10

" Leave my hand, you shithead!" Izzy shouted, clenching her jaw at the sore point. "Are you guys even listening to me?" The brown-eyed girl tried to break free from their firm grip on her dainty arms, which would surely leave marks.

Harry's bodyguards dragged her to his office, avoiding her furious growls. Now the lord of the mafia had especially craved to see his new doll and by that inkling of facing him, Izzy's blood ran cold as her lower lip quivered, controlling the urge to cry as she darted her frantic gaze at them. The males were beastly tall with bulky figures, and so big. Izzy looked like a kid in front of them and so vulnerable. Oh, how badly she wanted to swing her fist rock-hard on their faces.

Soon they reached Harry's office, the door shutting sound ripped across the walls as he was serenely sitting behind his cherry wood desk, loading his gun and unbothered by Izzy's growls and protests. The bodyguards pushed her hard toward Harry, the edge of the desk hitting her stomach. She bites her lips and quickly straightened up her posture, swallowing the ache. Poor Izzy couldn't do anything, she glared at them with a disgusting face.

Izzy's brownish eyes roamed the room, finding herself not alone. Was it helpful? perhaps, no. Many black-suit men were present, their faces were black and empty gazes were soldered on the floor, it creeped her out. Izzy also noticed that there was a girl in the corner and two men were clasping her arms in a brute grip, tears on her face as she seemed a trembling heap of bones and flesh. So helpless, Izzy felt pity for her.

Izzy wished to help the poor girl, comfort her, and tell her everything is okay and non of this happened, but how would she do that when she was already stuck in a messy situation?

At last, her gaze landed on that man who was peacefully playing with his gun, lustrous fingertips caressing the shape of the barrel. A whack in her heart as she gulped greedily, not because of the terror rushing in her vessels but of his refinement. Izzy sensed a weird tickle in the back of her throat and her heartbeat got tangled.

Izzy was not a girl who eyed every man. But, in Harry Johnson, there was something that she couldn't simply resist. His dark, deep eyes, strongly pull her into them, they hold a storm, an angry hurricane. Harry's sculptured was vacant, a cold scowl plastered between his brows, a glum line adorning his mouth, yet he appeared astonishingly breathtaking, and she could tell that he used to break the heart in his wake.

There was one thought in her head and that was Harry Johnson was attractive as hell.

Sensing the serious gaze on him, his curvy, bee-stung lips turned into a smirk. A smirk so mischievous and insanely sensual, with a little scar on his right cheek, however, it didn't affect his grace.

Izzy's heart bounced around her chest when Harry looked straight down her soul, His inky eyes idle lingered on her body, head-to-toe and again with that wolfish smirk on his lips. Harry could comprehend the curves and contours of her skittish figure through the robe, and the way she visibly shivering was amusing to watch, he would have a great time playing with her.