Crescendo - B*M* Book #1 SAMPLE

Chapter 1 | Oil

WARNING: THIS STORY WILL BE REMOVED ON WED MAY 10th! Why? I'm publishing the fully edited version of the novel on itunes and Amazon! Thank you all so much for your support. The book will be released next Saturday, May 13th and YOU can score your copy now for just .99 cents!

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Daniela

We used to play Tic Tac Toe as children, in the dirt with sticks. Now we play Eeny, Meenie, Minie, Moe with the lives of the two bloodied men standing naked on the ornate rug before us. One can barely see, on account of both of his eyes are swollen, so he frantically eyes the wall a few inches away from Vinny while the other glances down at the floor, muttering prayers under his breath.

Dressed to kill in a tailored suit, Vinny takes his sweet time observing them both. His fingers caress the narrow muzzle of the pistol he cradles in one hand. The other drifts from broken man to broken man while he murmurs a child's rhyme in a guttural tone. "Eeny, Meenie, Minie, motherfucker...which one should I kill first?" He inclines his head in my direction, ever the gentleman. "Lynn?"

I swallow hard and tug on the sleeve of my sweater. Two hours ago it was a neatly hemmed number in soft pink. Now it's bloodstained, the ends of the sleeve ragged and torn. "Really, Vinny. You don't have to..." I break off and try again. No one tells Vinny what to do, ever. Not even me. "I'm fine. Really."

It would take more than this to ruin my night. This beautiful, perfect night which should have ended with a nice bubble bath. Not here, in Vinny's office with the scent of blood in the air and the inevitable promise of death tainting the atmosphere.

I glanced down at my throbbing hands, surprised by the numerous scratches that mar them. They contradict my lie and I curl them up into fists, even though I know it's already too late. I'm fine.

Regardless, Vinny doesn't even look in my direction. His mind is made up. He's in a mood. His thumb greedily traces the trigger of his gun, eager to let a bullet fly. His brown eyes are glazed with dangerous lust.

He's in a mood. Something must have happened, even before he caught wind of my little adventure tonight. The poor fools who tried to mug me are merely collateral damage.

My heart picks up speed, my spine tensing. I've seen Vinny like this only a handful of times before—but the memories hit me like a fist to the stomach.

"Really," I croak out against his back. "I'm fine—"

"Sit down, Daniela."

I flinch. My full name is a dangerous sound coming out of his mouth. Lynn is his puppy: his favorite toy. Daniela is just a little girl in danger of disobeying her master.

My jaw snaps shut and I stagger a few steps past him to collapse on one of the plush arm chairs that is positioned to face his desk. His office is one of the few places I hate most in the world. What, in a normal world, would typically be designated for stuffy business meetings and faulty computer terminals, in Vinny's hands an "office" takes on a broader purpose. It's his arena. His showroom. My cage.

I warily scan the oak-paneled walls. They're polished to shine and reflect the rest of the room back to me: hardwood floors and exactly two windows, each one framed by black curtains. There is another leather armchair across from mine, flanked by Vinny's massive desk which takes up the center of the room. Vinny's reflection is like a dark smudge over the scenery while the two men before him flicker the way a candle flame does when it's in danger of going out.