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ONE LAST NOTE…
TheVicious Heirtimeline starts within the same timeline asRuthless Vows. The two stories are almost running parallel, so you’ll see certain scenes from different points of view. I’ve done my best to insert the timeline as well as this note in order to help readers understand where my brain was as I was writing this series. For example…InRuthless Vows, you saw Giana volunteering for the Child Meets Book program, and inVicious Heiryou see back to the point of when she was brought on as a volunteer. Also, inRuthless Vows,you see a scene in Vittoria and Romeo’s home from Giana and Dante’s point of view, whereas inVicious Heir, you see it form Evelina’s. In RV, you see Giana be taken by the cartel and feel her terror as it is happening to her, and in VH you see it happening from Evelina and Niccolò’s point of view.
Hopefully this will all make sense once you start reading, but I just wanted to give you a proper head’s up about the timeline!
1
NICCOLÒ AMATO
I’ve always had a hopeless obsession with beautiful things.
And my god, is she beautiful.
I peer around the stack of books,herbooks, so I can keep her within eyesight. She should feel lucky I’m not throwing her into a room and locking her inside. Having my way with her.
What I wouldn’t give to have her all to myself, in my bed, her scent lingering on my sheets—onme. But for now, maybe forever, having her infiltrate my mind will have to suffice.
She picks up a stack of books with fraying and tattered edges and gracefully adjusts them on a shelf. One falls to the ground, and she quickly goes to grab it.
Bending at the waist, her body contorts into pure, lust-inducing art. Images of my fingers gripping her waist, sinking into her porcelain skin, and painting her pretty flesh with bruises flash through my mind like I’ve seen it all before. Like I’ve lived those moments I’m desperately craving. Marking her would be the sweetest form of ecstasy.
I know her lithe body like it’s my own—I’ve already committed every inch of her into my memory just in case I get caught and can’t come back—although, who am I kidding? Nothing is going to stop me from watching her.
From hunting her down like she is my prey.
Even if I’ll never have her, I’ll keep her close.
It’s as if I’ve touched her in every intimate way, the way she’s burned into my mind, but I’ve never even had the pleasure of running my hands along that immaculate skin of hers. Of feeling the beautiful canvas she calls a body mold into mine. Her arms draped around my neck. Those long legs wrapped around my body as I forcefully drive into her sweet, perfect pussy.
What I wouldn’t give to close the space between us, reach my hand out, and tug down her plump bottom lip. Smear her pretty, blood-red lipstick down her chin and make a mess out of something so fucking flawless.
I clench my eyes shut as I pretend to stare down into an old King novel. Behind my eyelids, I’m watching a fantasy as I trail my fingertips down her dainty neck, to her collarbone, to that small, concave space between her protruding bone and the swell of her chest. I trace a path down her center, between her breasts, and revel in the tender flesh separating her hummingbird heart from my touch.
I open my eyes, and she’s smiling into the stack of books. I’m wondering how a monster like me could be drawn to such an untainted goddess of a woman. Part of me wishes she was a little dirty—just a little blemished, tarnished…anything to create the allure that she is not as stunning as she truly is. It’s like she has a fucking halo above her head for fuck’s sake.
A haloanda glaringly obvious warning sign telling me she is everything perfect, and I will only destroy her in the end.
After all, I was made to destroy.
I was made to ruin.
I was made to kill.
Still, it doesn’t matter…doesn’t deter me…because she is a drug, and I am a goddamn insufferable addict.
She is the kryptonite—mykryptonite—bringing me to my knees, and when I am near her, I don’t give even one fuck about the threat she is to my sanity.
And in my world—inourworld—that’s a dangerous, dangerous game.
One I’ll gladly play until the end.
Because she’smine, you see?
She is mine…even though I’ve never said so much as a word to her, and I’ve only been in her presence a total of ten times—I’ve been counting—all as incognito as possible. I may be fucking deranged, but I can’t help it. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
I’ve always had a problem hyper focusing on beauty.
A problem that’s resulted in death.
