Possessive Touch (Filthy Dirty Deeply #2) Read Online Alice May Ball

Categories Genre: Romance Tags Authors: Series: Filthy Dirty Deeply Series by Alice May Ball
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Total pages in book: 36
Estimated words: 33311 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 167(@200wpm)___ 133(@250wpm)___ 111(@300wpm)
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Friction burns between an older Sicilian Mafia fixer and a bubbly young cocktail mixologist

CLARA
My love life in Vegas has been drier than the white wine I keep in the chillers. But being at the mercy of a ruthless gang boss has crowded out any time for thoughts of love. Until the hot, dark-eyed Sicilian silver fox prowls into my life.
One smoldering look from his dark eyes and my insides melt like ice in the desert sun. Now I know how the vodka martini feels when I shake it.
Vegas has plenty of mobsters and made men. I see them in the bar every day, and I never imagined myself falling for one of them.
But that was before I felt the heat the Sicilian is packing.
If my life was my own right now, this could have been my one shot at love

MIKO
Tragedy made me swear off love forever until I saw the breathtaking young mixologist stirring her magic chemistry. One sight of her shaking and her curves reignited my fire with a single flash of her gorgeous eyes.
When a brutal gang of men come to enforce a debt on the curvy cocktail bartender, she’s ensnared in a vicious trap. They mean to take much more than she has to give, and the fear in her eyes calls out to me.
I can’t leave her to their rough demands.
But how can I save her and protect her, without falling for her heavenly curves?

Full Book:

Prologue

Miko

The moment I see those thugs corner her, my instinct is to slay them all. It would be satisfying to fell them one by one. But I’m here to prevent a war. Not to start one.

The woman’s eyes jump as the glow of her peachy face flicks between the knuckle-faced goons, turning, wet-eyed and pleading from one to another. She twitches, skittish and fearful.

In the shadows by the side of the big house, crowding her in the dark, narrow space, the huge men trap and corner her. They’re each almost as big as me.

Her soft mouth tenses with fear. She looks each of them in the eye, but the gleam in her wet eyes shows weary resignation. These men are not strangers, they’re familiar to her. She’s afraid, but she’s not totally surprised.

I’m stirred as much by her defiance as I am by the urge to protect her. The fear in her eyes makes it impossible for me to ignore her or the danger she’s obviously in. I would have felt the same even if I hadn’t met her earlier.

The other guests at the luxury Tuscan-style villa amble on the manicured lawns, cluster in packs, sloping their shoulders and puffing their chests, indifferent and seemingly unaware that mere feet away from where they laugh and chatter, a vulnerable woman is in danger.

Posing and preening like dancers in slow-motion, they gesture with cocktail glasses and champagne flutes. Plenty of them are in clear sight of the trapped woman, but no one pays any attention. They all ignore the drama as it unwraps.

Manners, standards, codes of behavior in Las Vegas are not what I would expect in Sicily. I came to the States to get a piece of business done, and I can’t wait to return.

It’s not my job to get involved in things that don’t concern me. But bullies mistreating a woman are always my concern. Women are hurt and misused all over the world, all the time. I know. I’m not a crusader, I’m no white knight on a stallion, but if someone does it where I can see them, I’ll stop them. And I’ll make sure they regret it.

This shiny, overdressed gathering is the funeral wake for the head of one of the Vegas crime families. There are more than enough hard, heavily-armed men close at hand. Any one of them could step up and help the lady.

And none of them do.

I don’t feed the rage. I let the rage rise to feed me.

Set in rolling grounds with cypress trees and a massive marble pool with fountains in the center, the villa looks like the wet dream of a set designer for porn movies. Perfectly Las Vegas. Even the marquees are draped in over-the-top black lace. Over the entrances they have neon logos to promote the casinos that provide the hospitality.

The huge cigar and sunglasses sign of the Cosa Nostra Casino and Resort welcomes guests to the dance marquee in bright neon.

Over the entrance to the cocktail tent is the glittering crown of the O’Malley Kingpin Resort. That’s where I saw her first, in the clatter and hum of the Kingpin marquee. At the far end of the tent, in the glimmer of colored lights, she glowed. As soon as I set eyes on her, I wanted to draw her. To feel her with my eyes. And with my pencil.

And to touch her.


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