Total pages in book: 90
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 85490 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 427(@200wpm)___ 342(@250wpm)___ 285(@300wpm)
I nearly lost my fucking mind, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about her for days.
“Focus, you prick,” I mutter to myself and get back to typing. Lines of code scroll past as I start to execute my programs. I check the time: it’s ten past midnight, and unless I fucked this up already, the security system at the Cowpath Lumber Yard should be completely neutralized in a few seconds.
There’s a knock at my door. I glance over my shoulder as Valentina pokes her head in. “God, it smells like feet in here.” She makes a gross face. Her little nose tips up and her big, brown eyes are clearly laughing at my expense.
“Why are you still here again?”
“Because I’m your assistant and you haven’t dismissed me yet.”
“More like you fell asleep on my couch watching Real Housewives again. I’m not paying you overtime.”
“Okay, whatever, but I really am going home. Need anything else?”
I look at my screens. The program is finished running. I type some quick commands and a bunch of diagnostic information appears in my console. “No, I’m good,” I tell her as I confirm everything went well.
“Goodnight then.” She shuts the door and heads out. I need to have a talk with her about staying over too late, but I never manage to bring it up. I’ve known Valentina Santoro for most of my life and she’s like a sister to me. She’s been through some bad shit in the last few years. I don’t really need an assistant, but she needs a job and some purpose, and I guess I’ve always taken care of her like this.
I get up and stretch before I grab my phone. I call Vincenzo’s number and he answers on the first ring. “Got it?” he asks.
“Package landed. I’ll get it open in three hours, give or take.” Meaning: you have three hours to do whatever the fuck you’re doing.
“Works for me. Thanks as always, brother.”
He hangs up. I’m drenched in darkness again. I toss the phone onto my bed and sigh as I stretch my neck and arms. My joints crack and pop, and I remind myself to start taking more walking breaks when I’m working long jobs like this one.
I head over to the jackal mask and pick it up. Valentina did the mold and made the shape, and I did the fine detail work and the painting. It really is a nice mask, and I desperately want an excuse to use it again.
But I can’t do it.
I leave my office and head into my kitchen. Valentina’s leftovers are sitting out on the counter. I pick at what’s left of her Thai food while drinking a glass of scotch. Chicago’s skyline hangs beyond my floor-to-ceiling windows. I drift over to the view, thinking about my little demon again.
She was so fucking perfect. So goddamn gorgeous. And I wish, god, I wish I’d never asked for a clue and set a date to meet again with her instead.
Because the moment she said that she was the artist, I couldn’t pretend anymore.
I wasn’t supposed to be at that party. It was an extremely exclusive, invite-only affair, and when I heard about it through my underworld sources, I knew it was a great chance to get close to the Biancos without them realizing it.
It didn’t take long to break into Cage’s computer systems. I found the invite, made myself a forgery, and also snooped through any emails about the event.
One of which included a juicy little detail.
The artist that night was Laura Bianco, the youngest child of the Bianco Famiglia.
And technically my sworn enemy.
I take a long drink and lean my forehead against the cool glass. I squeeze my eyes shut and relive that sequence for the hundredth time. Laura’s mask, her tight dress, her thighs and hips under my hands, the mocking way she sat up, her body tumbling against my chest, her hands on my heart and our masked faces inches apart. It was erotic, incredible, and I can’t get it out of my head.
For most of my life, I was a top member of the Santoro Crime Family, and we were the most hated rivals of the Biancos. But they killed my former boss, and now I’ve been working hard to put the pieces back together. Several other crime families and I are in talks to form an alliance against the powerful Biancos with the goal of one day ripping control of Chicago and the Midwest away from them.
Which means Laura Bianco is a huge mistake.
If any of my associates knew I saw her again—if word leaked that I so much as spoke to her—
I can’t imagine the fallout.
The alliance I’ve been building would crumble.
My life would be forfeit.
And Valentina would never be safe again.
I make a fist and bang it against the glass. Fuck, why did it have to be her? The strange, reclusive youngest daughter of my enemy? This should be easy—I should hate her—but it’s not, and I don’t.