Page 34 of The Gangster King

I bite my bottom lip, pleased with the pain I caused him, then glance up at Angela.

She winks back at me.

“Well, just making sure you’re both still alive. Keep going,” she says and then makes to leave.

I sit up. “Wait!”

But she doesn’t and now I’m alone with Dante the Monster once more.

I have to convince him to let me go. I have eight days to get my affairs in order and leave for California.

Forever.

I am not going to let him mess this up.

“Listen”—I turn—“can’t we come to some sort of agreement here?”

Dante snorts.

“You are hardly in a position to negotiate. I told you; I’m keeping you safe.”

I’m struggling with that concept, but I don’t have time to argue with him. And I wouldn’t be Carlos Baldoni’s daughter if I didn’t try to negotiate. Plus, we learned negotiation in business school.

“Okay. Let’s say I agree with you. Can you let me out of this room? I’ll stay here until things have smoothed out.”

Dante stands and reaches out a hand. I take it—being a good little kidnappee—and smile nicely.

Christ, did I just flutter my lashes?

“I know what you’re doing. And no.”

Ugh!

“Come on, Dante. I’ll be good,” I plead.

God, I sound pathetic.

He frowns at me, and I try to ignore his full, luscious lips and the way his large frame towers over me. His shirt is askew, so I straighten it as his tongue sweeps out.

Shit, why do I want to kiss this asshole.

Also, I want to strangle him, so I console myself with that.

“Stop trying to play with me.” He grips my wrists firmly and lowers them.

“I’m not. If anything, I’m trying to play nice.” I tilt my head.

He leans in. “Two hours ago, you threw the silver lid off your meal at one of my men.”

I fight my smile, pleased that he heard about that.

“I don’t like meatloaf,” I mumble.

“He needs stitches,” he deadpans.

“I am sorry.”

About as sorry as a fucking death row murderer eager to get out and find his next victim.