Total pages in book: 767
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 732023 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 3660(@200wpm)___ 2928(@250wpm)___ 2440(@300wpm)
No. That’s impossible. Stefano Tacone is all confidence and swagger. Why would he care what I think?
Except I can’t push away the nagging idea I somehow hurt him. Which for some reason kills the post-orgasm buzz I was floating on.
Chapter Four
Stefano
I order room service for breakfast and call down to the front desk to have work out clothes delivered in her size. It’s one of the perks offered at the Bellissimo. I also call the clothing shop in the casino and ask for a fashion consultant to pick out a variety of red dresses to replace the one I cut and other clothing and to deliver them to the room.
Then I get with Al Sampson, the detective who does background checks on people for the casino and ask for everything on Corey Simonson.
“I already have a partial file on her,” he tells me, “from when I ran her cousin, Sondra Simonson. I’ll send over what I have and keep digging.”
“You sending it electronically?”
“Yeah, you’ll have it in two minutes.”
“Thanks, Al. Appreciate it.” I pocket my phone and straighten my tie.
I’ve ignored the naked redhead tied to my bed since my shower, which is pissing her off. I’ll untie her when the food gets here, but for now she can stew.
I don’t know why I’m pissed at her calling out the things that make me a Family man. It’s like I’m that kid in Catholic school again. The one the others are afraid of. The one they whisper about when I’m not there and go dead silent when I ask what’s up.
I never wanted to be that kid. I didn’t get into fist fights—not unless really provoked. As the youngest of five Tacone boys, proving myself was never necessary. And really, it’s not my style. I was more of the class clown. The smart aleck who got sent to the principal’s with a smirk on his face. I generally like people.
And Corey’s like Tosha Davis. The one I wanted to entertain but was never good enough for.
Because her dad was a politician and mine—a mobster.
So now I have the daughter of a fed tied to my bed. One who saw me kill a man last night. It’s not something I’m proud of, but I had no choice. And I want her to see me as something beyond a well-suited mafia man.
Which is stupid.
I shouldn’t give a shit what she thinks anyway, and I’m not entering a relationship with her.
I mean, why would I even think this way?
Except I’m not willing to untie her and let her walk out of my room, either. And if I were totally honest, I’d have to admit only a small part of my reasoning for that has to do with her watching me pull that trigger last night.
I’m usually done with a woman the moment I come. I mean, I don’t mind giving her a little cuddle afterward, but I definitely don’t want to hang around and eat breakfast with her.
So why am I still in this suite? It’s not like I don’t have a shit ton to do out in the Bellissimo.
Jesus, it’s like Nico’s sudden attachment to a woman has me suddenly starting one, too.
Maybe it’s catching. Heh. Maybe it’s some biological attraction. Like the Simonson genes match well with the Tacones’.
Okay, I’m off my fucking rocker now.
“Room service.” A tap sounds at the front door. I point in warning at Corey. “Not a word, amore.” I shut the door to the bedroom to block any view of her.
Once the server is gone, I set her free and give her one of my t-shirts to wear. “I’m having workout clothes sent up and we’ll work on replacing that dress this afternoon. Come on, I ordered us some food.”
I actually hadn’t planned on staying to eat with her, but it’s like there’s this magnetic pull, keeping me here in the suite with her.
She’s unusually quiet as she eats.
“You okay?” I find myself asking as I sip my coffee and observe her.
She raises her brows. “Hmm, am I okay? I got some guy’s blood splattered on me last night, witnessed a murder and now am some kind of prisoner to my boss, who happens to be the guy who pulled the trigger and is also into kinky games. I don’t even know what okay is in this situation.”
It’s my fucking fault for asking. What did I think she would say? But her assessment—accurate though it may be—puts my hackles up. And rather than be an asshole, I decide it’s time to leave.
“I gotta work. You’ll stay here. I’m keeping you close until I figure out what to do with you.”
She shoots to her feet. “What’s to figure out?” She spreads her hands. “I promise I won’t say a word.”
“Thank you. I appreciate your word for it.” I say as I walk to the bedroom and grab the phone out of the drawer where I stashed it. “As soon as I’m sure of it, I’ll let you go.”