Total pages in book: 41
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 189(@200wpm)___ 151(@250wpm)___ 126(@300wpm)
I crane her head back, watching her face as a powerful orgasm rips through her. It knocks her breathless. Her eyes roll back in her head. For a moment, I think she may have passed out, but I hear her muffled screams of ecstasy against my hand and know she's wide awake…living her best fucking life on my cock.
I drag her down onto me, holding her there as the force of her orgasm rips my own from me. My seed shoots down my shaft, spilling into her. I'm not wearing a condom, and I doubt she's on birth control. Our lives are fucked six ways to Sunday. But in this moment, I send up a prayer that it takes root and grows, tying her to me in this way, too.
Chapter Six
Domani
By the time we make it back to the house, Finley is exhausted. I carry her straight to the bedroom, laying her out in the bed. She immediately curls up with my pillow, her eyes fluttering.
"Sleep, mio sole. I'll keep watch."
"'Kay," she whispers.
Within minutes, she's out.
I cover her up and stand over her, just watching her sleep. My goddamn heart feels like it's lodged in my throat. Is it possible to fall in love this fast? Once upon a time, I would have said absolutely not. But I've seen love strike like lightning a few too many times to discount it so readily now. There is no rhyme or reason to matters of the heart. Sometimes, you meet your person, and you just know. Other times, love sneaks up on you slowly. Your person is the last one you expected or the one who has been there all along. There is no one way or no right way. There's just love.
I feel it now, rushing through every chamber of my heart. There's so fucking much of it. Cristo. It's like an endless wave knocking me down again and again and again. My heart is hers. For as long as it beats, it'll be hers.
I have to find a way to keep it beating.
Fuck, I have to find a way.
I slip out of the room, heading for the office down the hall. I leave the door open as I slip inside, settling behind the desk. It's been a while since I was last here. This place has always felt a little bit like living in exile for me. I don't come unless I have no choice. I'm used to the concrete jungle. It's what I know. It's where I thrive. I've spent my entire life in Chicago, learning every nook and cranny. But today, this place feels a little like paradise, and Chicago feels like the great unknown. It's an odd shift.
I grab my burner from the desk and power it on. Within seconds, dozens of missed calls and texts begin to filter in. I skim the texts, but they're of the same variety I had this morning. Only, Mattia has enlisted help in trying to talk sense into me this time.
Coda: You need to come back, brother. We can handle this as a family.
Diego: JFC, Domani. Are you trying to start a war? Get your ass back here before we have to tell Rafe about this.
Mattia: You're really beginning to piss me off. Answer the fucking phone.
Forty-five minutes ago, Rafe texted.
Rafe: His fucking niece? You're with his fucking niece?? If you haven't called me back with an hour, I'm sending Coda after you.
Cazzo. Coda is my closest friend. He's also the only other hitman on Rafe's payroll. The man knows everything there is to know about the mafia. And he's more dangerous than me by far. But loyalty matters to Coda, and we've been ride or die for years. If Rafe sends him to deal with me, it'll fuck him up in a major way. Rafe knows it, the bastard. And he knows I know it. He's counting on that fact forcing my hand.
I dial his number, cursing him under my breath. Rafe has always been a ruthless, savage motherfucker. He knows exactly where to hit to make it hurt. And he always knows exactly when to strike. It's precisely why we've always gotten along so well. He's a good man…but he can be a downright son of a bitch when he needs to be.
"You kidnapped his fucking niece," he roars as soon as he answers the phone. Rafe doesn't yell often. The fact that he's yelling now means he's more than pissed. "What the fuck were you thinking?"
"I didn't kidnap anyone. She's where she wants to be."
"You strolled out of his goddamn house with a mask over your face and his sleeping niece in your arms," he says. "That's the definition of kidnapping, Brambilla."
"Did you ask him if she was in that house of her own free will?" I ask. "Because I've seen the rope burns on her wrists. And I know how long it's been since she last stepped foot outside. One year, nine months, eighteen days."