His Promise - His Possession Trilogy - Book 1 (EBOOK)

Every mafia boss needs a guy who’ll fight dirty and do whatever is asked of him, no matter how brutal.

I’m that guy.

Morally gray doesn’t begin to describe me. I feel nothing. Love no one. And that’s how I like it.

Until her.

Serafina Cordero is the runaway mafia princess I’ve been ordered to find and return to her sadistic father. He wants to force her into an arranged marriage. I shouldn’t care.

But I do.

Because the moment I laid eyes on her, I knew she would be mine. It doesn’t matter that it’s forbidden, or that she’s a virgin as innocent as I am dark and depraved.

For once in my life, I’m not following orders. I’m keeping Sera.

And if anyone tries to take her from me, I can promise them one thing.

They won’t live long enough to regret it…

Enzo

Fifteen Years Later

Her face...it was her face that shook my fucking soul.

Not the pastel pink hair. Or the nose ring pierced through her left nostril. Or the slutty outfit that drew my eyes to every inch of creamy flesh it revealed. Or the scent of coconuts and some kind of tropical flower that drifted to my nose.

No. It was her fucking face.

The first thing I noticed was that it was perfectly symmetrical. A slightly wider forehead tapering down to high cheekbones and a firm jawline that rounded gracefully into her strong chin. Her nose wasn't too small, or large, or thin, or long, but the type of nose I often saw in Tristan's drawings of the "perfect" face. At least those he allowed me to see.

But all of that was taken in almost subconsciously as eyes the color of a bright morning fog locked onto mine. Not blue, but not gray, either, with a black ring surrounding the irises. They were outlined with smudgy black liner, making them stand out like a lighthouse in a storm. Dark eyebrows framed them perfectly. 

Those eyes saw through the sunglasses I wore as a barrier between me and everyone else I met, and I swayed on my feet as the force of her gaze swept through me like the gust of a hurricane. Only my grip on the hotel door kept me steady.

She smiled with blush painted lips that begged to have my cock between them, and I noticed there was a slight gap between her top two front teeth. Although they weren't discolored, it took me by surprise that in this day and age, there was anyone walking around who hadn't had their teeth forced into submission by braces or some other type of expensive dental work. But I didn't mind it. It gave some character to her otherwise too-perfect features.

"Are you gonna let me in? Or are you gonna leave me standing out here in the hall all damn night?" A flirty demand from those sweet lips.

Her voice was soft, a bit husky, with a slight tremor that was only noticeable to someone who was really paying attention—and I couldn't help but give her my full regard—a direct contrast to the bold words coming out of her mouth. 

I raked my eyes over the rest of her to get a better look at what she was wearing. She was petite, coming about to my chin in heels, but not without curves. Full, luscious curves of which I could see plenty. Teardrop-shaped breasts that would spill from my hands, and deliciously rounded hips. The strip of her stomach revealed by the dress was soft and slightly curved. Her legs were full and shapely, tapering down to small ankles and feet in four-inch heels. She would never be a model. No. This one was made for fucking. 

My fingers twitched with the urge to touch her, to see if her pale skin felt as smooth and satiny as it looked.

Also, I wasn't completely convinced that the hot pink dress she wore wasn't, in reality, anything more than a roll of bandages she'd wrapped around herself half-haphazardly until it hid only enough to keep her from being arrested for public indecency. The material covered only her nipples and cunt, and barely at that. The only thing keeping her from getting raped in the street was the thigh-length black coat that, when pulled closed, could possibly preserve a portion of her modesty. 

I was dying to see the back of that dress.

Tearing my eyes from her body, I realized she was still staring at me expectantly. "Who are you?" I asked her. "Where's Jade?" I was being rude, but this woman was way too fucking distracting. She'd get me killed just watching her walk to my car. 

"Jade couldn't make it. She sent me in her place. Is that alright?" She smiled again, but it was a nervous smile that didn't reach her eyes. Something I only noticed now. I searched her face again, and this time I could see the lines of tension around her mouth and eyes. So why was she here?

But I didn't have to ask the question. I knew. It was money. Enough that it kept her from running screaming back down the hall as soon as I'd opened the door. 

Was she so desperate she would do something like this? That would explain the dress and the lack of dental work. She didn't look very old. If she was out of high school, I'd be surprised. Without a word, I started to close the door. This little girl, whoever she was, wasn't what I needed tonight.

"Wait!" She threw herself forward and blocked the door with her body. "What-what are you doing? Jade said you needed a date tonight."

"And she was correct. I need a date. Someone I can take to a very important party. Not a cheap fuck from an underage whore."

Something I couldn't quite read flashed across her face before she quickly schooled her expression. "I'm not cheap," she told me, lifting her chin. "My price is the same as Jade's. And I'm not underage. I turned twenty-five two months ago. I just look young." Then she dropped those gorgeous eyes, hiding her expression and lowering her voice as she said, "And I apologize if I had the wrong idea. Jade is sick. And all she told me was that one of her regular clients needed a girl. She neglected to fill me in on the rest of it. I just assumed..." she trailed off.

It didn't escape my notice that she didn't dispute the "whore" part, which surprised me. Even prostitutes on the street begging to suck your dick for a few dollars to support their crack habit would argue the terminology. I tilted my head and stared down at her. The nervous tremor had faded from her voice, and her expression had settled into what I now interpreted as a look of relief. Also, her words were much more articulate than the first impression she'd given me. Which meant she'd been faking the whore act when she'd first arrived. For some reason, a sense of relief flowed through me. But then I frowned. "Am I that monstrous to you?"

Her eyes flew to my face. "I'm sorry?"

Leaning against the wall so I blocked her view of the room, one of the most expensive in the city, I crossed my arms and ankles. "You seem very relieved that you won't have to fuck me tonight."

She stared up at me and blinked a few times. "Could you take off your sunglasses?"

"No."