I’ve come to a decision.”
Franco nods and stares at me as if he’s trying to memorize my face. After a few seconds, he presses a kiss to my forehead, then pulls away from me and climbs to his feet.
I stand up as well, and as he walks to the window, I say, “You know you can use the front door, right?”
He lets out a chuckle. “I’ll use the window for old times' sake.”
I watch as he climbs onto the fire escape, and when he disappears from my sight, I take a deep breath.
That went better than I expected.
Maybe there’s still hope for us.
Chapter 32
Franco
I know I’ve said I’ll force Samantha if I have to, but it’s the last thing I want to do. Especially after what that fucker did to her.
At least she hasn’t told me to leave her alone.
Where I think quick on my feet, Samantha is an overthinker. I’ll just have to be patient with her.
“I’m hungry,” Renzo complains as we walk toward the back of Angelo’s club, Fallen Angels, for a quick meeting.
“Grab something to eat while we're here,” I mention while I ignore the half-naked women entertaining the customers.
Big Ricky, Angelo’s personal guard, gives us a chin lift and steps aside so we can get to the office.
Renzo stops to shake Big Ricky’s hand, then asks, “Can you get one of the servers to bring me a plate of hot spicy wings?”
“Sure,” Big Ricky replies. “Anything else?”
“Curly fries smothered in bacon and cheese,” Renzo adds.
Big Ricky glances at me, and it has me saying, “Nothing for me.”
We continue down the hallway, and walking into Angelo’s office, it’s to see Damiano and Dario already at the table with him.
“When did you get back?” I ask Damiano.
He looks tired as he replies, “Yesterday.”
“Everything okay in Sicily?”
He lets out a sigh. “Yeah.”
Renzo and I take our seats at the table, then Dario says, “I’ve filled them in on everything.”
“So you’ve managed to get the attention of Vargo?” Damiano asks as his eyes rest on me.
“Unfortunately. Apparently, the man is after Castro and Diaz. He figures if I’m out of the way he can take over supplying counterfeit notes to South America.”