Filthy Rich (The Five Points' Mob Collection, #2)

by Serena Akeroyd

She was addictive, and she’d just reeled me in. Hook. Line. And sinker.

I was finding, quite surprisingly, that I was as possessive of him as he was of me.

“Are you okay? You’ve been in there a while?” I’d never understood the logic behind that. People spent a while in the bathroom. Wasn’t it rude to ask if you were, essentially, taking a crap?

fantastic point

“I’ll always keep you safe.” “I know you will,” she replied calmly,

The heat that arced between us when our gazes collided once more scorched me, razed me down to the fucking ground until I wasn’t a Five Pointer, wasn’t a veteran of too many battles to count, wasn’t a Catholic, wasn’t a sniper, wasn’t anything other than one thing—a man. My heart pounded. Her man.

She was a fucking queen. My fucking queen.