Page 2 of The Mobster's Angel

And today I know for a fact that the Rossi family is away, skiing in the French Alps, pissing away even more money that they won’t be able to repay.

I’m glad.

Because their absence means that today she won't tease me with that damn bikini. A bikini that reveals too much while hiding the nipples I long to suck and the pussy I'm desperate to lick.

It's sick, but I love the torture.

And god help me, but Iambeing tortured as she lifts the hem of her T-shirt over her head.

She slides her shorts down over the round curve of her hips next. And I can't help it. I reach into my own shorts.

I could claim that I'm merely adjusting myself, trying to offset the physical discomfort her innocent strip tease causes.

But that would be a lie.

Nothing about my rough grip on my cock alleviates anything. Each stroke only feeds my obsession, intensifies my torment.

And this mixture of desire and the desperate need to protect her, to keep her safe from other men, is nothing if not torment.

It takes every ounce of strength I have not to go over there and throw her over my shoulder. I’d wrap her in a towel first, of course.

The only thing that has stopped me so far is knowing that nobody else can see her.

That was a lie.

I’m good at lying to myself. Sometimes it’s the only way I can sleep at night.

No, that’s not the only reason I don’t go over there—although it is a damn good one.

The reason I don’t drop everything and steal her away to be with me is because I don’t deserve her.

She’s an angel. An absolute white dove amongst a backdrop of pain and hurt and crime. She can’t even make eye contact with me—that’s how pure she is. How unsure of herself and the world she unknowingly inhabits.

Olivia Thomas may be mine, but she is not meant for my world.

CHAPTERONE

Jack

I'm in trouble.

I can't deny it any longer. This is spiraling out of control.

I've crossed so many lines. And I keep crossing them.

But the frightening part is that I want to cross so many more.

At first, I justified my surveillance of Olivia as simply part of my job. The Rossi family needed to be watched, and keeping tabs on her was just one part of that.

Admittedly, it was an extremely enjoyable aspect of the job. But it was still just a job.

When my surveillance crossed the line into stalking, I rationalized that, too. Sure, she consumed my waking thoughts. Yes, tracking her movements was becoming an obsession.

But it was an obsession that I was able to contain. There were limits to it.

Watch her. Protect her. Keep my distance.

But lately, my obsession with my angel has become a full-blown addiction.

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