(early ARC excerpt. Not final edited version)

COPYRIGHT 2024 by KyAnn Waters

Series page on Amazon – https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CGB3K1QF

From Chapter One

My heart stuttered. That particular feeling when you knew you were being watched made the hair at the back of my neck tingle. I found the source, only I wasn’t the one being stalked.

A man stared across the room with his gaze locked on my father. It wasn’t as if he even tried to hide the callousness in his penetrating glare. My fingers absently went to my throat as I tried to take a breath.

God, he was too beautiful. It was like I’d tuned into a commercial for expensive whiskey. Black tux, black tie, and a black shirt. He was older than me, but not by much. Maybe twenty-five. Dark lashes framed his eyes. I couldn’t see what color they were from this far away. He slid his hand into the pocket of his fitted trousers. Maybe the commercial could be one of those sexy cologne ads.

My mind immediately nosedived into the gutter. It probably sounded cliché, but seriously, I had never felt this warm from staring at a guy. I didn’t imagine hot men naked or surmise the size and thickness of their dicks. That was a lie. Sometimes I did, but not actual guys standing in the same room as me. Who hadn’t imagined Henry Cavill naked?

I could never picture myself as the slutty temptress out for seduction. I wore hoodies and jeans and sucked on hard, ginger candies.

My eyes widened as I stared at him. Even if I wanted to turn away from him, I couldn’t because I couldn’t stop imagining how it would feel to have him look at me, only with lust instead of the loathing he directed at my father. He was tall and thick. Muscles and mayhem.

I imagined him towering over me, stripped out of his clothes with his cock in his hand because he’d demanded I get on my knees. I swallowed the extra spit in my mouth.

I was freaking salivating.

And how could I be sweating and still have goosebumps chasing over my flesh? I tipped my glass and drank the rest of my cocktail. The alcohol scorched my throat and flared through my chest.

His gaze scanned the room, pausing on me. The corner of his mouth quirked in a devilish tilt. A flutter swirled in my belly, then seeped lower. I braced a hand to my pelvis because I think my ovaries just melted.

A group gathered in front of me. I was getting warmer so I tugged off my jacket, and shifted to where I could see him again.

Light glinted off his dark hair as he raked his fingers through his bangs. His hair didn’t have a style. It swirled around his head with soft curls and brushed against the collar of his tailored tux. Intentionally messy, but totally hot. He was fit as hell with a quiet intensity.

He didn’t come off as the political type. He wasn’t schmoozing the crowd or casing the guests for those who could make a sizeable donation to his campaign. Nor was he kissing ass. I’d guess him to be some tech giant or crypto currency guru except that he wasn’t arrogantly flashing his success and bragging about his accomplishments.

Like me, he was alone.

Even in the brightly lit room, shadows seemed to cut across the hard angles of his face. Full lips didn’t smile, but slightly parted as he tipped his glass and finished his drink. A cube of ice tumbled into his mouth. As he crunched the cube, his jaw flexed and moved.

He reminded me of a panther in the jungle. Alone, predatory, and deadly. As if stalking his prey, his focus was on my father, his gaze unwavering. I’d never seen him before. I’d remember the cruel intensity in his eyes.

I cautiously made my way to the coat check. Why did I even feel nervous? Except that he was stunningly provocative and somehow, he was connected to my father.

That made him dangerous.

I continued to check over my shoulder while I waited in line at the coat check.

“Thank you,” I said, once she took the jacket from my hands.

I gripped my clutch and shifted closer to the stranger.

My breath held when he set his empty glass on a table. He didn’t just walk across the room. He commanded the attention of those around him as he moved with confidence to intercept my father.

My steps were hesitant. Next to my father, the man’s shoulders seemed broader, his arms stronger, and his expression more sinister. I wasn’t close enough to hear the conversation, but my father’s posture stiffened.

Tension coiled in my gut. I wanted to get closer. I controlled my breaths and tightened my fingers on my clutch.

“You don’t want to make an enemy out of me,” he said.

The deep gravelly tone with his thick Italian accent did wicked things to me. It was like my body belonged to someone else because this wasn’t anxiety, but arousal. I should have kept my jacket on to cover my breasts and the embarrassing display of nipple poking through my dress.

“Are you threatening me?” My father’s voice wasn’t nearly as controlled. Although he didn’t cower easily either.

“I’m simply pointing out that we have a situation that needs to be addressed. I’m offering you a way to rectify the issue before it becomes complicated.”

My father dusted an invisible spec of lint from his jacket sleeve. “I’m not interested in negotiating with you.”

The man took a step closer to my dad. “I like to keep things simple. I don’t negotiate.”

“You’re outside your purview, Bruno.”

Bruno. I’d heard the name just a couple of days ago through the vent in my room. I’d written it down in my insurance policy, a notebook with the names I’d heard from my father’s lips. His enemies and his accomplices. Since it was my only weapon, I was biding my time. When I ran, I’d leave with the names and dates of his crimes.

My father’s office was directly below my second-floor bedroom. In a big house he probably assumed he was insulated from having his secrets overheard. But sound travelled. And the heating and air conditioning ducts were a conduit for his deviousness.

The man must have crossed my father. He didn’t bring his legitimate, legal work to his home office. The men who met with my father at home were the reason I carried pink lip gloss, my pink phone, and a pink pen.

“I work for the people of my city,” my dad continued. “My responsibility is to them.”

“And we both know you don’t have shit on Caruso. Byrne has you on his payroll, but he can’t protect you when he’s not in control of his own organization.”

My father lowered his voice. “Byrne was always expendable. Just ask his brother. He’s here tonight.”

The stranger’s focus shifted from my father to the people around them. Then his attention centered on me.

Those piercing eyes were the color of whiskey and narrowed with a savage intensity. I swallowed, needing a bit of saliva to moisten my dry mouth.

My father jerked his head around. I took a step forward just so that I could be closer to the stranger. His nearness made me breathless, and inside, I trembled.

Yet, I shivered from the smoldering heat in his eyes.

A predatory tilt lifted the corner of the man’s full lips. “Beautiful. Is she legal? Is she for you or Byrne?”

My father glared at the man and rested his hand on my shoulder. I tried not to flinch from the cold touch of his fingertips. But the heat in the stranger’s eyes chased the chill caused by my father’s hand.

“Can you give us a moment?” He spoke to me, but his glaring eyes never left the probing depth of the stranger’s glower.

“I’m going to go over to the auction tables,” I said, and lifted my gaze to the man one more time memorizing the small scar in the arch of his brow, the fall of his dark hair across his forehead, and the soft fullness of his lips.

I felt his penetrating stare burning through me as I walked away.