Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5)

by Elena M. Reyes

  I take on the more dangerous side, so I take the heavier cut.

  But more important than money, everything is done above board and legal.

  No hiding. No small-time sales. No random searches.

  I want it all.

  I’m going to supply armies before they go to war. I’m going to play devil’s advocate.

  I’ll design and he builds each piece; the new production location is being kept under wraps from the public and on a small private island off the coast of Spain.

  “Are you shitting me?” That’s the first thing Casper says after putting his copy down. He’s sitting back, relaxed, but I see the interest. “That’s quite an ambitious goal.”

  “Aye.” I mimic his relaxed posture, bringing the cup to my lips for a sip. “But doable and very profitable while everything else stays the same. The drugs and hot electronics will continue to run through the UK via containers and into the Port of Miami, the latter of which will still be heading to Central and South America—our agreement with Thiago stands. The clientele he brings to the table is very valuable.”

  “And you’ve already contacted a British general?”

  “I have. They’re interested in what I have to offer after sending an email with the schematics and video demonstration.”

  “All in favor,” Casper calls out, not that it matters as this is a done deal, but it’s to prove a point.

  All three Jamesons look at me with pride. “Aye.”

  I nod and then look over at Archie. “Please bring in the suitcase.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “We are very happy to do business with you, Callum. We’ve brought you a gift to celebrate.”

  At Mauro’s words, my eyes snap to his and I tilt my head. “I do enjoy gifts.”

  He laughs, and the others in the room follow suit. His wife, though, lifts up a large purse from beside her and pulls out a box. Nothing too big, but the wrapping is cheeky with a Happy Birthday theme. Mauro holds it out to me. “We, my family and I, hope you enjoy this.”

  “Thank you.” Taking the box, I undo the wrapping and open the top. What lays inside, nestled within a soft piece of fabric, is a thing of beauty. The two guns inside are all black, heavy but when picked up and examined, the detail is on the powder coat finish. Desert Eagles with tiger stripes, the two tones of black—shiny and matte—working together flawlessly. “This is beautiful. How did you know?”

  “That you like big cats?”

  “Yes.”

  “You mentioned feeding a tiger the first time we talked, and I ran with the idea.”

  “I’m touched.” Picking up one in each hand, I test their weight and grip. “Very sleek and comfortable. This is a fine piece.”

  “Aye,” Casper agrees and holds his palm out. “I’m almost jealous.”

  “Wanker.” Handing over one, I let my father and uncle check out the other. Archie walks in then with my own gift. He places the case in front of Mauro. “That’s the agreed amount, and an extra ten percent to enjoy a weekend on us at the hotel I’ve booked in Monte Carlo.”

  “Thank you, Callum.”

  “Here’s to a lucrative business venture, partner.”

  29

  “You’re late,” my father greets, the second I step foot inside his office. That seems to be the way he breaks the ice each time we see each other, and yet, it’s his instructions I’ve been following. After coming home from Brazil, leaving Callum, he refused to see me until now. Just in case you’re being followed, he claimed over the phone while demanding I send him pictures of the statue beside a newspaper showing the current date.

  That’s how he’s kept me for three weeks.

  On edge. Always wondering.

  And I’ve never been more thankful for the protection Callum put on me. For the man who comes to Chicago once a week to spend the day, to spoil me, while helping me sort through my priorities. So far, we have a few plans in place. My conversation with Aurora is coming soon, and he knows this one will be tough for me.

  She’s my best friend. My constant for so many years.

  I’ll be patient, but I’m not waiting six months, Aliana.

  Kray and Giannis seem to always be around, but the one who’s made the difference for me is Lindsey. We bumped into each other at my favorite breakfast spot before work, both picking up an order of coffee and an egg, bacon, and avocado sandwich.

  “You know, a dash of hot sauce on that gives it a better kick than black pepper,” I said, not realizing who she was. We were by the pickup counter, side by side, when she turned her head and gave me a bright smile. “You?”

  “Me.” Her shoulders shook a bit from giggling. “Hi, I’m the extra Mr. Jameson requested.”

  “You’re a personal guard?”

  “Among other things, and for the right person, yes.”

  My brows furrowed, not liking the implication. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Just that you’re important to Giannis, and he means everything to my cousin. Then, we have my personal headache that’s your main security, Kray, and then his boss. That’s three people watching out for you, and with good reason, I hear.”

  “I’m not useless.”

  “Not at all. I heard through the grapevine you have a decent shot, just needs some fine tuning.” Lindsey placed her hand on my shoulder, giving it a light squeeze. “Just to stay limber, of course.”

  The thought of going to a range and shooting made me grin, but then it dropped. Callum took my Glock after each lesson and didn’t hand it over before we left. “I don’t have my—”

  “That’s because I have it. Mr. Jameson had a last-minute adjustment made to it.”

  “You’re serious?”

  “As a heart attack.”

  “That would be amazing. I didn’t think I’d enjoy it as much, but once I broke through the mental fog, it all clicked.” Unwrapping my sandwich, I grabbed the homemade chili pepper sauce and put on more than I should. And while I didn’t usually eat super spicy, this one was like crack for me. “That, and I like knowing I can protect myself. Precautions never hurt.”

  “Agreed.” Lindsey wiggled her fingers and I handed over the bottle, smirking when she poured more than me. “What about today after work? I know a place that’s open late.”

  “Sounds good.”

  “Good. Then let’s go.”

  I arched a brow. “Go where?”

  “To the Conte House, silly. I’m the new self-defense class instructor.” At my perplexed look, she shrugged. “The old instructor was paid handsomely to take a sabbatical so I could step in. I ‘work’ for the same company.”

  “Well, shit.”

  “Exactly. So let’s go.” Packing her items back inside a brown bag, she nodded at my sandwich. “Can’t be late on my first day.”

  “How have you been, daughter? Had a good vacation?” Dad’s voice snaps me back from the memory, and it’s hard, but I hold in my glare, focusing just past his head so he doesn’t see the hatred that brews within me. Because I do; I hate him. “Did you take any pictures? The place I booked was…”

  My attention isn’t on his words. Instead, I take in the dark room with the moon glinting through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The sole source of light is coming from a desk lamp near a turned-off computer and his cigar.

  There’s a small sitting area behind me and to the left, while the wall right across has built-in shelves filled to the brim with books he’s never probably heard of. A bar with the kind of alcohol he drinks is there, too, the glasses cleaned three times a day by his personal assistant.

  “…are you listening to me?” His terse tone pulls my attention to him, and I meet his eyes for the first time since stepping inside the room. He looks tired and stressed, hair mussed, and tie undone while sweat dots his forehead. “I asked you a question.”

  “Repeat, please.”

  “I said, did you run into any problems?” Exasperated, he levels me with a glare. “Giannis wasn’t very forthcoming
on your time in Brazil.”

  “Does it matter?”

  At my counter, my father slams a hand atop his desk. “Cut the fucking attitude, kid. When I ask a question, I expect an answer. Keep testing me. You know the consequences better than anyone.”

  “That’s not necessary.” Another voice, male, fills the room, and my head snaps to the dark corner of the sitting area. With little to no lighting, it’s hard to make out the tall form sitting there, but the light at the end of a cigar is bright red. “She’s done her part. Surpassed my expectations, to be honest.”

  Uneasiness settles over me. My stomach drops, and I can’t stop the shaking of my hands.

  “Mr. Gaspar, with all due respect, how I discipline—”

  “She’s not yours anymore.” His words are spoken low, with ease, but the heavy implications fill me with dread and all I want to do is run out. Kray is in the building along with Lindsey, waiting for me in the main lobby, with the excuse that we’re heading to dinner right after. At once, I put my hand inside my pants pocket, and find the number 3 on the old prepaid phone Lindsey insists I carry with me now. “Isn’t she?”

  Because it’s easier to find a number in button form than on a screen from inside a purse or pocket. And now, I see how right she is. I press and after fifteen seconds, hang up, and then again, following the same pattern.

  “No. I guess not, my apologies.” Dad’s expression is cold, unaffected. He’s speaking about me as if I were an item and not his child. “But for today, I need her cooperation in the exchange. That statue has a buyer, and we made an agreement to split the profit to appease Rigo’s debt.”

  “I don’t care about the profit and consider the debt canceled. She’s already proved her worth.” The man moves in his seat and a second later, another lamp is turned on. It illuminates him, bathing him in a soft yellow glow, which presents just enough of his profile for me to make out his features. He seems very familiar to me. Where have I seen him? “My plans are larger than the bullshit statue she’s been carrying around for you. This was just a preview of what she’s capable of, and my wife did more than satisfy my curiosity.”

  “Wife?” I ask, swallowing back the bile rising. This—he can’t be serious.

  No. No. No. No!

  “Yes, princess. We’re betrothed.”

  My reaction to that is instantaneous; I take the artifact out of my bag and slam it atop my father’s desk, glaring at him. If the damned thing cracked, I have no clue nor do I care, but my ire is mounting and for the first time, I understand how Callum can kill without remorse.

  And while I don’t consider myself to be a violent person and choose to pacify and de-escalate always, right now that’s all out the window when all I can taste is the bitter edge of betrayal. This is a hard pill to swallow, and had I brought my Glock, I would’ve shot my father.

  Of that I have no doubt. Right between the eyes.

  “I will not marry him.”

  “You don’t have a choice!” Dad thunders. The tumbler with a few fingers’ worth of amber liquid flies past my head. It shatters upon impact, the picture frame it hit breaking too. “This isn’t up for negotiation, Aliana. You will marry Mr. Gaspar or else—”

  “I’m already seeing someone.”

  “Who?” the man asks, voice ice cold.

  Before I can respond, the door is opened, and Kray walks inside. He doesn’t give either of them any attention, his sole focus on me, gun drawn. “You ready to go, Miss Rubens?”

  “Who the fuck are you?” comes from the governor. That man is no longer my father.

  Kray’s eyes turn hard; he’s now looking at my father. “Callum Jameson sends his regards.”

  That’s it. That’s all he says before ushering me out while I avoid the two heated gazes on me.

  They remain quiet. My guard’s words still hang heavy in the air.

  Callum staked his claim.

  “Tell me again why I’m going with you to look at bridesmaid dresses?” I ask London while her cousin snickers beside me. We’ve been to three stores today, and we haven’t stopped for food. They literally drag me from bed, stuff me in clothes, and make me try on dresses while my best friend’s newly found cousin picks one.

  Mind you, I’m not in the wedding. I’ll be a guest, not because she didn’t ask me to be, but because they decided to keep the numbers very small; Mariah and Aurora for London, while Javier and Casper, even though my best friend doesn’t know this tiny detail.

  Not like she’s shared info on him either.

  “Because it’s easier to be objective on someone else’s body.” London walks around me, studying the red dress I’m in. It’s an empire waist with an off-the-shoulder neckline that ends just below the knee. Very form fitting and classy, but also plain. “I feel like we’re getting close, but no dice yet. Can you try the eggplant one next, please?”

  My stomach is eating itself; I’m annoyed with her, but she’s too sweet to get mad at. Grumbling, I take off toward the changing room while they discuss something between them.

  Reaching for the zipper on my right, I lower it and slip off the garment. The hanger is next, and I place everything neatly for the salesgirl when my phone rings with his tone. I’m quick to pick it up before they hear or ask, moving further back into the changing area.

  This area is private; a large space where you normally have someone helping you change into their gowns, but with London’s selection being less extravagant, I’ve been given free reign. Which works, because he’s Facetiming me.

  “Hello, love,” he says the moment I answer, that grin I love in place. Callum looks a bit tired, and I know it has to do with the new business venture the Jamesons are taking on. The last few weeks have been busy for him with extensive travel from London to Spain to Chicago, the latter for me. “Having fun?”

  “No,” I pout, angling the camera so he can see how little I have on. I’m in a nude, strapless bra and tiny hipsters which leave my cheeks bare. “I’m hungry, sleepy, and ready to start the next season of our show.”

  That’s another thing we’ve been doing since our time is limited at the moment—something that is wearing heavy on him and me.

  I’m still here while he’s home, because that’s what London is to me now, and while he comes to see me as often as possible—at the least a day a week—I promised Aurora I wouldn’t leave yet. Not until after London’s wedding, since her mind is on Boston and her cousin will take over the Chicago office. At least, until Roe’s brother is older, and the kid wants to take over.

  To me, it sounds like she’s avoiding.

  She’s dodging Casper and his calls. His every attempt at communication.

  “Fuck, Venus. This is a cruel punishment.”

  “Would you prefer me taking the view away?”

  “I’d rather saw my arm off than miss this.”

  “That’s overdramatic.”

  He shrugs, not the least bit embarrassed. “I stand by my truth.”

  “You’re too cute sometimes.” Callum tries to argue, but I hold a hand up and he quiets down. Huh, so that does work. I’ve seen him do it before, and those around him tend to zip it when he does. “But I wanted to discuss our show. How deep are you into the fourth season?”

  We’ve become addicted to a horror show based in America with storylines that seem to always intertwine with a previous season. It’s addicting, and our thing. We try to watch an episode together every night it’s possible, and two or three when he’s here between my being bent over and displayed for him.

  “It’s good…isn’t it? And I haven’t watched any without you.”

  “Bloody brilliant, you smart lad.” My British accent sucks, and a second later he’s laughing so hard, Callum snorts. “I heard that.”

  My sing-song mocking makes him stop, fake glare in place now. “You heard nothing.”

  “Yes, I did. You snorted!”

  “Prove it.”

  “Maybe I—”

  “Who you talking to, chi
ck,” Aurora asks, and my eyes widen while Callum rolls his eyes. “You’ve been in here a while.”

  “Be right out. It’s Giannis.”

  “Giannis?” Callum gives me an almost insulted expression.

  “Since when are you so close to him?” Aurora taps her fingers on the door. “You two dating?”

  “No.”

  “Okay…” she drags out the word while Callum tries hard not to laugh “…well, I just wanted to tell you that London needs to see the eggplant dress within the next few minutes. Malcolm’s on his way to steal her away for a late lunch. And yes, before you ask, I know you’re hungry and getting bitchy. I’ll stuff you full the second we get out of here.”

  “You freaking better. Your treat, too.”

  “Deal, but hurry up.” Her feet move away from the dressing room, the sound becoming fainter and fainter until I hear nothing at all.

  Leaning against the wall, I let out a sigh. “That was close.”

  “Tell her the only stuffing you take is from my cock.”

  It’s my turn to snort. “Seriously?”

  “Yes. My cock and nothing else.”

  “So possessive,” I hiss low, before blowing him a kiss. “Call you later?”

  “Aye. Behave.”

  30

  Destiny has a way of showing you it can’t be tampered with. You will end right where you’re meant to be, and I’ve never been more sure of this than I am now.

  The traditional wedding march fills the church and guests stand, watching a beautiful woman walk toward her future, but they’re not the ones I’m focused on.

  No, right now I’m watching my best friend smile and shiver as a man with a familial resemblance to Callum mouths words I can’t quite make out. Anyone with a pulse can feel the electricity that flows between them.

  He’s her person. Her lobster.