Her Filthy Mafia Men: a Dark Arranged Marriage Mafia Romance (Her Filthy Harem Book 2) by Penelope Wylde

Author:Penelope Wylde [Wylde, Penelope]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Ten

Katriona

A cry slips from my lips and Drake’s mouth is there to swallow every last gasp and I’m so ready for them to give me more.

I’m so consumed with the pleasure rolling through me I don’t hear the man at the door until Sylan curses under his breath. He pulls away, passing me to the other men.

A jacket is thrown around me and both Grey and Drake turn to slip me behind them.

A wall of muscle blocks me from view and I’m more than a little crushed by the sudden change. I slip my hands up their backs. Muscles ripple. The last time I stood this close to them in the position we were taking heavy fire. Bullets whizzed by our heads and Grey took one for me.

I clutch the material of their shirts and lean into their strength. This is not that, I remind myself. We’re okay, safe. No guns, no bullets. No one died that I care about.

What am I doing? Living a fantasy, stupid, answers my inner critic, but then what?

I know they are not looking for a one-nighter. But what am I looking for? Dealing with these three is going to take a backbone made of titanium. Am I up for that?

“Mr. Ward. There’s a situation with one of the guests.”

My brows rise at the infliction on the word guests.

From where I’m standing, I just barely see the dark looks passing over Sylan and Drake’s expressions. Both men move away but Grey is the one who growls with what sounds like frustration.

“Wait here. This won’t take long. When we get back, we’ll discuss the terms of our agreement.”

I watch all three prowl across the spacious living room and exit out of a door I hadn’t seen before.

I nod to their retreating backs. “Yeah, sure. I’ll be right here.” It’s probably not a good idea to put a voice to my other thoughts so I clamp my mouth shut. Thoughts like, “sure, I’ll stay here while you are probably torturing a guest in a back room or worse, the kitchen.”

And the same reason why I’m not sticking around to see if all the wooing is pretend before they put a bullet through my brain.

That pesky voice of reason pops up again, telling me Drake was speaking the truth. If they wanted me dead, I would be. Simple as that. I just don’t like the idea of my freedom not being my own.

Gorgeous or not, no man owns me and there is no need for any agreement. What had I been thinking letting them work me up so hard? So fast? Stupid, stupid, stupid.

I poke my head out the door, barely believing the empty corridor I find on the other side. Several doors line either side but only one has the lights on. It pours from a slit where I also hear muffled voices coming from.

I back up and close the door behind me. This is too perfect. A little voice of doubt screams with questions like

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