Home / Romance / The mobster and the writer / Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

All Chapters of The mobster and the writer: Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

37 Chapters

1

My Valentine's date was called Acer. It was red. Beautiful.We met through my brother just on my birthday and since then we have not separated. He was the most incredible thing in this world, he loved everything I threw at him, which was quite a lot, and he didn't complain that he had to work hard because he was always by my side. He didn't bother if I wanted to spend the whole afternoon lying on the couch watching Gossip Girl with him. He didn't care about anything. It was almost perfect. Almost, because I always needed a cable or a battery. He was very dependent on them. Yeah, well, my Valentine's date was my laptop, and our plan was for me to make some progress on the romance novel that I had to deliver at the end of the month. The life of a romantic writer is not easy and in my case, it was not even romantic. My name is Samantha, if, as the protagonist of the Bewitched series, my mother was a big fan and hence my name. I walk my brother was somewhere in the c

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

What if they were the sex slave type? I started hyperventilating, imagining the life I was going to have to lead from now on, and without realizing it I started crying. He threw me on the couch and I fell bouncing sideways, causing Salem to come out and utter my tears. He liked salt. I thought maybe he was just going to rob me and now that he had seen it he would have to kill me. Who would expect someone to be in my house on Valentine's Day? If he killed me, who would take care of Salem? Rob? I started thinking about Rob my brother. Without me I would have no one to call every day in the afternoon, nor would I have a cook on weekendsBefore I could begin to beg for my life, my abductor shoved something into my mouth. Poison. My eyes widened and I began to shake until an unexpected taste began to flow through my mouth. Could be...? It was...? I had scooped ice cream into myself. I stared at him without understanding anything.- You are a very annoying cutie. I'm not goi

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

And the door to my apartment opened. Shit. I didn't even look up, lest I think it was an act of rebellion or something like that. I did not want to be tortured, I liked all my fingers and my skin was marked very easily. I didn't want souvenir bruises, thanks. Against all my principles, I stood still with my head down. Submissive, so I trembled because the only sound that had warned me of his presence was that of his soldier boots that echoed in my ears like the detonation of a bomb. I braced myself for the worst, for a kick or a punch. Without realizing it, I began to cry silently, all the waiting was killing what few nerves I had left. Without even speaking, he was killing me. I heard another sound, cloth slipping, wrinkling. A hand touched my face and lifted my chin. - Hello - A deep and kind voice told me. His breath was soft and warm. Was nice. I opened my eyes almost out of inertia.- Oh - It was the only thing I could mutter before seeing myself caught my e

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

We finally came to a black SUV. I would swear I fell in love with that car then. It was the car of my dreams. As a child, I had wanted a car like that, which would make other drivers look at me in amazement and with respect. I imagined myself in there, smirking and wearing Hunter's glasses ... Okay, yes, Hunter's, which would be in the glove compartment and we would both share. My imagination has no limits. Hunter entered the back with me, not speaking to me and not allowing G to sit next to me. I thanked him silently in two thousand different ways. It hadn't crossed my mind that G wasn't aware of our positions, because when he saw us he narrowed his eyes and shook his head.- It's your car, Hunter. You should drive - He leaned against the door. What a mania this man had for leaning on the edges of doors!- I'm afraid of leaving Samantha by your side. You could gag her and tie her up like a sack of potatoes. I think he deserves a break from your company an

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

- I like it- He shrugged- I like different things- The last thing was directed at me and I will send it myself. Did he like it? Was I different? Was this man sane? G ignored him and sat on the couch, stretching out full length and yawning the way a bear would. It was a great distraction. Seeing him like that made me laugh. The tender vein came out at that moment. He looked tired and vulnerable. He was not as scary as before and he looked younger as if he had removed a giant mask. It was nice to see him as an ordinary human being, not as a mob killing machine (if he killed because I had only taken one bullet from him). Hunter was lost somewhere and I had work to do, so I sat down by an outlet on the floor and turned on my laptop. The story wasn't going to end on its own and I didn't feel like hearing my editor yelling at me like crazy for being late with the delivery. I was almost always late. My followers were more

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

Don't even take my things. Not my laptop. Nothing. I wanted to get out so badly that I didn't think I was leaving important things behind. I just knew I had to get away fast before Hunter caught me. Just as I opened the door, a wall came in, crashing into me and throwing me backward. I landed on my ass with a groan. That had hurt. I must have broken my sacrum. I leaned on my hands and got up like a small child. Who else would it be? The idiot was watching me from the door with a grimace much like a smirk on his face. I hated it. Every second that passed I swear I hated him a little more. His eyes seemed n sizzle with excitement insulting enough for me: Fun. I swear I was going to kill that kid. Sooner or later he was going to kill him sleeping.- Where are you going, cutie?- He raised an eyebrow style: There is no excuse that will be valid, but I want to see you say nonsense yes.-Far from you crazy killers. - I kicked in the crotch l style angels of Charl

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

Cami took me on a motorcycle. Motorcycle? Since when did girls like Cami ride motorcycles? Maybe before I didn't make it very clear what Cami was like. She was tall. Much taller than me. She had a very good figure, that is, she was good. Point. Next to him, I looked like the garbage you remove from your feet when you wear sandals in summer. He had an especially pretty and smiling face. Her blonde hair fell in soft waves that looked like they were made by a professional hairdresser. I wondered if he could fix my head nest. Shook my head. He was a hairdresser, not a sorcerer. His eyes were not quite blue but seemed to mix with a light gray. In front of me, I had a model girl. Those girls don't like motorcycles. Pink car hits them. Me and my precious prejudices. He handed me a helmet and I raised my eyebrows. A black helmet with patterned flames was what I leas

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

The loudest colored dresses used to yell at me from the hanger and when I say "yell at me", I mean yell. They warned me that I had to flee. That they were horrible. I glanced at one of the bodyguards who had remained just outside the door. I didn't think he was going to let me go just like that. As if sensing my gaze, he crossed his arms, making his pose a little more threatening. Maybe choosing one of those dresses was better. Together with Cami, I began to rummage. She dismissed them almost before I could tell her how ugly they were. She knew how to dress well. It was a Cindy. A Cindy? Yes, like the protagonist of my book. A Cindy is a girl 10 who has everything in this life and who is almost completely perfect. Cami was one of those girls. I was about to sigh in his face. Why couldn't I be a Cindy? Voucher. Maybe I'm not a Cindy, but I'm not too bad either. At least I can discern between shitty clothes and pretty clothes. It's something. I stopped Cami's hand when sh

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

We stopped in front of the theater. There were already people coming up the stairs. A chill ran down my spine. I couldn't wait to get in. It was my favorite musical of all time. I knew every song. At least my adventure was turning out to be beneficial in some way. He was almost bouncing with excitement in the car. Cami instead seemed bored, as if she normally goes to theaters. I do not.Why didn't he use to go to performances? Well, he had money. It wasn't like I couldn't afford it, just that I didn't feel like going alone. It seemed pathetic to show up there without any kind of companion. My friends were more clubbing and Rob fell asleep as soon as the lights went out. He had no one to go with. Sad, I know. Finally, after a long time, I was going to step into a theater again.They stopped right at the door and parked in a preferential spot. I think the mob has special treatment. The bodyguards came out first and each opened a door. Blonde, that is, Ryan opened mine an

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The mobster and the writer/sgm_23

Arms caught me around the waist and I found myself between the railing and G. Encantador's chest. I felt the warmth of his face against my cheek. His breath caressed my ear and I was about to shudder. I didn't like that he was invading my personal space. That was one of the few things he couldn't bear. I was flushed and felt like every cell in my skin wanted to jump on G. The red on my cheeks intensified. Not even makeup was going to save me this time.-I didn't know that inside you, apart from inhabiting a perverted writer, there was also a hidden singer. What else are you hiding from me, cutie? - In his voice, there was mockery and ... curiosity?I did not turn around. He was still just as close to me, and I wasn't going to make the mistake of turning around and staying an inch from his chest. No. I refused. The lamp lit up the entire room again, blinding me. G pulled away and I finally turned around. Ryan was in his seat asleep. Some saliva dripped from the corner o

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