Her Hollywood Hitman: A Dark Romantic Suspense Read Online Free

went to make sure that he kept his place as one of the top producers in the world. To invest all the money he did, he had to have a lot of people on his payroll. And that didn’t come without making enemies. Red was Dad’s protection against… whatever my dad was involved in.

    And it was best not to really think about that. After all, Art Sanchez was my only family.  

    I combed out the thick curls that fell around my face and pulled a dress out from the closet, feeling the fine silken fabric between my fingers. It was a designer piece my dad had made for me, perfectly fitted to my body, in jewel green fabric that complemented my complexion. I pulled it on and shook myself into it, letting it hug my curves just as it was made to do. I glanced in the mirror.  

    Tonight you look just like her . The pain shot through me like a wave. There was something revolting about my father giving me dresses that made me look like my mother. But that’s the type of man he was—domineering, opportunistic, greedy. I was his plaything, a doll he could dress up and show off.  

    Sometimes I caught a glimmer of my father in my facial structure. Tonight, I was a vision of my mother. The actress who cracked and retreated. Her lifeless body found beside the ocean, bloody and beaten to death in her pretty green dress.  

    I smoothed out the green fabric, brushing my fingers over the cleavage that the dress gave me. I had a fleeting thought of Red and pushed it away. It didn’t matter how he thought I looked. I didn’t want that kind of attention anyway, not from a man like that.

    He wasn’t a good man. His eyes showed me a dark depth I didn’t quite understand.  

    It was best not to try.  

    Wasn’t it?  

Red  

    I pulled up in the Aston, idly wondering if cars would impress a girl like Gabriella. Probably not. She was at some good school, couldn’t remember which, and she was supposedly studying medicine. Plus, her father had more money than anyone in Hollywood. I noted the modest silver Audi parked by the walkway. No Astons for this girl.  

    I looked at my watch and back out at the immaculately landscaped property that Art Sanchez called home. Supposedly, he had started out like me. Penniless, immigrating to this black-hearted city from Boston. Except he’d had the idea to work in movies, and all I’d ever done was kick the shit out of people. That was the difference between him and me. As much money as I might have, I didn’t have the finesse that men like Art had, or the mind for business. I had a pair of battered hands and a collection of guns that would impress a congressman from Alabama.  

    Art’s morbidly carved doors opened, and anxiety gripped at my chest. There was Gabriella. Gabi. And she was wearing that same shade of green that her mother had always favored. I lowered my sunglasses and looked at her, letting the car idle.  

    If Gabriella’s mother Rose had been beautiful and alluring, Gabriella was stunning. In the most literal way. The angles of her face were harder and less forgiving than her mother’s soft lines. But her body was the same bombshell shape, breasts high and firm… her hips and ass juicier and rounder than any of the stick-figure girls I was so used to here in town. My cock stiffened as I watched her walk to the car, and I shifted uncomfortably. It wasn’t going to be good for me to be close to this woman. She lit some primal fire that I hadn’t known in years. I was hyperaware of her body, shifting away from her as she opened her door and got in.  

    “Gee, thanks for the welcome,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Usually, I go to these whoring events by myself, and I thought it would be nice to have someone with me.” I arched an eyebrow. Apparently she was more perceptive than I thought she was. It occurred to me that it must be lonely to be Art’s daughter. To be paraded about like this and told what to do.  

    “No one else to go with you?” I asked,