Alliance: A Mafia Arranged Marriage Forbidden Romance (Sinners of New Orleans Book 1) by Natalia Lourose

Author:Natalia Lourose [Lourose, Natalia]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Natalia Loruose
Published: 2021-05-04T23:00:00+00:00

I stare at the numbers forever. They burned a hole in my pocket the entire drive back to my apartment. It was like they had a life of their own. I couldn’t practically feel them vibrating.

I’ve been staring at them for hours. The second I got home, I plucked the paper from my pocket, pressing it out on the kitchen counter.

Should I call her?

What would I even say?

Hey, it’s me? That guy you slept with who almost died because of it?

Maybe a joke. Hey, your pussy is killer. Almost literally.

No. That’s fucking stupid. I run my hands through my hair and heave a sigh. I’m being ridiculous, acting like a child over calling a girl. I’ve seen her fucking naked, it shouldn’t be that hard to call her.

I pull my cell phone from my pocket, jabbing at each of the numbers with my finger. The ringing feels like it takes forever, an endless stream of buzzing.

When it finally stops and her silky voice floats through the device, I’m paralyzed. I can’t come up with the words to speak back to her simple hello.

“Hi,” I finally whisper, the word coming out breathy and rough.

“Hi,” she responds. “How did you—Sam?”

“Yeah, Sam gave me the number,” I tell her. She sounds surprised, but the good kind of surprised. Like getting flowers for no occasion, not the unwanted but I’ll-fake-it kind reserved for surprise parties and unplanned pregnancies.

I don’t know what to talk about with her. I have no right to want to hear her voice. No right to take pleasure in her happiness and wallow in her grief.

She’s not mine and I’m not hers.

“Are you okay?” I ask. It’s the first thing I can think of, and something I need to know. The last time she was here, she was drunk. She was hovering over the edge, seconds from jumping. She needed me to numb her pain, make her feel anything else, and I happily obliged. Because I wanted the distraction too.

Is that all we are? Each other’s distraction?

“Yeah,” she breathes, and I can hear the crack of her breath as it hits the receiver. “No,” she adds. “I don’t know. Not really.” Her tone is unsure, her answers changing. I can feel the anxiety coming from her, the sincerity in her pain and confusion.

“Is it him?” I ask, and again I know I don’t deserve an answer, don’t deserve to know how he treats her or what he does to her. Because she’s not mine, and I know that. I know it with every fiber of my being. I can’t have the woman on the other end of this phone call.

But I want to know.

I want to know what he did to confuse her. What words he said that eat away at her brain. What he did to make her hate herself.

And then I want to fix it for her. I want to smooth over his wreckage, ease the aches that fill her body and soul. I want to whisper sweet words to erase his voice, press soft kisses along her body to cover up his touch.

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