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Special chapter
9 hours and she still hadn't finished her work. Sam sighed cleaning her desk as she looked at the clock on the opposite wall. She was trapped in the room. Why did she have to cover for her brother? She frowned and snorted. She now herself she could she be outside with the rest of the people celebrating.
What were they celebrating again?
- It's quiet tonight, isn't it?- Sandra asked as she opened the door.- I don't know, I'm not even meant to be here right now, but I said I'd cover for it after he did me a favor last night.
- What a mistake, why didn't you take any of the other shifts he has?
- I couldn't, he doesn't have any convenient shift and so I can't write- she sighed, frowning at the clock again, she should have fun tonight.
- Is everyone out tonight?
- So it seems- she pouted and dropped the manuscript he was holding.
- Do you want a neck massage?
- PleRelated chapters
The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
-Please!-Not.-Please!.-Not.-Come on mom. Please.-I have said no.-You're boring.-YesSamantha frowns at the two dwarfs who shoot her hateful glances.-I do not care. You can look at me however you want.-Papa would let us go.-Yes.-Well, it's too bad that dad isn't there -announces she looking out the window with concern.-It's just a little snow- says her eldest five-year-old son, pulling her out of the window. She is not going to happen anything. Stop worrying and let us come out and play.Sam looks at him annoyed. The damn brat could read her like an open book, just like her father.-Now he is falling very hard. In a little while, when it stops snowing.-When it stops snowing the snow will disappear! The boy growls.-Bored- the girl shouts again.-Yes. A horrible and hateful boring –Sam answers, taking the little over a two-year-old girl in he
The mobster and the writer 1
My Valentine's date was called Acer. It was red. Beautiful.We met through my brother just on my birthday and since then we have not separated. He was the most incredible thing in this world, he loved everything I threw at him, which was quite a lot, and he didn't complain that he had to work hard because he was always by my side. He didn't bother if I wanted to spend the whole afternoon lying on the couch watching Gossip Girl with him. He didn't care about anything. It was almost perfect. Almost, because I always needed a cable or a battery. He was very dependent on them. Yeah, well, my Valentine's date was my laptop, and our plan was for me to make some progress on the romance novel that I had to deliver at the end of the month. The life of a romantic writer is not easy and in my case, it was not even romantic.My name is Samantha, if, as the protagonist of the Bewitched series, my mother was a big fan and hence my name. I walk my brother was somewhere in the c
The mobster and the writer 2
What if they were the sex slave type? I started hyperventilating, imagining the life I was going to have to lead from now on, and without realizing it I started crying. He threw me on the couch and I fell bouncing sideways, causing Salem to come out and utter my tears. He liked salt. I thought maybe he was just going to rob me and now that he had seen it he would have to kill me. Who would expect someone to be in my house on Valentine's Day? If he killed me, who would take care of Salem? Rob? I started thinking about Rob my brother. Without me I would have no one to call every day in the afternoon, nor would I have a cook on weekendsBefore I could begin to beg for my life, my abductor shoved something into my mouth. Poison. My eyes widened and I began to shake until an unexpected taste began to flow through my mouth. Could be...? It was...? I had scooped ice cream into myself. I stared at him without understanding anything.- You are a very annoying cutie. I'm not goi
The mobster and the writer 3
And the door to my apartment opened. Shit. I didn't even look up, lest I think it was an act of rebellion or something like that. I did not want to be tortured, I liked all my fingers and my skin was marked very easily. I didn't want souvenir bruises, thanks. Against all my principles, I stood still with my head down. Submissive, so I trembled because the only sound that had warned me of his presence was that of his soldier boots that echoed in my ears like the detonation of a bomb. I braced myself for the worst, for a kick or a punch. Without realizing it, I began to cry silently, all the waiting was killing what few nerves I had left. Without even speaking, he was killing me. I heard another sound, cloth slipping, wrinkling. A hand touched my face and lifted my chin.- Hello - A deep and kind voice told me. His breath was soft and warm. Was nice. I opened my eyes almost out of inertia.- Oh - It was the only thing I could mutter before seeing myself caught my e
The mobster and the writer 4
We finally came to a black SUV. I would swear I fell in love with that car then. It was the car of my dreams. As a child, I had wanted a car like that, which would make other drivers look at me in amazement and with respect. I imagined myself in there, smirking and wearing Hunter's glasses ... Okay, yes, Hunter's, which would be in the glove compartment and we would both share. My imagination has no limits.Hunter entered the back with me, not speaking to me and not allowing G to sit next to me. I thanked him silently in two thousand different ways. It hadn't crossed my mind that G wasn't aware of our positions, because when he saw us he narrowed his eyes and shook his head.- It's your car, Hunter. You should drive - He leaned against the door. What a mania this man had for leaning on the edges of doors!- I'm afraid of leaving Samantha by your side. You could gag her and tie her up like a sack of potatoes. I think he deserves a break from your company an
The mobster and the writer 5
- I like it- He shrugged- I like different things- The last thing was directed at me and I will send it myself.Did he like it? Was I different? Was this man sane?G ignored him and sat on the couch, stretching out full length and yawning the way a bear would. It was a great distraction. Seeing him like that made me laugh. The tender vein came out at that moment. He looked tired and vulnerable. He was not as scary as before and he looked younger as if he had removed a giant mask. It was nice to see him as an ordinary human being, not as a mob killing machine (if he killed because I had only taken one bullet from him). Hunter was lost somewhere and I had work to do, so I sat down by an outlet on the floor and turned on my laptop. The story wasn't going to end on its own and I didn't feel like hearing my editor yelling at me like crazy for being late with the delivery. I was almost always late. My followers were more
The mobster and the writer 6
Don't even take my things. Not my laptop. Nothing. I wanted to get out so badly that I didn't think I was leaving important things behind. I just knew I had to get away fast before Hunter caught me. Just as I opened the door, a wall came in, crashing into me and throwing me backward. I landed on my ass with a groan. That had hurt. I must have broken my sacrum. I leaned on my hands and got up like a small child.Who else would it be? The idiot was watching me from the door with a grimace much like a smirk on his face. I hated it. Every second that passed I swear I hated him a little more. His eyes seemed n sizzle with excitement insulting enough for me: Fun. I swear I was going to kill that kid. Sooner or later he was going to kill him sleeping.- Where are you going, cutie?- He raised an eyebrow style: There is no excuse that will be valid, but I want to see you say nonsense yes.-Far from you crazy killers. - I kicked in the crotch l style angels of Charl
The mobster and the writer 7
Cami took me on a motorcycle.Motorcycle? Since when did girls like Cami ride motorcycles?Maybe before I didn't make it very clear what Cami was like. She was tall. Much taller than me. She had a very good figure, that is, she was good. Point. Next to him, I looked like the garbage you remove from your feet when you wear sandals in summer. He had an especially pretty and smiling face. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves that looked like they were made by a professional hairdresser. I wondered if he could fix my head nest. Shook my head. He was a hairdresser, not a sorcerer. His eyes were not quite blue but seemed to mix with a light gray. In front of me, I had a model girl. Those girls don't like motorcycles. Pink car hits them.Me and my precious prejudices.He handed me a helmet and I raised my eyebrows. A black helmet with patterned flames was what I leas
Latest chapter
- The mobster and the writer Special chapter 2
- The mobster and the writer Special chapter
- The mobster and the writer Epilogue
- The mobster and the writer The end
- The mobster and the writer 33
- The mobster and the writer 32
- The mobster and the writer 31
- The mobster and the writer 30
- The mobster and the writer 29
