End Game (A Dark Romance) by Waltz Vanessa

Author:Waltz, Vanessa [Waltz, Vanessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: mafia romance, Contemporary Fiction, vanessa waltz, alpha male romance, Contemporary Romance
Published: 2014-11-04T08:00:00+00:00

JOE

I’ve read about this thing that happens to kidnapped victims. It’s called “Stockholm Syndrome.” It’s a phenomenon where victims start to express feelings of sympathy and empathy for their captors. Is there such a thing for something happening in the reverse?

I feel sorry for her.

It was bad enough seeing her face all fucked up at her apartment. My heart broke when she cried, her small hands cradling her mangled head. I couldn’t stand to watch her get so upset, so I left. Now that I know who did it, my mind has been obsessed—consumed with thoughts of violent reprisal. I already killed one of the pricks, but the rest will have to go.

I walk into the living room to see Marisa sitting on the couch, watching the Disney channel. Christ, I didn’t even know that I have it. The moment she sees me, she swallows hard and shuts the TV off. She balls her fists at her sides and cringes when I walk closer.

“Sorry.”

The tense tone she uses and her darting eyes fill me with searing guilt. She’s back to being afraid of me.

“You can watch TV if you want.”

“Thanks,” she says tersely, but makes no move to turn it back on.

I frown. I didn’t like rejecting her. Hell, I felt like an asshole when her face fell apart. Of course, I lied out of my ass. The truth is that just hanging around her makes me happier than I’ve been in months. If things weren’t such a fucking mess and if I’d met her under different circumstances, it would be a different story. I just don’t think it’s wise to have her as anything more than a comare. Jack wouldn’t like it, and when Jack doesn’t like you, he gets rid of you.

That’s the reality.

It was a nice game to play with her, but it has got to end. I have to end it.

If only the suffocating feeling in my chest would disappear.

I sit down next to her and absorb her silence, the way her chest rises and falls, the careful manner in which she places her hands on her thighs. Her face looks a lot better. Almost healed, really, except for a faint yellow shadow on the side of her head.

“How are you feeling?”

Oh, I’m sure she’s fucking feeling great after you shot her down. Stupid question.

“Okay.”

“Listen,” I begin in a low voice, “about yesterday—”

Marisa suddenly grabs my bicep and a rush of dizziness makes me forget the rest of my sentence when she climbs onto my lap like it’s the most normal thing in the world. I have to appreciate the gall of this woman. Did I say she could do that?

But then she straddles my waist and my mouth is suddenly dry. Blonde hair falls around my hands as I touch her small face, which is wretched with sadness. Her hair tickles my face as she leans into me, and her lips fall on mine, my mouth open in surprise.

What is she doing? I told her yesterday—

Dude, shut up.

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