Read Online Havok: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance by Riley Rollins - Free Book Online
Authors: Riley Rollins
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getting complicated.
15
Penny
I only hear one side of the phone conversation, but I don't fucking like the sound of it.
It sounds like Havok's telling someone that he killed me . And he refuses to tell me why I'm in danger. There's so much about him that just doesn't add up. Something big is happening. I just don't know what it is yet.
I dip my hand into my purse and clutch my last pill bottle. I'm going to need lots of medication to get through this. I wish I had more, because I have no idea how I'm going to refill while I'm here.
Havok stuffs his phone back into his pocket. "Come on," he says.
I follow him to the front entrance, a set of wood double doors carved with an ornate classical scene. They look big and heavy, but as soon as he turns the key, he gives one door a push with his index finger and it swings open easily. "Balanced weight," he says.
The interior takes my breath away. There's no foyer; the house is just one big open room. The ceiling, constructed from logs, is high and pitched. An elevated loft encircles the room, and a beautiful, spacious kitchen spans the distant wall. The floors are natural stone slabs. But the most stunning feature of the house is the natural waterfall that's built right into it. One entire wall flows with water, the droplets cascading down the earth-cut stone.
If this is going to be my prison, I could do a lot worse. But this is just way off. It makes no sense for a bouncer to have a home like this.
I instantly think of all the Russian mafia men who patronize the club.
Could Havok be one of them? I never made the connection before, but what else could it be? I want to question him, but I don't dare. Not now.
Instead, I just whisper, "This is incredible."
Havok smirks. "Incredible doesn't begin to describe it. It's a masterpiece."
Then, my stomach suddenly rumbles and I realize that I'm starving. "Hey," I say. "Would you be mad if I eat something?"
Havok frowns. "Why would that make me mad?"
I instantly feel stupid, and hope I haven't offended him. "I'm sorry. I'm just… so used to Brock. Everything made him mad."
Havok crosses his arms. The muscles in his forearm bulge, the smooth but hard veins standing out from his tanned skin. It sends an electric buzz through my thighs, all the way to my nipples.
"I'm not him," Havok says. "And stop apologizing for everything."
I almost say "sorry" again, but catch myself just in time. I finally pry my eyes away from his sculpted arms.
No, Brock he is not.
"One more thing," he adds. "Don't ever say that name in my house again."
I swallow hard and nod.
"We'll go out for food tonight," he says. "Right now, I have to go back to West Ark. And while I'm gone, I have to make sure you don't go anywhere."
16
Havok
I lead her to the stairs, and we climb to the suspended loft that overlooks the interior of the house. I walk behind her, watching her ass in those tight blue jeans as she climbs. Fuck, it looks so tight and bubbly, and I have to fight myself not to reach out and grab her hips.
I'm always horny as fuck after a hit. I think it's all the adrenaline. But now is really not the time. And the truth is, I still have all the same reservations I did before. This is already way more than I bargained for, and if we get involved, I'm afraid now more than ever that she'll end up like Irina. I don't know if I'll be able to fucking resist her, with her under the same roof as me, but I have to try.
The loft is a giant U-shape, with the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, and the guest room on the opposite side of the U. The open wall is where the waterfall is.
"You get the guest room," I say.
"Oh." She seems surprised that a guy like me has a guest room.
We enter it, and I flip on the lights. It's small but modern, decorated with blonde oak furniture imported from Copenhagen.
"Oh my gosh," she says, taking it in. "This is… nothing like my old place."
"Bathroom is equipped," I say. "Use what you need and get cleaned up. Get
15
Penny
I only hear one side of the phone conversation, but I don't fucking like the sound of it.
It sounds like Havok's telling someone that he killed me . And he refuses to tell me why I'm in danger. There's so much about him that just doesn't add up. Something big is happening. I just don't know what it is yet.
I dip my hand into my purse and clutch my last pill bottle. I'm going to need lots of medication to get through this. I wish I had more, because I have no idea how I'm going to refill while I'm here.
Havok stuffs his phone back into his pocket. "Come on," he says.
I follow him to the front entrance, a set of wood double doors carved with an ornate classical scene. They look big and heavy, but as soon as he turns the key, he gives one door a push with his index finger and it swings open easily. "Balanced weight," he says.
The interior takes my breath away. There's no foyer; the house is just one big open room. The ceiling, constructed from logs, is high and pitched. An elevated loft encircles the room, and a beautiful, spacious kitchen spans the distant wall. The floors are natural stone slabs. But the most stunning feature of the house is the natural waterfall that's built right into it. One entire wall flows with water, the droplets cascading down the earth-cut stone.
If this is going to be my prison, I could do a lot worse. But this is just way off. It makes no sense for a bouncer to have a home like this.
I instantly think of all the Russian mafia men who patronize the club.
Could Havok be one of them? I never made the connection before, but what else could it be? I want to question him, but I don't dare. Not now.
Instead, I just whisper, "This is incredible."
Havok smirks. "Incredible doesn't begin to describe it. It's a masterpiece."
Then, my stomach suddenly rumbles and I realize that I'm starving. "Hey," I say. "Would you be mad if I eat something?"
Havok frowns. "Why would that make me mad?"
I instantly feel stupid, and hope I haven't offended him. "I'm sorry. I'm just… so used to Brock. Everything made him mad."
Havok crosses his arms. The muscles in his forearm bulge, the smooth but hard veins standing out from his tanned skin. It sends an electric buzz through my thighs, all the way to my nipples.
"I'm not him," Havok says. "And stop apologizing for everything."
I almost say "sorry" again, but catch myself just in time. I finally pry my eyes away from his sculpted arms.
No, Brock he is not.
"One more thing," he adds. "Don't ever say that name in my house again."
I swallow hard and nod.
"We'll go out for food tonight," he says. "Right now, I have to go back to West Ark. And while I'm gone, I have to make sure you don't go anywhere."
16
Havok
I lead her to the stairs, and we climb to the suspended loft that overlooks the interior of the house. I walk behind her, watching her ass in those tight blue jeans as she climbs. Fuck, it looks so tight and bubbly, and I have to fight myself not to reach out and grab her hips.
I'm always horny as fuck after a hit. I think it's all the adrenaline. But now is really not the time. And the truth is, I still have all the same reservations I did before. This is already way more than I bargained for, and if we get involved, I'm afraid now more than ever that she'll end up like Irina. I don't know if I'll be able to fucking resist her, with her under the same roof as me, but I have to try.
The loft is a giant U-shape, with the master bedroom at the top of the stairs, and the guest room on the opposite side of the U. The open wall is where the waterfall is.
"You get the guest room," I say.
"Oh." She seems surprised that a guy like me has a guest room.
We enter it, and I flip on the lights. It's small but modern, decorated with blonde oak furniture imported from Copenhagen.
"Oh my gosh," she says, taking it in. "This is… nothing like my old place."
"Bathroom is equipped," I say. "Use what you need and get cleaned up. Get
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