Relentless: A Bad Boy Romance (Bertoli Crime Family #1) by Lauren Landish Read Free Book Online Page A

used the same bench—someone had once told me it was called a glute ham raise—to work my lower back and butt, but Daniel took it to the next level. Putting the pad closer to his knees than I did, he started with his head hanging down nearly all the way to the floor before he lifted himself in an arc, curling his knees at the top so that he ended up nearly vertical, then lowered himself at an agonizing slowness before repeating it again.
    “You're working your butt and hamstrings today, aren't you?”
    Daniel grunted his assent as he reached the top of his movement and nodded his head. “And quads. Leg strength is vital to running and fighting.”
    Of course. If it wasn't enough that he was built like a god, he was interested only in his ability to use his body in his duties, and maybe secondarily in his ability to seduce women. He wasn't trying to look the way he did. He just wanted to be more lethal in his work. That he was making me hotter than I'd been in years was beside the point.
    I messed around with some of the equipment while he focused on his work, not really working all that hard but just getting a decent little workout while my eyes got to take in the display of human physical perfection in front of me. By the end of his last set, his shirt was soaked and his blond hair was a shade darker from sweat that ran down his skin in diamond rivulets, and I could feel that my panties were soaked, but not from sweat.
    “I'm going to get changed,” I said, getting up shakily from the leg extension machine I'd been on and wiping my forehead. “Do you think you can pick me up tomorrow at about eleven to go to Angela's grave?”
    “That's fine,” Daniel replied, wiping his own forehead. “I asked your mother, and she told me I could stay in a guest room tonight anyway. If you need me for anything, I’ll be close by.”
    “Okay. Thanks. See you later, Daniel.”
    “Buona sera, Adriana.”
    I laughed and turned at the door, giving him a grin. “Twenty-five years in this house, and your Italian still absolutely sucks. You sound like you're hacking at the syllables with a machete.”
    He grinned back and ran his hand through his hair. “It's what you get when your tutors are a bunch of third-generation guidos. Besides, I'm much, much better with my French technique, if you ever want to find out.”
    I laughed and left the gym, forcing myself down the hallway because there was nothing more my body wanted to do than to turn around and find out exactly how good he was. I hoped that my desire would ease with distance, but instead, I was still overheated when I got back to my old room and fell into the soft mattress, groaning in frustration. “Fuck it. Time for a cold shower.”

    * * *
    T he next morning , precisely at eleven, I found Daniel waiting for me in the foyer, dressed not in the casual clothes he'd worn the last week for me, but instead in a black, somber suit, looking for all the world like a Secret Service agent. I’d also dressed for the trip, wearing a black dress that I'd always kept ready, knowing the sort of lifestyle my family had. Mob daughters have to go to funerals too often, in my opinion.
    “Ready?” Daniel asked, standing up and buttoning his coat. I looked and was touched that next to him were a dozen roses in a basket, mixed white and red, ready for me. “I asked the gardening staff to pick out the best.”
    “Thank you,” I said, my throat tight with emotion. He might have most of the time alternated in his personality between that of the Terminator or a cocky Lothario, but I too often forgot that he actually did have a tender, observant side to him. “They're beautiful, and I know Angela would have liked them. Come on. I'd like to save my tears for the graveside, if you don't mind.”
    Daniel drove me in his BMW, back in his silent mode but slightly more comforting than he'd been earlier in the week. When we got out, the bright sunlight dazzled me, and he silently offered me a pair of