Page 3 of Hook

I don’t know, but I’ve fucked all of them.

“Hey,” I say gruffly, tossing back the rest of the scotch. “I was just leaving.” I’m about to walk out from behind the bar when she steps into my path and places a hand on my chest, arching a brow.

“What’s the rush?” Her lips purse temptingly and I know that fucking this piece of ass over the bar might well help take the edge off of the day I’ve had.

I grab her wrist and yank her toward me, knowing full well that most of these women hope I’ll make it a regular thing. The fact is, I don’t even remember if I’ve had sex with this one or not, or what her name is.

Her lips purse and eyes dilate as she pushes her chest into me, trying to draw me in. And as I gaze at her, the desire to fuck her diminishes. “I’m not feeling like it tonight, sweetheart.” I release her wrist, knowing that for a few months now, something has been off.

Perhaps I’ve finally grown tired of fucking these girls. They’re all the same, desperate and greedy for money. I need something fresh to pull me out of the rut I’m in, and if the information Luke provided me is true, I’ll get that from Piero’s fiancé, who I intend to snatch from under his nose and make mine.

“Oh, okay,” she says, looking disappointed.

I can’t say I care too much, as I’ve got a plan to get in motion. Kai, the man I just killed, gave me the most important piece of information yet—information that isn’t common knowledge.

Piero is engaged. And while he may have stolen my world from me, I intend to steal it all back, starting with his innocent little fiancée, Gwendolyne Tesoro, princess of the Tesoro mob. It’s time to go on a hunt for Piero’s most recent and prized possession.

2

GWENDOLYNE

The dining room is aglow with the flickering candles, their soft light illuminating the room. A crisp white cloth is draped over the mahogany wood table and a bouquet of fresh roses sits in a vase, the sweet smell of their perfumed petals filling the air.

Italian classical music plays in the background to add a layer of romance to the already romantic atmosphere.

My gaze shifts to my fiancé opposite me, his dark eyes locking onto me with an alluring yet predatory gleam.

My heart races at the sight of his devilish smile which is sinful and intoxicating. I force out an awkward grin in return.

Two weeks ago, my father announced our engagement to unite two of California’s most powerful mafia families: The Panarello family and ourselves.

It’s my destiny to marry Piero Panarello, Don of the Italian mob in Los Angeles and fifteen years my senior, yet he looks as if he has stepped off a fashion magazine cover.

“How is your food?” He asks, sipping his wine.

My throat suddenly feels dry, but I nod. “Delicious.” I stab my fork into the center of the spaghetti and twirl the pasta onto it along with the rich ragu sauce.

Piero licks his bottom lip, his gaze burning into me. “Not as delicious as you look in that dress.”

Fire spreads through my veins and I glance away, unable to look at him for too long without being overcome by the too many confusing feelings. “You look pretty amazing, too.” I take a long sip of the fancy Italian wine, savoring the taste. “This wine is one of the best I’ve ever tasted,” I say, in an attempt to divert the conversation.

His smile widens. “I should hope so. It’s fifteen hundred dollars a bottle.”

My eyes widen as I stare at the glass, unable to fathom how anyone could justify spending that much on one bottle of wine.

In the two weeks since I met Piero, he has revealed himself to be someone who likes overindulgence and extravagance. A common trait in our world, but he takes it further than anyone else I’ve ever met. A feeling of unease unfurls within me is as I remember we’re soon to be married.

“Has my father mentioned a date for our wedding?”

His smile deepens into a sultry smirk that sends warmth cascading down my spine. “Not yet,” he replies, swirling his glass before taking a sip of the rich liquid. “But I’ll recommend the date is sooner rather than later.”

I suppress a shiver. “Why’s that?”

He stands and strides toward me like a hunter stalking his prey. “So delightfully innocent, Gwen. Because I crave you.” His hands grasp my shoulders as he kneads the knots in them.

Pleasure ripples through my body, and I give out a moan of appreciation. “What are you doing?”

“Am I not allowed to touch my fiancé?” His voice oozes with authority. This is the first time a man has touched me, and it’s sending sparks of pleasure all over my skin.

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