Total pages in book: 25
Estimated words: 23226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 23226 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 116(@200wpm)___ 93(@250wpm)___ 77(@300wpm)
Her life hadn’t exactly turned out the way she had wanted. Not that she had any real career ambitions. For the longest time, teachers would laugh when they asked what she wanted to be when she grew up, and her response was always the same—a mother. She wanted to be a mother and wife, and what in the world was fucking wrong with that? After all, she had seen how bad some people handled the role. Even now, she saw women flirting with men who were not their husbands.
This job didn’t exactly fill her with confidence for the future.
****
Mateo looked down at the picture that had fallen out of Ella’s locker. She hadn’t seen it fall to the ground as he startled her, but he had. At first, he couldn’t help but wonder if she had turned traitor, but of course he should have known better. Ella’s only flaw that he could see was that she worked for him.
He was not a good man. The bastard son of a mafia boss. His father had intended to cut him out without giving him anything. Humiliating him. Only, his father had gotten it all wrong.
The anger and rage he thought was kept carefully under control snapped, especially when his mother, Pamela Cole, was killed by his father. Mateo didn’t hold back. He slaughtered every single person in front of his father, making him watch as he took the precious son and heir he cared so much about. Mateo had been a killing machine, and he took the mafia right from under his father. Anyone who opposed him ended up dead.
He never dwelled on the memory because everyone he had killed fucking deserved it. He glanced down at the old picture which appeared to have been drawn by a child. When he hired Ella for his bar, he had done all the necessary background checks. There was no way she was connected to a child.
He checked the time to see it was already after two and past closing. Getting up from his seat, he folded the picture neatly, and made his way out to where Ella was already in the throes of cleaning up the bar. Cole’s was not the only bar he had. He possessed multiple nightclubs, strip clubs, restaurants, and casinos. He had inherited everything that had once been his father’s.
Now, as he looked at Ella, she stood out like a sore thumb. Everyone else he demanded dress in a certain way to work at his club. Ella was refreshing. She wore a long black skirt tonight that had multiple layers, along with a white top with billowy sleeves that curved around her chest and molded to her large tits, but caressed over her curves. Her long, brown hair had some strands clipped together to keep the hair off her face. In his other bars, the dress was simple—fitted pants, shirt, and heels.
He loved the way Ella dressed so much that he couldn’t resist giving her free reign. She always looked smart and sexy. She was a free spirit. He also knew she was damaged. It took a damaged soul to find another.
“Hey,” Ella said, offering him a smile.
He also found it refreshing that she never flirted with him. They had known each other for a couple of years now, and not once had she tried to get into his pants. Although, he truly wanted to get into hers. She never gave the wrong impression to any of the customers, and she was always professional.
“Slow night?” he asked.
“No, not at all. It was a busy night and considering it’s only Wednesday, I think this week is going to get crazy.” She did a little giggle, which he found cute. It wasn’t fake. It was totally real.
She wiped at her brow. “How are you?” she asked.
“I’m good, but there’s something I want to talk to you about.”
She was mopping the floor and looked up at him. “Sure, go ahead.”
He held the folded-up picture in his hand, and her gaze fell to it. “Since when did you have a kid?”
“I don’t have a kid.”
“This is a kid’s drawing.”
“It’s mine.”
“Yeah, so, why didn’t I know you had a kid?”
She leaned the mop handle up against the wall and shook her head. “No, that’s not what I mean.” She came toward him and reached out to take it, but he held it back.
There was that vanilla with a hint of cinnamon he always got when he was close to her. She let out a laugh.
“That picture is one that I drew eons ago.” She held her hand out.
“You drew this?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s a kid’s drawing and it’s mine.”
“Why?”
“Because one of the teachers asked what we always wanted, and I wanted a family. I wanted parents that loved one another and loved me, and lots of brothers and sisters. I didn’t want what I had.”