Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5)

by Elena M. Reyes

  “No. None of this is amusing to me.” At my response, his eyes fully open and focus on me. His blue eyes widen, and his mouth drops open while consecutive bouts of shivers begin. “Who are you?”

  “The bloody boogie man.” Lifting my hand, I tap the small table and he flinches. He’s a small bloke. No real muscle. No balls. “And I’m here to either kill you or watch you become my bitch.”

  “I haven’t done anything. Please—”

  “Speak when spoken to and we’ll get along...” he exhales before I’m done “...for now.” Immediately, he scrambles back, falling off the arm of the chair. Not that he gets far as Kray steps into his line of sight. “If it’s money you want, my father has more than enough to pay you twice over even if the ass refuses to pay his debts.” The last parts were mumbled, but I hear him loud and clear. Rigo owes money, but I wonder how many times this git has been threatened because of him. “Call him and demand a high amount. Just don’t kill me.”

  “Who is Aliana Rubens to you, Mr. Martin?” At her name, he becomes paler. Sweat begins to bead on his forehead, his chest rising and falling rapidly. His mouth opens and closes, but no words come out. “Speak up, Giannis. I asked you a question.”

  Martin swallows hard, his shaking a little worse now. “You’re a Gaspar?” My eyes meet Kray’s for a second; he immediately pulls out his mobile and steps outside. The man on the floor lets out a whimper, and I look at him again. His fear is heady, but more than that, he’s confused. “Dad has an agreement with your boss. And I only moved here because it’s a nice neigh—”

  “No. I’m not.”

  His low shit almost makes me smile. Almost. “W-who are you?”

  “Callum Jameson.”

  “Oh fuck.”

  “Answer my earlier question, you arse.” Leaning forward, I let my hands hang between my legs. “How do you know Aliana Rubens?”

  “Our fathers.” Giannis is shaking, a small pool of wetness now on the front of his joggers. Disgusting. “We grew up together. Our families have run in the same social circles since we were in middle school.”

  “And?”

  “A-And they always expected us to be close.”

  Fucking choir boy is testing my patience with his stuttering. Before he can scream, I grab my gun and dislodge two bullets to the right of his head. They break through the drywall and wood beneath, leaving circular openings where a bit of sunlight filters through. “This is your last warning. The full story, or the next time I fire it will be aimed at your knee. Understood?”

  “Yes.”

  I place the gun down. “Carry on.”

  Giannis licks his dry lips, swallowing hard while trying to control the uncontrollable twitching of his body. “Before I start, I’m begging you not to hurt her. She’s been pulled in every direction all her life and doesn’t deserve to end up in the middle of the crap her family pulls.”

  “Agreed.”

  “You do?” The cracking of his voice is amusing, yet I don’t answer. Instead, I wave a hand for him to continue. I’ll be heading back to London soon, but before I step foot on the plane, protection for her needs to be in place. “Because men like you don’t—”

  “Be very careful how you finish that sentence.”

  “I mean no disrespect, Mr. Jameson,” he says, eyeing the gun without blinking. “Please know that, but with the type of men who seem to follow us or show up randomly at our fathers offices, we can’t trust anyone. It’s an expectation that scares the fuck out of me.”

  “The men?”

  “The Gaspar family.”

  Again, that family. Two different people that mention them.

  Twice that I’m made aware of how little respect they have for our territory if they’re harassing people here.

  “This is the last time I’ll ask you this, kid. I want the full story.” Giannis takes in a deep breath and then lets it out slowly. He looks to be giving himself a mental pep talk, one that is taking too long. “The clock is ticking.”

  “We met in school after our fathers became close. Dinners, fundraisers, even the occasional BBQ while they talked politics and money with the donors at these functions. And because we were stuck there, we hung out. Nothing more. Our parents saw that, though, and a passing hello became a forced conversation or you two don’t move from here while they socialized. It just became our thing.”

  “Keep going.” My hand closest to the gun twitches, and he shrinks back. His fear overwhelms the room in a way that soothes the need within me to spill his blood. “And get to the point. My patience only lasts but so long.”

  “They wanted us together at first.” At first? “Her father wants my father’s connections while my father wanted an insider to push his employer’s agenda, and through marriage they’d forge the bond. No one asked if we so much as tolerated each other; we were not given a choice.”

  That word again: choice. What else have they taken from you, beautiful?

  “Why at first?”

  “Because I don’t see her that way, and our fathers made a very costly mistake.”

  “What way? What bloody mistake?”

  “The latter is more important than how I see her.” He stands to retake his seat, watching me as he does and then leans back. He looks knackered, nothing like the cocky arse inside the lounge a few days ago. “Because this involves money my father owes the Gaspar family while Mr. Rubens incarcerated their old boss. The Gaspars want blood and retribution, and right now, I’m here to watch out for her. She may think I’m an asshole, but I stay close to try and dissuade them as much as I can. My father still has hope that she’ll be the one.”

  Then it clicks.

  “You made the fake corporation to buy this place?” He nods in answer, head down and not meeting my eyes. “On your own?” Another barely visible nod. “Why the fuck would you cross a man like Malcolm Asher? Did you really believe no one would notice?”

  “Because I fear for her safety more than mine.” Those words immediately calm the raging ire flowing through my veins. I’m looking at him differently, putting together puzzle pieces that will ultimately rain blood down on the streets of this city. “And without many choices, I picked one of two names they will not cross. It’s all I could do to help.”

  “Asher and who else?” I ask when he doesn’t divulge, and only when another bullet dislodges, this time near his sock-clad feet, does he look up. A horror-filled expression overtakes his features, yet there’s a hint of determination in his eyes that I admire. Most men wouldn’t meet my stare head on unless it’s for someone they care about. “Why are you so protective?”

  “Asher and the Jamesons. They want no problems with you.” Tears brim in his eyes then, and he gives me a forced smile. “I’m a shithead most of the time and can be very self-absorbed, but I don’t want her hurt. And while I don’t see her in a romantic light—I just can’t—I’m begging you not to hurt her.”

  “You have my word that I won’t.”

  He lets out a ragged breath. “Thank you, Mr. Jameson.”

  “What are you not telling me?”

  That makes him pause, a small bit of blush staining his cheeks. “The reason I’m not attracted to Aliana is because I’m in love with someone else. I see her more like a cousin or annoying sibling when she’s being hardheaded, but nothing romantic.” At my raised brow, he lets out a small chuckle, but it’s done out of nervousness. “I have a boyfriend, sir. I’m in love with my soulmate.”

  And just like that, he’s been born again.

  I won’t kill him if he’s telling the truth.

  At least not today. He can be of use. He’s going to become my eyes and ears on the inside.

  “Meeting the day after tomorrow,” Casper says the moment I answer my mobile after exiting the townhome where Giannis has been hiding. It’s a little late, just after six in the evening, and my girl is finally home from work. I left him to get himself sorted; he’s to expect my call within the next twenty-four hours to come clean to Al
iana. Because what he said, and my own conclusions have left a bitter taste in my mouth; my little Venus being anything but happy doesn’t sit well with me. Fucking infuriates me, and I’ve accepted the fact that I’ll kill to protect her. May the universe have mercy on anyone who makes her so much as frown. “We have a lead.”

  “Time and place.” My plan has always been to catch a very late flight out. I’m not leaving without a taste of her natural sweetness.

  “Early afternoon and my home.”

  “I’ll be back in London by—”

  “You’re still in Chicago?” His surprised tone any other day would’ve had me giving him shit, but I’m not in the mood. Right now, he’s not my boss or cousin and being polite isn’t on my list of priorities.

  For the most part, we never go completely off the grid, the locators on our mobiles always stay active, but this once, I didn’t follow protocol. I want no one near her until things are settled between us.

  “Yes.”

  “In Lincoln or a few states down south, Callum?” Tosser.

  “That doesn’t concern you, mate.” His response to my dry retort is a snort. Bastard knows exactly where I am now. “Are you heading home tonight or tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “Fancy catching a flight home together? I feel like we have a conversation pending.”

  “We do,” Casper says. For a beat, the silence stretches between us. Changes are coming and it’s inevitable, and while I’m not angry at him for wanting what he does, no more waiting. My own immediate plans have changed, and I have Aliana to account for in the equation now. “The plane will be ready to take off a little after midnight.”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Be safe.”

  “But not too much,” I finish for him before hanging up, pocketing my mobile and then pressing her doorbell. There’s a bit of movement from inside, what sounds like something falling before a rush of feet stops on the other side of this door.

  And fuck me if I don’t feel those warm eyes watching me through the peephole.

  There’s just something about her. This connection doesn’t break or wilt, and the more I’m blessed by her presence, the more I crave it. Want to devour and then cuddle, taking her with me everywhere I go.

  Things need to get settled first. A reminder that sits like acid on my tongue.

  I owe it to my family to avenge my aunt’s death. I can’t bring her into the middle of a blood-filled hurricane, my world, until I guarantee our enemies are dead.

  My wife will fear no one. “Fuck me,” I mumble, surprised by that last train of thought, but I’m not opposed to it. No fear. No questions. No second thoughts. “My beautiful little Venus.”

  Cock hard, I reach down and adjust it, but not quick enough as my grip tightens to just shy of pain. I hear her. This beautiful little hiccupping breath through the camera’s speaker, and I was wrong; she’s watching me through the Ring app like a naughty girl. I’m also sure Aliana has no idea she’s pressed the talk button on her screen.

  “Open the door, Miss Rubens.” Another sound. This one a low, an almost indiscernible sigh, and I groan. No shame. I want her to hear me. Know that I hunger for every single inch of her. “I’m here to claim the morning kiss I didn’t get this morning.”

  “Kiss?” The tiny whimper makes me bite my lip. “Who said I owe you a kiss?”

  “I do.”

  “That’s very demanding of you even if I’m not opposed to it.”

  “Not going to deny that I can be a dictating bastard, Venus. Now open up.” The lock disengages, but Aliana doesn’t open the door. Instead, I hear the shuffle of her feet walking away through the speaker of her alarm. “So be it.”

  I have her door open and locked within a few seconds, my heavy footfalls following the path to her bedroom. I’m not going to waste my time searching for her; she’s either there or will come to me.

  The half-open door lets me see inside the dark room. And there is the object of my obsession; Aliana is on her bed atop the strewn covers with an arm thrown over her eyes. Her chest rises and falls rapidly, each sinuous curve highlighted by the last streams of daylight coming between the window drapes where one small bit where it’s parted, and I’m bloody thankful for that ray.

  My mouth waters, eyes devouring the glimpse of skin beneath the threadbare light pink lounge set she’s wearing. Just a tank top and shorts, nothing over the top, yet minuscule and tight. Christ, she’s beautiful. Looks so warm and comfortable.

  “Are you going to take that kiss now?” Aliana says without looking at me, tone breathy. She wants it just as much. A heady realization that makes my cock swell to the point of pain.

  “I will.” Not saying anything else, I slip through the opening and then close the door, leaning against to simply watch. For a minute or two, silence turns into heavy breathing while her lithe body squirms under my gaze. Her nipples pebble. Her thighs press together. “Just let me enjoy you like this a little more.”

  A shiver runs through her at my words, and a stuttering breath gets caught in her chest. “Okay.”

  “Good girl.” In the dark with limited lighting, I take her in. My eyes have adjusted, loving the softness—how natural her position is without a single ounce of tension in it. From her small toes with a light purple coloring on them to the lush curve of her hip, I memorize each dip. From her tiny waist to the ample swell of her chest, I take count of each area I plan to kiss before heading back to London.

  Pushing off the wall, I walk across the room and pause at her bed with a knee atop the mattress. It dips under my weight, the movement causing her to tense. She’s not afraid. This, that reaction, is all anticipation.

  A want that mirrors mine. My girl.

  My plan was to get on the plane tomorrow with her juices still drying on my lips, but I’m not going to turn this gift away. Now, she’ll be my dinner and then breakfast with the potential to become a snack at any given moment until I walk out of her home.

  “Callum, I’m—”

  “Can I touch you?” I’m not a man that asks for permission in any other area of my life, but I want hers. Crave it.

  “Fuck,” she mutters under her breath, but I hear. I also don’t miss the way her tiny hand reaches out for me, and I want her to grab me. To pull me closer. “Please.”

  “Please what, gorgeous. Tell me.”

  Fingers wrap around mine, skin so soft, and she gives a tiny tug while meeting my hungry gaze. “Lay with me.”

  Without a word, I do as she asks and crawl in beside her. On my side, my face next to hers, I close my eyes and inhale deeply. Motherfuck, she smells bloody good: sweet and all woman with just a faint hint of peaches that lingers all around her.

  “Are you tired, sweetheart,” I say, skimming a finger of my free hand from her elbow to shoulder. She shivers, moves a little closer, and I bite back a grin. Instead, I focus on the feel of her near while I continue my exploration. I’m keeping my touch innocent; I hunger for her consent.

  She’s not a woman to throw herself at a man or a one-time deal for me. No.

  I want her again and again and again. The ferocity in which I crave this small woman is near painful, and only the taste of her on my tongue will satiate the beast within that demands I make her mine.

  Because this is what being in her mere presence brings forth. A yearning.

  She’s driving me fucking insane.

  Her head turns in my direction, a bashful grin stretched across her lips. There’s also a slight blush at the apple of her cheeks that I find delicious. “Not at all.”

  “You sure? You seem ready for an after-work nap.”

  “My shower was relaxing.” Slim fingers twitch, her grip tightening. “I feel peaceful.”

  “That’s good.” Motherfuck, a throaty little mewl escapes when I skim my fingers across her collarbones. “But you still haven’t answered my question, love. Do you want my touch, or is this too soon for you?”

  13

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�I want it.”

  “That’s my good girl.” The fingers on her collarbone travel lower, just to the edge of her top, and slip beneath the soft fabric. Not low, but just under the trim while my eyes watch her every reaction. Those sweet brown eyes close for a brief second, her lips parting on a sigh while a lovely vibration runs through every limb. “Thank you for the honor.”

  “Christ, I love your accent,” she whines after a minute or two, not liking my standstill position on her skin. “It’s quickly becoming a weakness.”

  “Is it, now?” My lips are at her temple, leaving tiny open-mouthed kisses on my way to her neck, inhaling deep to brand my lungs with her scent. I pause at her ear, though, nipping the sensitive flesh there, and enjoy the sight of goose bumps rising—the way her body arches into my touch. “Even coming from a bastard who has no right to want something so pure.”

  “You’re not a bastard.”

  My rough exhale against her neck makes her whimper. “I’ve done things with these hands, Aliana.” With a painful slowness, I caress the swell of her right breast and then the left. Once, twice—moving lower with each pass. “I’ve worn my enemies’ blood with pride, my Venus, and yet, nothing would give me more pleasure than a single taste of the sweetness between your thighs. The need is near maddening.”

  “I feel this...” she trails off, but there’s no fear in her eyes. No disgust. If anything, they become darker. Heavy-lidded. “Callum, this is—”

  “Did that make you change your mind?” I know she hasn’t. It’s there in the way she keeps her hold on my other hand tight. How she’s making sure there isn’t a single inch of space between her side and my body. “Do you want me to move?”

  “No,” she hisses out; the urgency in her tone would shock anyone else, but not me. Not when I understand it. Not when I feel it too—just as much if not more—and have accepted whatever consequences come from this.