Total pages in book: 85
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 83430 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 417(@200wpm)___ 334(@250wpm)___ 278(@300wpm)
And now he’s my future husband.
I only tried to cool off on a steamy afternoon… and ended up giving a gorgeous monster the view of his life.
I’m absolutely mortified, until his peep show turns into something more.
My afternoon delight is Brenden McGrath, a sinfully gorgeous mafia thief with ice in his veins, blood on his hands, and no patience for fools.
I thought it was a one-time mistake until my father informs me that I will be marrying Brenden whether I like it or not.
My new husband’s frozen on the inside but blistering behind closed doors.
He takes me apart but never reveals an inch of himself.
We want nothing to do with each other, right until my younger brother gets in trouble with the Armenian mafia.
Now Brenden’s the only man who can save my family, and I have to convince my impossible, secretive husband to help, no matter what it costs him.
All he asks for in return is my obedience… and my body in his bed every night.
Broken Mercy is a full-length standalone novel with plenty of steam, banter, and a guaranteed HEA
*************FULL BOOK START HERE*************
CHAPTER 1
TALIN
I’m about to rip my shirt off.
It’s mid-August in Baltimore and this house is sweltering. The Davis couple is ancient, and I mean that with all due respect: I’m pretty sure the husband is like ninety-seven and his wife is a few years older than that. Their Fells Point townhouse is wildly stuffy and I swear they’re running the radiators. Everyone’s sweating at this packed garden party, held at the height of day, and there’s no escape from the heat, but I can’t take it anymore. The first chance I get, when Papa and Annie are distracted by mingling and laughing and doing the whole social thing to perfection, I slip away from the crowd and sneak up the back steps.
I find an office with its door standing ajar. I storm in, already unbuttoning my cream silk blouse. “Oh my god my tits are melting,” I groan to myself and gasp with delight when I spot a fan standing in the corner. I run over, switch it on, and let out an erotic sigh of relief as the air blows over my exposed chest.
“Oh my god that’s heaven,” I say, tilting my head back with a groan of pleasure. Sweat dribbles down my underarms. It’s sticky and gross, and I’m sure I’ll have big dark circles soon if I don’t dry off. This fan is exactly what I needed; it blows through my thick, dark hair, the bane of my existence, even though Mama and Annie both say it’s beautiful and I shouldn’t complain about it so much, but I’d love to see them hefting all this around when it’s a hundred degrees and humid.
I fan my blouse, letting my bra dry. I’m aware this is not how a lady is supposed to act, but come on, it’s wetter than a dog’s dick out there and just as miserable. Besides, Annie’s got enough perfection going for the both of us. My older sister can walk into a room, flash one pristine smile, and have everyone fawning over her in moments. It doesn’t hurt she’s blond, beautiful, outgoing, smart, and funny. I love her to death, but those are some impossible standards right there. She’s everything Papa always wanted in a daughter, and since Mariam got married and moved to Boston, and Tate’s out in DC and not really a part of the family anymore, it’s up to me and Annie to carry on the Sarkissian female legacy.
Which Annie does with grace and talent, while I stumble around behind her, the awkward youngest girl, neither good enough or willing to try much harder than I already am.
Once my boobs are sufficiently cooled off and my head’s starting to work, I put my hands on my hips, blouse still very much open, and look around the room.
Which is when I notice the man standing near the window watching me with a bemused smile.
I freeze. My mind goes blank. I rushed in here thinking it would be empty and didn’t bother checking the corners. I opened up my top, exposed my breasts to the cool breeze, and didn’t have a single care in the world.
While this guy got to enjoy the show.
“How… how long… have you been there?!” I’m stuttering and off balance.
“The whole time.” His voice is low and resonant. There’s not an inch of embarrassment in him, while I’m mortified. What would Annie do in this situation? She’d probably make some clever remark about how nice her tits are and how lucky he is, and everyone would forget this silly faux pas.
I’m not Annie.
“Who the heck are you?! And what are you doing in here?” I blurt my questions out with about as much tact as the floor fan blasting sweat from my ample cleavage. I don’t have much working for me, but at least I got my figure from my mother’s side of the family. Curves all the way down.
The man’s older than me. I’m guessing late twenties, so around my brother Gor’s age. He’s got light brown hair beginning to grow out from a buzz-cut, a sharp jaw, a nose that looks like it’d been broken not too long ago, and eyes that seem to take in every inch of me all at once plus the whole room too. His clothes are simple, a plain gray shirt tucked into dark slacks, the sleeves rolled above his elbows to show off his muscular and veiny forearms. He’s fit and athletic, but rangy in a way that surprises me, like any ounce of fat and softness he once carried got burned away in some vicious fire.
“My name’s Brenden. I came up here to see if there was anything worth stealing.”
His answer knocks me sideways a second time. My jaw opens to snap out a sharp reply, to yell at him for not saying something right away when he saw me opening my shirt, but instead I’m too caught off guard to be angry. He’s not moving and I’m trying to decide if I should scream or throw something at him, but instead can’t help making another bad decision.