Lethal Vows Read Online T.L. Smith

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Contemporary, Dark, Mafia Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 78236 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
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She nods in agreement. “I guess you’re right. Those men, though… those men who are used to so much power, tire of us women quickly and move on to the next best thing. You aren’t like that. You have never settled down because you don’t settle. But I believe when you finally do, it will be because you will have put your all into it.”

“Are you okay?” I ask, concerned. She never talks to me like this. It’s always surface stuff, things that don’t matter to her.

“Yes, of course. I know I suck at this parenting thing. It’s why I agreed to the deal with your father. He was a great father, was he not?”

“He is a great father,” I correct her.

“Yes, of course.” She chews on her bottom lip. “I never wanted kids, but I wanted power and money.” I already know this. “So when you came to live with me, I had to get used to that… to you. And despite my shortcomings, you were a remarkable child and now are a remarkable adult. I’m not proud of a lot in this life, but you… well, shit. You are one of the best lawyers there is, and I am so very proud of you.”

I smile at her, waiting for the backhanded compliment or a request.

But it never comes.

“Thanks, Mom. That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“There is a point.” She holds up a finger. “Just because that man has a great cock and can probably use it, don’t fall into his trap. You are in control. Remember that.”

“Got it!” I nod my head.

“Good. Now, tell me everything because it’s been a long time since a man has looked at me the way he looks at you.” I blush and wonder if it’s just a phase for him too.

Because for me, he’s just another season.

It’s late when the door opens. I’m curled up on the couch, watching Netflix, and half asleep. I don’t have work tomorrow, so I tend to dull my brain and turn it off. And the way I do that is by bingeing something on the television.

I immediately catch the scent of food, and it smells amazing. I look at Crue entering the room with a bag in his hand. He saunters to the coffee table, places the food down, and then pulls the table closer to the couch before sitting next to me.

“You can’t keep letting yourself into my place,” I tell him.

“I can and I will,” he states. Then he turns to me. “Are you planning to have more visitors?”

“No, but if I did—”

“I’ll deadbolt the door the next time I tie you to the bed,” he says casually as he takes the food out of the bag.

“What’s this? And who said there will be a next time?”

“My mother made it for you.” He pulls out two containers.

“Your mother?” I ask incredulously.

“Yes. She’s here in New York and will return to Italy with Angel and Dominic.” He pauses. “And she wants to meet you.”

“I don’t want to meet your mother.” I scoff.

“Why not?” he asks, handing me a container full of pasta. “No meat,” he adds.

I look him in the eye and say, “Because we are people who like to fuck. There is nothing more to it.”

“If you say so.” He winks and digs into his own pasta. I grab the fork he stuck into mine and take a bite. It’s really good. “She’s an amazing cook,” Crue says.

“She is,” I agree. It makes me miss home, just a little. I haven’t been back since I was a teenager because my life has been too busy. But I plan to go back. Hopefully, one day soon. “Why are you really here?” I ask.

“Because you are.” His answer is simple and seems genuine. I focus on the television, but I don’t even know what’s happening anymore because he’s implanted in my brain. And he’s stuck—he won’t leave, literally and figuratively.

I eat the bowl of pasta, and when I’m done, he takes it from me, places it on the coffee table, kicks off his shoes, pulls my legs over his, and then covers us with the blanket. He laughs at something on the television, and I stare at the fine lines around his mouth. He really is a perfectly made human. If I had met him as a normal person—you know, without him killing my boss and all—and he asked me out on a date, I would have thought he was talking to someone else. That’s how goddammed handsome he is. But not handsome in a clean, pretty-boy way. I can see the rough hands. I have felt them when he touches me. He has these lips that you just want to kiss and never stop. I honestly think I could never tire of kissing this man.


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