––––––––
M y life, as I knew it, had changed. I was now second-in-command of a large drug-dealing organization, which is run by my father.
I had gone from Sydney-Australian girl to feared, well-known Los Angeles woman. I had no idea what my father did when I decided to move to Los Angeles with him. I lived with my mother in Australia in a city called Blacktown. It may have been a shady place, but you learned fast how to handle yourself. I handled myself by boxing; I trained five days a week.
When my father finally told me what he did, and that his financial company was a cover, I was floored. I knew he earned plenty of money, I just didn’t think it came from something so illegal, or that my loving father would least of all be running it.
He told me how it was run by his father before him, and he needed me to learn the ropes if I wanted a part of this. I agreed, as I was the only child and would do anything my father had asked me to do, even if it was illegal.
I idolized my father on so many levels; he has always been great toward me and helped me achieve anything I wanted. Today, I was going to meet an associate of his on the East Coast. He was my father’s other right-hand man. If there were drama in my part of the city to handle, I would deal with them; on the East Coast, it was Stefanos’ job. I still have yet to meet him, though I have heard quite a lot about him from my father and his workmen.
I have a bodyguard with me all the time and his name is Matt, though I prefer to call him The Rock. He is built like him and had so many similarities, apart from the fact he hates to talk; he grunts or head nods. I’ve still yet to hear two full sentences out of that man’s mouth.
I have been working and learning the ropes for two years now, basically as soon as I stepped off the plane. I now have so much money; I don’t know what to do with it. I still currently live with my father in his mansion, because I don’t see the point of leaving; that house can hold four full families, and it’s only him and me living there.
Before I leave for the airport, I throw on the most casual clothing I own so as not to bring attention to myself and dress like an early-twenties girl would dress. I picked a pair of short-shorts that currently show off my tiger tattoo on my outer thigh and a ripped shirt that displays my lily tattoos on my ribs. I check my hair, put it in a tight ponytail on top of my head and am ready to go. I don’t bother with make-up, as I have my mother’s flawless skin and my father’s long, dark hair and brown eyes.
“Krínos, play nice,” my father warns me as I am about to leave; I blow him a kiss and follow Rock to the car.
We arrive on time in New York and find the car waiting for us; Rock drives us to my father’s company.
We pull up at Contos Finance and head to the top floor. Once we reached it, we find it very empty, apart from a single attractive lady sitting behind the desk.
“Hi, we’re here to see Stefanos,” I tell her. She asks our names and calls to tell him who’s here. I hear his voice on the speaker and hope to God he doesn’t look as good as he sounds.
We make our way to his office, and just as we get there, the door comes flying open. I take a step back, and out struts the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.
He walks over to me, and I take him in. He is in a clean-cut, black suit with the most panty-dropping features any man has ever had. He has a masculine-looking face with high cheekbones; stunning, big brown eyes with long eyelashes; and his flawless olive skin only helps his perfect face. His body looks like that of a boxer with wide chest and arms.
He walks over to me, very professionally, and just as he gets to me, his rough, calloused fingers lift up my now-gaping mouth. I look him in the eyes and see the smile in them.
“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but try to keep your mouth shut,” he whispers near my ear; now, that pisses me off.
I fling
M y life, as I knew it, had changed. I was now second-in-command of a large drug-dealing organization, which is run by my father.
I had gone from Sydney-Australian girl to feared, well-known Los Angeles woman. I had no idea what my father did when I decided to move to Los Angeles with him. I lived with my mother in Australia in a city called Blacktown. It may have been a shady place, but you learned fast how to handle yourself. I handled myself by boxing; I trained five days a week.
When my father finally told me what he did, and that his financial company was a cover, I was floored. I knew he earned plenty of money, I just didn’t think it came from something so illegal, or that my loving father would least of all be running it.
He told me how it was run by his father before him, and he needed me to learn the ropes if I wanted a part of this. I agreed, as I was the only child and would do anything my father had asked me to do, even if it was illegal.
I idolized my father on so many levels; he has always been great toward me and helped me achieve anything I wanted. Today, I was going to meet an associate of his on the East Coast. He was my father’s other right-hand man. If there were drama in my part of the city to handle, I would deal with them; on the East Coast, it was Stefanos’ job. I still have yet to meet him, though I have heard quite a lot about him from my father and his workmen.
I have a bodyguard with me all the time and his name is Matt, though I prefer to call him The Rock. He is built like him and had so many similarities, apart from the fact he hates to talk; he grunts or head nods. I’ve still yet to hear two full sentences out of that man’s mouth.
I have been working and learning the ropes for two years now, basically as soon as I stepped off the plane. I now have so much money; I don’t know what to do with it. I still currently live with my father in his mansion, because I don’t see the point of leaving; that house can hold four full families, and it’s only him and me living there.
Before I leave for the airport, I throw on the most casual clothing I own so as not to bring attention to myself and dress like an early-twenties girl would dress. I picked a pair of short-shorts that currently show off my tiger tattoo on my outer thigh and a ripped shirt that displays my lily tattoos on my ribs. I check my hair, put it in a tight ponytail on top of my head and am ready to go. I don’t bother with make-up, as I have my mother’s flawless skin and my father’s long, dark hair and brown eyes.
“Krínos, play nice,” my father warns me as I am about to leave; I blow him a kiss and follow Rock to the car.
We arrive on time in New York and find the car waiting for us; Rock drives us to my father’s company.
We pull up at Contos Finance and head to the top floor. Once we reached it, we find it very empty, apart from a single attractive lady sitting behind the desk.
“Hi, we’re here to see Stefanos,” I tell her. She asks our names and calls to tell him who’s here. I hear his voice on the speaker and hope to God he doesn’t look as good as he sounds.
We make our way to his office, and just as we get there, the door comes flying open. I take a step back, and out struts the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.
He walks over to me, and I take him in. He is in a clean-cut, black suit with the most panty-dropping features any man has ever had. He has a masculine-looking face with high cheekbones; stunning, big brown eyes with long eyelashes; and his flawless olive skin only helps his perfect face. His body looks like that of a boxer with wide chest and arms.
He walks over to me, very professionally, and just as he gets to me, his rough, calloused fingers lift up my now-gaping mouth. I look him in the eyes and see the smile in them.
“I know it’s hard, sweetheart, but try to keep your mouth shut,” he whispers near my ear; now, that pisses me off.
I fling
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