Total pages in book: 119
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 109882 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 549(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 366(@300wpm)
Never with him.
He didn’t want to go as friends, didn’t want to go and just enjoy ourselves and the atmosphere. It was very clear by the set of his jaw and the way he continued to look at me that he wanted me to go for a specific reason.
To have enough drinks that taking me home would be a sure thing, in his eyes.
He didn’t say anything, and his expression didn’t reveal his thoughts, but I did notice the slight clench of his jaw before he plastered on a fake-as-hell smile.
Definitely not used to being turned down, that was for sure.
“I’ll take that raincheck.” His grin was even wider, and I didn’t stop myself from lowering my brows in what was no doubt a confused look.
I was about to clear that up as well, tell him I was in a relationship—even though I’d only gone on the one date and we certainly hadn’t talked about anything serious—but Stephan gave me a wink and sauntered off before I could utter a word.
He made a beeline right to Suzanna, another staff worker at Seeking Curves, and instantly his charm was slapped right back on. I could only shake my head, thankful he latched his attention onto someone else, and it was clear Suzanna was all about that attention.
I pulled my attention back toward my computer and started working, but as they did since Enzo had come up and asked me out, my thoughts and concentration all went toward him.
And the scariest part of all, I was coming to find out, was that Enzo knew the effect he had on me… and I was pretty sure it was exactly what he wanted.
I was exactly where he wanted me.
Chapter
Nine
Enzo
I stepped through the open doorway in the rundown warehouse The Family used for less savory endeavors that needed handling.
Several of my men were already in the room, their stances easygoing, even if there was fierce desire for bloodshed in their eyes.
A few more soldiers followed behind me. Normally, there were only a couple of men around during the interrogation and torture of an enemy, but I supposed tonight was special, seeing as I’d be taking part in the fun.
I zeroed in on Mario. He was already sitting, his feet tied with rope to the legs of the wooden chair, his hands secured behind him. He had a swollen lip, and his left eye was closed and black and blue, dried blood smeared along the side of his face.
Francisco stood behind Mario, a grin on his face. I was pretty sure I’d never met a human more sadistic than Francisco, and even if it wasn’t my style of delivering pain when it wasn’t due, Francisco got off on it.
I stopped in front of Mario, who at this point had his head tipped back and his one good eye trained right on me. I said nothing as I uncuffed the left sleeve of my shirt and started slowly rolling it up my forearm, my focus never leaving him. I could feel the tension radiate throughout the room, my soldiers shifting from foot to foot, their excitement over what was to come saturating the air.
“Mario.” I said his name slowly as I undid the cuff of my other sleeve, focusing on rolling the crisp, expensive material up. “You’ve caused us quite a bit of trouble.”
When both my sleeves were above my elbows, I glanced up at him then. I looked at the rust-colored blood that had dried to a caked-on smear across his face, the fresh red, viscous fluid still dripping out of the wounds that marred his lip and above his eye.
“I should’ve changed my shirt,” I murmured absentmindedly and looked down at my white Oxford. “It’s going to be stained.” My voice was monotone, void of any emotion. Because I felt none at this moment.
A few of my soldiers cleared their throats, maybe getting the sense that although outwardly I was collected and calm, inside, I was brutal and would show no mercy.
“Nothing to say?” I said again when Mario kept quiet. He shifted on the seat as much as he could since being restrained, the old, wooden chair rattling against the ground from the uneven legs.
“What can I say, Capo?”
I tilted my head to the side. “Capo? I’m not your capo, not anymore.” I let those words hang between us for long moments. “You lost the right to tie yourself to The Family when you betrayed us, Mario. You didn’t care that I was your capo when you decided to turn, to do unsavory tasks behind our backs.” I slowly grinned. “And you actually thought you could get away with it.” I let a low laugh spill from me, which had a few of the other men chuckling in return.
Mario looked around, his fear a clear mask on his face. I could practically hear his heart racing hard and fast like a scared rabbit running from a wolf.