Total pages in book: 92
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 87704 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 439(@200wpm)___ 351(@250wpm)___ 292(@300wpm)
Fuck everything else in this world.
We’re never letting her go.
***
The penthouse carries its familiar, clean scent, the space meticulously tidy, the windows stretching to reveal the skyline beyond. I lead Aemelia to the kitchen, settling her onto a stool at the counter with another kiss, and open the cupboard to retrieve the brandy and four glasses. I pour double measures into three and hand Aemelia the single. We all knock it back, the liquid burning as it makes its descent to settle our nerves.
“Come,” I tell Aemelia, holding out my hand. I lead her to her room and, at the doorway, say, “Stay here while we talk. I’ll come to you when we’re done.” She nods, and I close the door behind her.
Back in the open plan living area, Antonio exhales sharply, rubbing a hand over his jaw as if trying to ground himself. Luca shakes his head, darkness turning his clear blue eyes to the depth of the ocean.
“A hit?” Luca finally asks, his voice controlled, but there’s rage simmering beneath the surface.
“Looked like a warning.” Antonio clenches his hands into fists.
“They’re dead,” I growl, throwing my hands in the air, fingers splayed wide. My heart is still hammering, my blood surging through my veins with a mix of adrenaline and fury. Whoever just tried to take a shot at us—at her—signed their death warrant.
Luca straightens; his decision is made. “We find out who sent them. This goes higher than a few bottom feeders.”
Antonio nods, his expression dark. “We have to keep her safe.”
“No one will touch her,” I grind out. “No one will damage even a fingernail.”
No one takes what belongs to us.
Not now. Not ever again.
29
AEMELIA
THE DEVIL HAS KIND HANDS
My hands are still shaking when Alexis returns to check on me. I’m sitting on the bed, and he crouches in front of me running his hand through my hair, easing out the tangles.
“Aemelia.” He brushes his thumb over my cheek, tender as a lamb.
“Why?” I ask. “Were they coming for me?”
“We’ll find out, and we’ll deal with it. For now…”
He kisses me sweetly, searching, and I reach for him, tangling my fingers in his soft, dark curls, slipping into a place of safety within his arms. He covered me with his body and protected me as I had protected him. No man has ever sheltered me that way.
His touches are practiced and gentler than I imagined it could be with him. Gone is his demanding edge, his need to make me beg. It’s like, by pushing him to the ground, I showed him that I’m worthy of his care and his love, and now I have nothing to prove.
“Are you okay?” He cups my throat where my pulse beats a steady rhythm.
“I’m not used to it. The violence, the threat.”
His jaw flexes. “And you don’t have to get used to it. Everything will be okay.”
He draws me to my feet, wrapping his arms around me, cradling me like I’m precious. I slide easily into his embrace, starved of affection, still shaking from the sight of the menacing men pointing their guns toward us and the sharp echo of the gunshots. Alexis sways us, and before I realize what’s happening, he’s dancing with me slowly in a small circle, with just the low hum of a murmured song in the background.
His broad hands stroke in long, slow swipes down my back, calming and reassuring. I press my face into his warm, solid chest and close my eyes so I can try to forget where I am and why and sink into this feeling of safety and security.
My mama was always filled with words of wisdom which she mostly aimed at my brother, who needed sense knocked into him regularly. Her favorite: the devil doesn’t come to you with anger or to inspire fear. He comes to you offering everything you ever wanted and everything you didn’t know you needed, with kind hands and a soft smile. He lulls you into believing he wants what’s best for you until it’s too late.
My throat convulses in a noisy gulp as I try to draw together my splintered thoughts and feelings. Is Alexis the angel or the devil? The men outside wanted to kill us and he became my shield. But with his brothers, he’s taken me from everything I know and love and kept me captive.
He looks down at me with tender, wide eyes, as though he’s seeing me for the first time.
“Did you dance at your prom?” he asks me.
“I didn’t go,” I whisper.
He tips my chin, forcing me to meet the fire in his eyes. “Why not?”
“I couldn’t afford the dress. There was no one…” I trail off because he doesn’t care about my childish experiences. He’s a grown man from a world where life and death flip at the click of fingers.