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)
Jackal’s fingers sliding inside me. My own fingers stroke my clit as the fantasy overwhelms and I come in the shower, gasping for breath. I stare down at the drain, at the dust clogging the edges, and think about what it would have been like if Jackal had let go.
Excitement still simmers at the edges of my body.
I’ve lost my damn mind.
After drying off, I pour myself a glass of wine before bed and check my phone. There’s nothing interesting, just the same old stuff on Instagram and Facebook, and I’m about to call it a night when I decide to check my email on a whim. It’s only ever order receipts and spam, and I’m not expecting much—
Until my heart nearly stops in my chest.
Sitting at the top of my inbox is a message with the subject line Hello, my little demon.
And it’s from someone called jackal@mask.com.
My hands shake as I tap the screen and pull it open. The email address is clearly fake—there’s no way this guy owns the website mask dot com—and that tells me something about him.
Jackal is smart enough to set up an anonymous mailbox using whatever website he wants.
I take a deep breath and skim the words. It’s not a long message, but it leaves me trembling and breathless. I have to down what’s left of my wine and get a refill before I read it a second time in earnest.
I hope you’re doing well and you haven’t taken any unnecessary risks lately. At least, not without me around to keep you safe. Or maybe to give you bad ideas? I can do both, if you want.
We need to see each other again. Come meet me on the roof of Cage, the same place as last time, tomorrow night at midnight. Come alone, and don’t bother with the mask.
I know who you are now.
Isn’t that what you wanted, little demon?
Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.
Until tomorrow night.
Love, Jackal
He knows who I am.
He figured it out. I never thought he would—but somehow, my clue was enough to give me away.
How’s that even possible? There are only a tiny number of people that knew I was the artist that night, and none of them would ever betray my trust. This shouldn’t be possible, and yet he’s right, this is exactly what I wanted. Maybe a part of me knew that if anyone could figure me out, it would be him, and that’s why I gave him enough of a lead to find me out.
Don’t bother with the mask.
Can I really do this? Can I walk up to that roof and let that man see my face?
The Jackal is extremely dangerous, and I have no idea who he is.
And a big part of me doesn’t want to know.
That’s the sickest part of all this. I like that he’s a strange man in a mask. I don’t have to worry about complicated things, like consequences or anxiety or anything like that. He’s only a body and a mask. There’s no face, no identity, nothing beyond a pair of hands, a gorgeous voice, beautiful eyes, and an incredible body.
I leaned off that roof and stared at the skyline, at the stars and the moon, and let him hold me down. I put my life in his hands, and Jackal didn’t let me fall.
No, Jackal only drove me crazy.
Now he knows who I am. He knows I’m Laura Bianco, and instead of running away screaming, he wants to see me again.
Which means he must be as insane as I am.
My family isn’t safe. We’re the largest, most powerful mafia organization in the Midwest, potentially in the entire United States, and I’m the youngest sister of the Don. If anyone in the Famiglia found out about Jackal, they’d hunt him down and tear him to pieces.
If he’s smart enough to figure me out, he must be smart enough to know how dangerous it is to see me again.
Especially at Cage.
But for some reason, the fact that he reached out with a specific plan makes me think he can pull this off.
I don’t know how—but maybe Jackal really can get into one of the most exclusive clubs in the city and up onto the roof without anyone seeing him.
This guy is going to get himself killed.
And I want to be there when it happens.
At least, that’s what I can tell myself, but if I’m being brutally honest, I hope he gets away with it.
And I hope he has another game to play.
Chapter 4
Marco
The back room of Osteria del Sole is thick with cigar smoke and the smell of whiskey. The waitress bustles through, not meeting anyone’s gaze, as she clears the plates in a hurry. I sit at the head of the table surveying my guests and trying to decide if we’re all going to end up murdering each other, or if this insane idea is actually going to work.