Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39829 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 199(@200wpm)___ 159(@250wpm)___ 133(@300wpm)
I’ve been in love with Miles for so long and have denied it for just as long—until the day I made a fool of myself. One kiss, one foolish mistake, and now I can’t stand looking at him without my chest aching. I need space to move on from my insane crush, but this man refuses to give me an inch of breathing room. He acts like danger is breathing down my neck when heartache is my greatest threat.
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
Chapter One
Miles
“Thank you for hosting this dinner, Miles. I’ve always considered you a son, and your father one of my greatest friends.” I don’t need his appreciation, but I treasure it. This man has always been wonderful to me and is the reason I’m so damn successful. Of course, my own father has a lot to do with that as well. I can’t diminish that aspect, but Emiliano Martín was instrumental in the man I’ve become—especially because I’ve chosen to live in Vegas instead of Steeleville like my father.
He takes a seat behind his desk, looking worse for wear as a grunt escapes him. He tries to hide it, but it’s pointless. The man isn’t that young anymore, so I’m not sure why he bothers. Given all he’s been through, I know the pain is intense, and there is no shame in dealing with it.
“Are you well?” I ask my godfather, who seems a little under the weather since I saw him two days ago.
“Yes,” he remarks. “The surgery is in two days, but the damn pain is a son of a bitch now.” I nod.
“Do you need me to call the doctor, get you some meds, or call my godmother?” She’d do anything to take care of him.
His eyes widen, and he leans back in his chair. “Oh, God, no. Don’t call Roxie.” His voice amplified and his shoulders stiffed. Hell, that stressed him more than normal. He loves her, so it’s not that he doesn’t want her around. Their love was unshakeable, so something has to be up.
I tilt my head and take a seat in the chair in front of his desk. I wonder if there’s something I’m missing. “How is my godmother?”
“She is managing, doing her best not to worry, and I don’t want to add to her worries. We haven’t told the kids about the risks, but they’re smart.” He calls them kids, but they are pretty much all adults now, so they know that the risks are great but the surgery is necessary. That’s why I’m willing to allow all these pieces of shit into my home for a discussion. There’s no way in hell I’d allow them in my home otherwise.
The families have to be made aware that Elsa is under my protection. The entire Martín family is under my protection, but that’s the most important part of the meeting. She is a prize that men want to claim, and I’m certain that those assholes are going to bring her up.
“Does Elsa know about the dinner?” I ask.
“No, she doesn’t, and we need to keep it that way.” He’s always done a great job of keeping the women out of the dangerous end of our lives. It’s for the best given how easily his enemies would love to use them to their advantage.
“Good. I don’t want her to get the wrong idea. She’s just a little girl—and my godsister.” I have no interest in her other than protecting her from the dangers that come with being a beautiful heiress, and she is beautiful—remarkably so. I haven’t seen her in the past year, surprisingly, because life has gotten in the way, but as it is, I need to do a better job.
“She’s hardly a little girl anymore, but I want her safe.”
“Don’t worry about her. I won’t let anything happen to little Elsa.”
“You keep referring to her as little, but she’s about to start her second year of college soon.”
My eyes widen like a damn clown. I rub my jaw and then add, “Damn—second year? Where have I been?” I’ve been working nonstop for the company and helping with problems that arise in Steeleville from time to time, so much that I don’t have any social life, and it’s a shame that I haven’t even kept up with those closest to me.
“Working your ass off. I’m sure Milo has mentioned it once or twice.”
Hardly. Now that I think about it, he actually makes a concerted effort not to mention Elsa to me. “Not that often. Just that she’s a pain in the ass.” A thought comes to mind, and I push it back, but it lingers. There is no way that Milo saw the way I looked at her that day. It was brief, and I was just stunned. Elsa had surprised us one day in a tiny pair of shorts and a cartoon tee with her hair in a ponytail. It wasn’t anything super attention-grabbing, but I noticed that she’d grown up. I quickly excused myself to attend a meeting, and that was the last time I saw her. Hell, that was over a year ago.
“Ha. Siblings. Go figure. She’s a good girl, but headstrong like her mother and extremely anxious to be independent.” I know what he means by that: no damn security, free to be like every other girl around her. That isn’t something that can easily be done because of who she is.