Current #WIP - #Teaser - The Life
So, hello, lovelies. I sincerely hope your holiday was wonderful.

Mine certainly was. Between my boys having an awesome Christmas and getting to spend time with both families, mixed in with the great food and treats that I ate way too much of, it was fantastic.

I also got a heck of a lot of writing done these last couple of days, which I am most thankful for. What I should have been writing was the second in the Clans of Fire series, but sometimes it's better to write what wants to be written rather than what you should be. So, I'm currently 16,000 words into the sequel to The Arrangement.

Intitled The Life, it's about what it sounds. The life inside this mafia world I've been writing for these two characters. Moving forward beyond their marriage, and what comes after. There's still guns and blood, of course there is. :)

Also, I honestly believe there has got to be something morally wrong with writing this kind of stuff of Christmas, but I don't care. Here's a small piece of Anton...being Anton. Someone hurt his wife, and he doesn't take lightly to that.

The Life - Teaser:


“I’d say you know who I am, then,” he said, smirking.

“Let—”

“Scream, I dare you. I’ll have someone outside of your place of work at the end of your shift, or maybe I’ll wait to have them catch you tomorrow morning on your trek to the university. Hell, how do you know I don’t already have a man standing outside your father’s apartment waiting for my call? I very well could,” he finished calmly, shrugging one shoulder indifferently.

“You wouldn’t,” Vanessa spat.

Anton cocked a brow, challenging the girl. “You don’t know for sure, though, do you? The only thing you really know about me, or my wife, is what you’ve been told. Don’t let me sully your opinion of us or anything, because most of what you’ve heard about me is likely true. Viviana, however, is a completely different matter.”

More than once, Anton had been told when he leveled on someone, he did so with a predator’s graceful composure. Swathed in calm and unbothered by any and all of the activity around him, when the boss moved in, he went straight for the kill and didn’t give a second glance back. Striking with a gaze that could burn in a single look, and terrorizing with a voice that rolled and coated like sweetened molasses, he was frightening.

Anton preferred dangerous.

The girl didn’t seem to know what to say, so Anton continued with his same cool, quiet tenor. “If you had considered to think for a moment about the things you said to my wife, you would have known it was a stupid choice and you wouldn’t have done it. I’m not just affiliated with the Russian Mafia in New York, Vanessa, I fucking am it. You’d disappear, sweetheart—just like that. Poof, gone. Did you realize that when you told Viviana her hands were just as filthy as mine? Did you consider I could have blew your brains out and still made it home to wake my wife the next morning with a smile on my face when you called my unborn son a criminal’s bastard?”

“I—”

“Shut the fuck up,” Anton hissed, his grip on her wrist squeezing tighter. “You had your chance to speak, and now I’m going to have mine.”

The girl swallowed nervously, her gaze flickering somewhere behind him. With a simple tug on her arm, Anton had her attention back on him.

“What, did she run home and cry to the criminal who shares her bed that some nasty girl made her cry?” Vanessa asked, sounding weaker with every word.

Anton sneered. “Oh, no. My wife has a hell of a lot more intelligence than that. In fact, she told me very little about your encounter. What I learned, I heard from your friend George. Nice guy, but trust he knows which is a safer side for him to be on, Vanessa. That was probably a better outcome for you, considering if I had heard it from my wife’s pretty mouth, I would have shoved my gun so far down your throat that when I pulled the trigger, you’d have felt the bullet rip through your esophagus before it killed you.” 
 
--Kris


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