The Power of a Woman: A Mafia Erotic Romance by Gina Whitney & Leddy Harper

Author:Gina Whitney & Leddy Harper [Whitney, Gina & Harper, Leddy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B0190KLEQ4
Published: 2015-12-05T00:00:00+00:00

They say PTSD affects everyone differently. Some cower. Some cry. Some numb it with substances. I didn’t know how I’d handle it until it stared me right in the face. The ugly monster it was, glared at me, provoked me, threatened me.

They say blinding rage comes out differently depending on the strength of the person. It gives some the ability to lift a car off the ground. Some people burn down buildings while others sit back and spew venomous words under their breath. Me? I’d felt rage before. I’d experienced the burning flames of pure anger lick me from the inside. But blinding rage? Never like this… The Hulk had nothing on me.

Two little words. Two words Stefan had uttered to me countless times before. Harmless words meant to show affection caused my head to throb, my hands to shake, and my throat to close.

Little one.

It was what he’d called me before adopting the name Tesoro for me. It’d never bothered me before. However, that was before Scarface. That was before that sadistic motherfucker said those same words to me. Now, no matter who said it, all I could think about was Zeke—his slimy yellow teeth and the stench of his breath as he called me “little one.”

I didn’t cower. I didn’t cry. And I certainly had no desire to numb this wrath that unfurled within me. Blinding rage. That’s what it was. It consumed me—a quick shot of steroids to my muscles.

My hand lifted and flew through the air, connecting with the side of Stefan’s face. I didn’t have a chance to feel remorse as he recoiled, covering his cheek with his palm. His eyes narrowed, but he backed up, clearly seeing something in my expression that no one had ever seen before. I didn’t stop there, though. I continued my attack, frantically hitting him with some of the moves I’d been taught in my Krav Maga class, cursing and muttering things under my breath I didn’t understand. But apparently he did, because instead of coming at me, he held my wrists and calmly subdued my shaking body.

“Tesoro,” he whispered against my burning cheeks, repeating his name for me until I calmed down. “What was that? What happened?” He pulled his face away a few inches and waited until my eyes met his. “You kept calling me Zeke. What was that all about? Do you still see him when you look at me?”

I’d offended him. I could tell by his creased brow and pained eyes. It was the same look he’d given me after torturing me with the vibrator that day I’d snuck into his room. But that wasn’t what this was about. I didn’t see Zeke. I wasn’t scared of Stefan. I couldn’t explain it, so I only shook my head, keeping my lips pressed together as I breathed through my nose.

“What was it? What did I do that brought this on?”

“Little one,” I forced out, the words burning my throat.

“He called you that?” An emotion passed over his face, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

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