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JAMESNow, I had to admit, I was slightly disappointed at how cool and calm she looked. She hadn't even broken a sweat during the fifteen minutes she was cramped inside that stinking room without a clue as to what she was doing there.Slanting my head, I continued to look at her. This was the first time I'd seen her in person. All the other two thousand, one hundred and thirteen times I'd seen that face was when I stared at a picture of her in a non-weird, non-perverted kind of way.I'd been keeping a very close eye on the Bologna, studying them-her parents, her two brothers, and her. For the last sixteen months, I'd been glued to every move that my family made. And by now I sure as hell knew a lot about Vanessa Bologna.For instance, I knew she was twenty-four years old, her birthday was February fourteen, fucking Valentine's Day, and she was in her third year at Columbia University Law School. Currently, she was home for summer vacation, one of the three times a year she visited-the others being Thanksgiving and Christmas. I also knew her family owned the Italian restaurant where I just had my lunch, the restaurant where I'd been having my lunch quite regularly lately.The Bologna pretended the restaurant was a gold mine and judging by their pizza, it probably was-and that Dante's impeccable knowledge of everything Wall Street was where they got all their wealth. But everyone knew Dante Bologna was so much more than that.Children had been disappearing like crayons at a daycare center, bodies piling up, and drugs spreading like a fucking disease on the streets. I was convinced this woman's dad was behind it all.She flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder, holding her phone in the other hand. She was texting or probably updating her F******k status for the hundredth time today.I decided to finally grace her with my presence and walked into the room."Miss Bologna, thank you for coming. I'm Detective Gunner.""Detective Gunner." She looked up at me, and the moment her eyes met mine, I was captivated. I'd seen them so many times in pictures, but it was obvious the camera didn't do them justice. Her big, round eyes were like melted chocolate swirls-dark, rich, and alluring, making me wish I could jump in and get lost inside them."Do you mind telling me what all this is about, Detective?"My gaze fell to her full, luscious, tempting red lips, and all I saw at that moment, all I thought about were eyes and lips, and about a dozen acts of sin.Fuck!This was going to be one hell of an interrogation.*****πππππππVANESSAI stared at the detective in front of me. I didn't trust him. I also knew the whole story of a receipt with my credit card number found on an armed robber last night was bullshit. My credit card wasn't stolen. Plus, I checked my bank account, and no funds were missing.What I did know was this probably had everything to do with my last name being Bologna. I might not be anything more than a rich princess, the daughter of a powerful and wealthy family, to most of the people here in Boston, but I wasn't stupid.And the way this detective was staring at me with his dark brown eyes all smoldering and confident-maybe a little too confident-I was about ninety-nine percent sure he was hoping to get some information out of me.He placed his arms on the table. "Miss Bologna, we found a credit card receipt-""No, you didn't." I didn't have time for bullshit.He narrowed his dark eyes, and a smirk started at the corners of his mouth, dimples appearing just above it. If I wasn't so annoyed that he lied to get me here, I would have taken at least ten minutes to admire him.With a sturdy, square jawline that could easily chisel granite, a five o'clock shadow, and a pair of full, appealing lips, Detective Gunner was easy on the eyes. And judging by the way he filled out his shirt and jeans, I was willing to bet he had the physique and muscle to back up all that confidence oozing out of him.I hadn't even been in the same room as this man for two minutes and I already knew his ego was bigger than fucking China's."Miss Bologna -""That's it, isn't it? It's my last name that has me here at two o'clock on a Friday afternoon, instead of drinking cocktails by the pool with my friends." I might as well act like the rich princess everyone thinks I am.That smirk was still plastered on his face as he leisurely leaned back in his chair. "I see you're a no-bullshit kind of woman.""I'm Italian, what do you expect?" I crossed my legs under the table and noticed him glance down at my lap while biting his lower lip as he slowly moved his gaze up my body."Tell me about yourself, Miss-""Something tells me you already know everything there is to know." I cocked my head, letting my dark curls slip over my shoulder.He frowned, then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone.I watched as he slid his finger across the screen."According to F******k-""You have F******k?"He glanced up at me. "Stop interrupting me.""Stop antagonizing me." I lifted a brow.He snorted and turned his attention back to his phone. "So, according to F******k," he glanced at me for a split second like he was expecting me to interrupt again, but I didn't, "Vanessa Bologna checked in at the Skin Spa in New York," he turned the screen toward me, "and she checked in five minutes ago to get some 'well-deserved pampering with my girlfriends,'" he mocked, reading my status update.Well, shit. I did not see that one coming. Well, this would teach me not to use the fifteen minutes stuck in an interrogation room to update my fake F******k page. I had a PR company doing it for me up until a few months ago.They kept messing up by posting a load of crap that clashed with some of my public appearances. Like "Vanessa is out fishing with her friends today," when in fact, I was at the new local library opening ceremony getting my picture taken with my dad and the fucking mayor-shit like that. And since when did I start going fishing? I have over a million and one persons that would love to know. And apparently, Detective Gunner was one of them.πππππππ VANESSAI decided to do this whole fake-public-profile-picture-on-social-media thing myself to protect the little privacy I did have. The issue of privacy was one of the reasons I didn't come home very often. My parents usually had to beg me relentlessly for two months straight before I eventually agreed to visit. I didn't like the way I felt when I was here in town, the way everyone made me feel. As I said, I wasn't stupid. I was not oblivious to what my father did, and neither was the rest of Bostonβthe world, for that matter. Wherever I went, I was labeled as the daughter of the infamous mafia boss everyone knew he was but was unable to prove. I'd long made peace with the knowledge that whispers would always follow me wherever I went, no matter where in the world I was. But here in Boston, my hometown, it wasn't just whisperedβit was screams. No one here even tried to be inconspicuous when they talked about me, about my family. And I hated it. I hated every secon
πππππππ VANESSAThe moment I began making a move for the door, Detective James stopped me with his voice. "We are not done yet, Miss Bologna." I made a slow turn towards him and leaned over the table, getting as close to him as possible. "I have a life I need to share with my one point two followers. I don't want to disappoint them." "I wouldn't want to interfere with that, now, would I?" His eyes darted down to my chest, and then I realized I just shoved my cleavage in his face. "See something you like, Detective?" "Absolutely." He glanced up from my cleavage to my face. "And, unlike you, I'm not afraid to admit it." I bent a little lower, purposely allowing my blouse to gape, even more, making sure he got an eyeful of something he would never have. "Believe me, I'm not afraid to admit when I see something I likeβ¦or want." "That makes you a liar, then." "And what exactly gives you that idea?" "You arching your back so you can shove your tits in my face." His eyes fli
πππππ JAMESIn life, you got two types of women. You got the women who thought they were hot, pretending like they knew how to use their bodies to get a man's attention, but they didn't. Sure, they would probably end up getting a man's attention - or his responsiveness - now and then, but only because seeing how pathetic they were guaranteed a quick and easy lay. Not a good lay, just an easy one. You know, like a good jerk-off in the shower. It didn't satisfy you completely, but it was sufficient to get you through the day. And then you got the kind of women who didn't need to use their bodies to get a man's attention at all. They didn't walk around thinking, "If I sway my ass a little to this side, and then a little to that side, I'll get the men drooling." No. They walked the way they walked, and they talked the way they talked. And without even trying, sexual energy seeped through every pore, sensuality emanating from their every move, and they wore eroticism like a second s
πππππJAMESA month? A fucking month? "Are you serious? You want to take Bambi away from me?""Who the fuck is Bambi?"I tap against the gun at my side. "This sweet little thang right here.""Well, that sweet little thang is no longer yours. Bambi and badge on my desk in five."Goddammit."Way to go, dumbass," Larry sneered from the side.I wanted to smash his face in, but assaulting a fellow officer would be the final nail in my career coffin right now. Besides, I needed to act like a grownup, not letting insults get to me."I knew your brown ass wouldn't last around here."Ah, fuck. How was I supposed to act like the grownup now?"It's African, you fucking tit-head!" I launched myself forward and punched him in the face, hammering that last nail into my now-dead career. And since that career was already bolted shut with a fuck-load of nails, I punched the asshole again. Why? Because I fucking wanted to. It was like trashing the school with toilet paper. You didn't know why the
πππππππVANESSAAbout five years ago, the heat on my father and his activities was pretty intense. Until the Morellos moved in on what my dad called our territory. Then the heat got worse as the Morellos started wreaking havoc on the streets. I wasn't exactly sure what they did, but by the way, my dad and brothers always cursed whenever the subject of the Morellos came up, I'd say it was pretty bad shit.Still scrolling down James' page, I decided there wasn't much else to see or to stalk. So, I went back to my page, contemplating whether I should remove James Gunner as a follower. He was probably using it to keep tabs on me, watching me, waiting for me to slip up so he could get what he wantedβincriminating shit on my family. Plus, now he knew ninety per cent of my status updates were bullshit anyway. What if he called me out on it?While I stared at the screen, a notification popped up saying James Gunner commented on your post.Shit, shit, shit.I slid my finger across the s
πππππJAMESI stepped into my apartment to meet it as neat and perfect as I left it. It was so motherfucking clean that if you wanted, you could sleep inside my toilet. If you took into consideration what my apartment looked like, you'd say I was a neat freak. My sister would die a slow and painful death if she saw this place because she knows she'll never be able to keep up.There were empty beer bottles neatly tucked in the corner of the living room. From where I stood, my kitchen looked as white as snow, all my utensils were shining as if a star had hit them or something. You couldn't find one microwavable plastic instant meal container anywhere in the kitchen sink, and empty cans of soda were nearly nonexistent around the house. Although I used them to quench my morning-after thirst, I made sure there were no traces of them on the counter.The way most people saw it, I was a detective, not a domesticated pansy. I should have much better things to do with my time than cleaning
πππππJAMESRoman stared at me for what felt like a million years. He looked apprehensive as if he was trying to gauge how the formation was going to affect me. After a few more seconds, I couldn't take it again. "Roman!" I grunted, sending him a scowl.Roman rolled his eyes and nodded his head. "Okay, okay, chill. Now answer me this, when did the Morello's move into town, Gunner?""Five years ago," I replied. And then I clicked. I suddenly understood where he was going with this. "But it doesn't fit into the timeframe of all the child disappearances," I reasoned. If what Roman Anderson was trying to tell me was true, then he would have to make it all fit in my head. If not, It was going to be pretty difficult for me to believe him. It wasn't my fault. That was just how detectives were wired.Roman lifted a brow, the corner of his mouth twitching. "If you're as smart as you think you are, you'll know it was about five years ago that drugs started to flow into these streets." He s
πππππππ VANESSA I stared at my phone and wondered if I should update my status and let the world know I was on my way to Daniel's birthday party at Bolivia nightclub. But that would be stupid. Plus, it would be a recipe for a stampede. If I were honest with myself, I'd admit the only reason I would want to do something so stupid would be to see if he was still keeping an eye on my profile. And would he react? Or would he suspect it was just another ruse, a ploy at creating a little entertainment for my followers? God, I felt so pathetic even considering it. In any case, I wouldn't want to do anything to jeopardize the little freedom my brothers and I were given. Usually, our dad didn't condone us hanging out at bars or nightclubs, and we hardly ever did. Being Italian came with a lot of rules and family morals everyone needed to adhere to. From an early age, we were taught to wear sophistication as a second skin and never to disgrace the family. We were