Emma Taylor is sick and tired of being considered a pushover! Sure, she left college still a virgin, but who the hell cares about that? Not her—she’s ready to take on the world and make something of herself! The one thing she didn’t expect was meeting Diablo, a top-level gangster who always gets what he wants…and now his eyes are set on her. The thing is, Diablo is the one who should be scared...
Age Rating: 18+ (Assault, Drug Use/Overdose, Kidnapping, Miscarriage, Rape, Violence Against Women)
Book One: Diablo & Emma
Diablo is in no mood for anyone’s shit. He slept like crap, but what else is new?
The redhead he leaves behind (he refuses to let anyone sleep with him or go home with him) in the early hours of the morning is absolutely shit in bed and he wants to get out of there as soon as possible.
He has important meetings today and he really needs to prepare and sleep. As usual, sleep evades him, and he ends up working until five before going to the gym situated in his building—for his convenience, of course.
At least there he finds some release for his tension.
Emma. Beautiful, ignorant Emma. Sleep will just not come.
She has an important job interview in the morning but her friend Carly has been out partying the entire night and brought the party back to their condo, making sleep absolutely impossible.
If Carly’s shenanigans result in my losing one more thing, there will be hell to pay. I am a 23-year-old woman who cannot decide whether to be elated or sad. Today is one of the best and worst days of my life.
This is a huge achievement for me. I have worked very hard for this and given up quite a lot in the process.
I am one of a handful of students who will be graduating today with a double major from NYU. An MBA combined with an MS in Accounting, and my parents will not be here to see it.
C’est la vie.
I dress in plain black trousers, a white button-up blouse, and my flat black shoes, with minimal makeup.
My long black hair cascades down my back with a curl here and there, almost reaching my ass.
Sometimes I feel like cutting it because styling it is such an irritation, but Carly, my best friend, keeps saying it is my best feature.
Carly and I met in college. She is my age and is barely graduating today. She absolutely loves to party and hates studying.
Her parents are super rich. God knows what they do, but whatever she asks for, she gets.
Whatever Carly does, she does with great gusto. Whether it is partying or picking the right outfits—boy oh boy, she nails it. Today is no different.
She is dressed in a sleek, very short black cocktail dress with extremely high heels. As always, all the men’s eyes will be on her once she takes off the graduation gown.
I sound like a very jealous friend, but I am truly not. I know I have charisma, or so I have been told—but Carly? She makes heads turn.
“Carly, we have to leave. We are going to be late for our own graduation, for goodness’ sake.”
She decided to call me a snobbish bitch when we first met but decided that it is too long to pronounce every time she spoke to me. Now it is just B.
Short for bitch. Said with love of course. Or so she tells me.
We grab our handbags, caps, and gowns and run to her black BMW M3.
“Punch it, Carly! We are going to be late!”
Carly does not need to be told twice. She always drives like a maniac and I usually scold her like a mother hen, but I do not want to miss anything today.
We are meeting our friends Rick, Cody, Mario, and Carly’s current fuck buddy Cashè at the ceremony. We decided long ago that it is best to have mostly guy friends.
What can I say? Women can be bitches sometimes. We are full of drama and backstabbing if something doesn’t go our way. Carly is sassy enough for ten women and her aura screams confidence.
I know coming from little prissy old me it sounds hypocritical but our little clique works like a well-oiled machine. If one of the guys meets someone, we are always polite while it lasts, but it never lasts long.
Let’s just say they are all players and both Carly and I have had to step in on more than one occasion as a fake “new” girlfriend in order to help the guys get rid of them. Fuck them and leave them—that’s their motto.
On the drive to the ceremony, Carly decides to touch up her makeup as usual, swerving left and right as she goes. Luckily, I am used to it by now.
The twenty-minute drive feels like it takes an hour, and she almost kills us twice before we finally arrive at the campus.
The ceremony is about to start and neither Carly nor I can find the guys, so we decide to take our seats and just meet up afterward.
We plan to meet up at our condo at 6 p.m. for drinks and snacks before going to a club to celebrate our graduation.
I hate parties, never mind clubs.
I can count the number of times I partied and went clubbing on one hand, juggling a double major and part-time work and all.
I know deep down that these are just excuses for me to stay at home and study.
I am so deep in thought that I almost miss my name being called.
“Emma Taylor, MBA and an MS in Accounting.”
I block out the remaining words the Chancellor is saying because I hate any form of attention on me.
I go up on stage, literally grab my degrees, and hurry off.
Carly being Carly makes sure all eyes are on her and flaunts her flawless beauty.
We meet at her BMW after the ceremony, shrieking in excitement that we finally graduated, get in her car, and head to the mall to go shopping for our dresses for tonight.
This is going to be a long-ass day. I loathe shopping more than I do clubbing