AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Though of course I’ve spent the past three years trapped in purgatory, a prisoner behind that glass wall of status and bloodlines, hierarchy and history.
Fuck, if I could count the number of times my mind has plummeted down to those dark places where I steal Amelia from her father and Family, pull her through that glass wall of society into my dirty world of death and destruction . . .
But there’s a reason they call those thoughts fantasy.
They aren’t real.
They can never be real.
Because if I touch that divine ass, I’m a dead man.
And in that extremely unlikely world where Amelia Volini actuallywantsme to touch her?
She’s dead too.
No way Anthony Volini lets his only daughter slum it with a nameless mongrel like me, a man with no history, no past, no future.
No future with Amelia, at least.
But shit, what was that question about watching tennis, I think as my heart thunders behind my chest, my head spinning as I stomp down the marble-floored wood-paneled hallways of the mansion.
Could anyone have seen me three years ago in that upstairs bathroom?
Nah, I tell myself as I step through the front door and take a gulp of fresh air. If anyone saw me, I’d already be a dead man. At the very least Anthony Volini would have cut all ties with me. No way he would trust a perverted beast like me around his precious daughter. These Italian mafiosos take the whole virgin thing way too fucking seriously, like there’s something holy about that sweet red cherry.
Though damn, thereissomething holy and hot about being Amelia Volini’s first.
Her first and only.
The thought almost makes my head explode, and I wince at the late morning sun and shake my head to clear the manically possessive urges. Three years now I haven’t touched a woman. Just lost interest in every other pussy after seeing Amelia, after my body roared that she’s mine even though she’ll never be mine.
I clench my fists at my sides in jealous fury, barely able to hold back the blind rage that some privileged Mafia prince gets to be Amelia’s first and only, not me. It’s just wrong how these Mafia families violate each of the Ten Commandments every day and twice on Sundays, but want all their daughters to be pure like the driven snow for a wedding night with some spoiled privileged Mafia prince who’s been fucking whores and housemaids ever since his little pecker got hard.
Fuck that.
Amelia deserves better than that.
But although I hate to admit it, Amelia deserves better than me too.
I have money, sure. Millions safely tucked away in untraceable cryptocurrency and offshore numbered accounts and even a few storage lockers with cold hard cash and bars of gold in case the fucking apocalypse finally shows up.
But money wouldn’t be enough. What kind of life would Amelia have with a lone-wolf assassin like me? We’d be on the run from Day One, her father’s soldier’s hunting us down to save face for the Family. Alone and on the run isn’t the kind of life a princess like Amelia could handle.
Though now it occurs to me that maybe Amelia does know a thing or two about loneliness and seclusion, about being trapped in her own gold-plated prison. What was that she said just now?
I don’t get out much.
Well, that’s about to change, Princess, I’d replied with far more emotion than I wanted to reveal, a hint of the raw desperation that surged in me when I overheard Anthony Volini closing the deal over the phone.
A deal for Amelia.
Her time has come.
Her arrangement has been made.
With the fucking Romero Family.
I almost broke her father’s neck right there.
