Sold to the Italian Mafia Boss by Rosalie Rose EPUB & PDF – eBook Details
- Author: Rosalie Rose
- Language: English
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 1 MB
- Price: Free
This is stupid.
It’s the thought running on a loop through my mind as I walk fast down
the wet black sidewalks of Dublin’s downtown. This is so, so stupid. I’ve
lived half my life in Ireland and half in the United States. I know when it’s
wise to hit the streets, and I know when it’s an invitation for drama.
For someone like me, drama often means danger—and the real kind, too.
The kind you don’t always come back from. Dad would kill me himself if he
knew. Of course, he would. That’s what happens when your father is the
head of an Irish mob syndicate. The standards shift. An average twentyfive-year-old woman would usually be fine with a taser in her coat pocket
on a dark city night, head ducked against the wind and spraying rain.
But I’m not an average twenty-five-year-old woman. Am I?
This is so fucking stupid.
When my phone buzzes, my heart jolts hard in my chest. I duck into the
old cracked shell of a bus stop, the plexiglass webbed and rippling with
rain. Overhead, the butter-colored streetlight flickers hard once, then twice,
before snapping out and shoving me into darkness. Well, if that’s not a
“Hello?” I bring the phone to my ear, eyes skirting the opposite curb. But
the old residential buildings are, for the most part, dark, and there isn’t a
soul in sight. One lone beater comes kicking down the way, rain slashing
off its wheels. Then it’s gone, and I’m alone with the silence on the other
end of the line. “Are you there?”
“Is this Kate McNamara?” The voice is hard and low, male, twisted with
the brogue of an Italian accent.
I hesitate. But what’s the point? I know what I’m doing, right? I hope I
know what I’m doing. “Yes. This is Kate.”
“Do you know who I am?”
I swallow the hard stone that forms in my throat. “Yes.”
I bite my cheek. Well, you came out here for this. Didn’t you? This is
what you wanted, isn’t it, Kate? “Your name is Giorgio Rosso. You…”
“I, what?” There’s a hyena hint in his voice. An eagerness that’s primal,
that smells like fire. “Go on.”
“You used to work for Luca Romano.” His name is brimstone on my
tongue. A Romano is a name I’ve heard my whole life, almost as much as
I’ve heard my own. Spoken with almost as much fear. “My father owes him
“And I want to see it paid.”
He chuckles, following the cold, amused sound with more silence. This
time I wait, too, listening to the rain as it thickens and drums on the
rooftops as it comes down in skeins, fluttering through the distant
streetlights. Finally, Giorgio says, “And how do you think you’re going to
go about that, Ms. McNamara?”
I steel my spine. “I can pay for it.”
“How do you think? With money. Collateral. My…” I hesitate, reaching
for the edge of the bus stop frame to steady myself. I think of my father. I
put more steel in my voice. “My father is stubborn. An old-fashioned
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