Total pages in book: 60
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 54283 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 271(@200wpm)___ 217(@250wpm)___ 181(@300wpm)
"I always finish what I start, Lombardi. Remember that," I mutter, turning to leave.
His next comment stops me in my tracks before I even make it two steps.
"Sullivan's daughter is a pretty little thing, isn't she?"
I go still, rage simmering through my veins. "Watch your fucking mouth."
He chuckles, a mocking smirk curving his lips up at the corners. "Did I hit a nerve, Leyva? Interesting. Maybe I will ask her to dance, see what it is about her that has you so riled up."
Before he can even blink, I have him by the throat, slamming him up against the bar. Stools get knocked aside, landing upside down. A glass bottle shatters, sending scotch and glass raining down around us.
The room goes silent, everyone turning to stare.
"Listen to me carefully," I say, my voice deadly calm. "If you so much as look in her fucking direction, they won't ever find your fucking body. Do you understand me?"
Lombardi just smirks, even as his face turns a satisfying shade of purple.
I hold him for a moment longer before I release him, stepping back. "You're lucky there are witnesses, you prick."
"Always a pleasure taunting you, Leyva," he says, laughing hoarsely.
I smile, cold and vicious. "Oh, this is the last time you do it. Trust me on that, pendejo."
I turn and stalk out of the ballroom, leaving him standing there. The crowd parts before me again, completely silent as I pass through. But as soon as I do, whispers follow in my wake.
Fuck it, though, right? They wanted fucking Dios de la Guerra to put on a show, so let them talk. Now, they know what happens when someone threatens what belongs to me.
And Brynna is mine, even if she doesn't know it yet. I will burn this city to ash and ruin before I let anyone take her from me.
Chapter Four
Brynna
"Where the fuck have you been?" Niall clamps a hand down on my arm as soon as I step back inside the ballroom, his grip like iron. "I've been looking everywhere for you."
"I stepped out for some air," I mutter, tugging discreetly against his hold as people glance in our direction. It's not technically a lie. "Is that a crime?"
His dark scowl tells me that, apparently, it is a crime. I'm supposed to be a good little girl and do as I'm told. Except…I don't feel like playing that role tonight. I haven't felt like playing it in years. He and my father have yet to notice.
"What did he want?" Niall demands.
"To piss you off?" I shrug, my heart hammering against my ribcage as I try to wriggle my way out of telling him the truth. "Judging by the look on your face, I'd say it worked, wouldn't you?"
Niall's dark glower grows even darker. Impressive, honestly.
"Can you let go of my arm now, or do you plan to drag me through the gala like a recalcitrant child? Everyone is already."
I'm not kidding about that. Everyone in the general vicinity is focused on us, leaning in as if trying to hear what we're discussing. Because of Naz? Do I even need to ask? Of course it's because of Naz.
He strolled through the doors, set his sights on me, and set the entire place on fire with rumors and speculation.
"Shit." My brother immediately releases his hold on me, his expression softening with regret. For all his flaws, he isn't a bad man. He's a complicated one. A criminal, yes. A hedonist, absolutely. A pain in my ass, only every day of the week. But he means well. He worries. I guess he has plenty of reason for that. "I'm sorry. I'm an asshole. Did I hurt you?"
"No." I pause for a beat. "But you are getting on my nerves."
A tiny smile flickers at his lips. "So Naz didn't do any damage, then?" He scrutinizes my expression, genuine worry in his gaze. "You're okay?"
"I'm fine, Niall." I roll my eyes, guilt flickering through me. I hate that I'm lying even as I do it…but I do it anyway. "Honestly, you worry too much. What was he going to do in a room full of witnesses? He wanted to annoy you and Dad. He succeeded. As soon as he accomplished his mission, he disappeared."
I'm no longer sure that's what he wants at all. He meant it when he said he wants me. I'm just not entirely sure why he wants me so badly. The rational half of my brain screams that it's exactly what I suspect—I'm some pawn in whatever game he's playing with my father. But the other half rebels against the thought. That half, stupidly, wants a reason to trust him. It wants a reason to fall into whatever this fascination is. It wants to believe he wants me simply for me.
The way he looks at me is electric, pulsing with something I've never felt. I like it a little too much. And that's dangerous. He's dangerous—and I don't mean for obvious reasons.