"Marcell." Olivia gasped. I captured her bottom lip between mine.
"Hush," I said. She was putty in my arms.
I was dirty, sick, and marked by death, and like some selfish succubus, I was sucking the purity out of the one thing in my life that had light. Always terrified of the darkness that threatened to take me over.
***
The old men of the Chicago Syndicate threaten to overthrow Marcell from being Don.
Olivia struggles as Junior Associate in Chicago's most prestigious law firm.
Two souls destined for each other in a world designed to keep them apart.
***
"What's this?"
Marcell's shirt was untucked and unbuttoned, revealing his muscled chest.
"Neutral ground," Marcell said. He took slow steps towards me. "It's neither yours, nor is it mine."
"It's ours." His hands found purchase on my hips. "We are just Olivia and Marcell. A man. A woman."
"What do you need, Marcell?"
"You."

Blind Trust with the Don is created by Anastasia O'hare, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

Blind Trust with the Don

“He looks like shit.” A familiar voice pushed its way through the fog of my mind. 


“I think he deserves to look like shit. Especially after all that he’s been through.” A feminine voice that sounded equally as familiar to me pipped up. 


The dull idleness of my brain had a hard time registering the faces that the voices belonged to. But I knew them. Down the very fiber of my being, I knew that I knew them. Pushing against the cotton that was stuffed inside my brain. I tried to force clarity through the confusion.


“Where’s Olivia?” The male voice asked. 


My heart stuttered. Racing at the sound of her name. The name that kept me clinging to life. A fresh wave of memories came flooding back to me. Shamus. Gun. Shamus, and a gun aimed at me. Shamus firing the gun. Me bleeding out on the floor of a conference room that I should have burnt down instead of remodeling. 


Chapter 45: Rip Tide.