“The bad kind.”
John frowned, picking up a pen and rolling it in his long fingers. “Is it because of you?”
“Actually, no.”
“That’s a surprise, given what you do. Okay, so what exactly are you asking me?”
Nick ran his hand through his hair. “You know, I’m not sure. I’m having a small moral crisis. That’s all. I know something she doesn’t and I’m trying to decide if I should tell her or not.”
“At the risk of sounding like a priest, can I mention that it is about time for the moral crisis?”
“No.” The word came out as a growl.
“I think I’d like to meet this woman that has you, of all people, rattled.”
No. His brother was a priest and Nick was … certainly not one. He was fairly sure Reign would find that amusing.
“I think I came here for advice, which I am not getting by the way.”
“How will she handle it?”
When Nick thought back on the other night, he was able to say honestly, “She’ll deal. That’s how she operates. Straightforward and, though ‘accepting’ isn’t the right word, she lives in this real world. Our world, to be specific.”
“Our world? Mob wife?”
“Mob ex-wife. I don’t sleep with married women, remember?”
“I’ve always admired that about you despite a few other flaws I have to overlook.” John’s smile was more of a boyish grin but he sobered quickly. “Nick, here is what I have to say. If you lose her through honesty, so be it. If you lose her because you said nothing, that will be very hard to live with, won’t it?”
Nick rubbed his forehead. “You know, I had a feeling you were going to preach something exactly like that.”
John slightly lifted his shoulders, his smile serene. “And when you walked through the door, I think you already knew the answer.”
Chapter
SIX
He walked into the restaurant and heads turned.
Reign noted it as she sat at the table, smoothing the moisture on the side of her drink glass.
If she had to call it, the men recognized a dominant male when they saw one, and the women were just noticing a drop-dead gorgeous guy. Nick Fattelli leaned over to say something to the hostess and then focused his gaze in Reign’s direction when the woman pointed.
The place was expensive. Men who threw their money around didn’t do anything for her, but it wasn’t a bad sign either that he’d picked somewhere nice. She wore a form-fitting sapphire dress and had picked lipstick just a little darker than her usual shade for contrast. His appreciative look told her the time she’d put into the decision was worth it.
“Hi, beautiful.” Nick sat down and flashed white teeth in that killer smile that had initially caught her attention.
He looked irritatingly refreshed and healthy, and she felt a little mowed over by her day in comparison. “Hi back.”
It was like he went on full alert to her mood. “Did something happen?”
“No.” She picked up her drink and took a sip. A little something had happened, but he wouldn’t be interested in the nuances of her career. “All quiet on the Reign Supreme front. I’ve been staying with my sister until they replace the floor and closet doors and update my security system.”
“Good.” He had a slightly skeptical look on his face, but he seemed to accept she wasn’t ready to talk about it.
He ordered a martini, not dirty but straight up with a twist of lemon, and when the waitress left, he told Reign, “I rarely drink gin, but the bartender doesn’t know that. Hope it’s top-shelf.”
If the bartender had the slightest clue as to who he was serving, he’d take special care, of that she had no doubt. “I would think it would be impossible to ruin.”
“It’s the quality of the alcohol. Just like a beautiful woman. If she’s physically attractive but spoiled, selfish, or even worse, unintelligent, no thanks. I like that dress, by the way.”
“Thank you.” She took a sip of her drink.
His gaze dropped deliberately to her cleavage. “No, thank you. Am I leering? I’m trying not to, but I’m pretty sure the effort is wasted.”
It was odd how he could make her laugh, considering what she knew about him after checking with a few people who would have the information. He was freelance, not part of a particular family organization, but had a reputation for getting the job done swiftly and without any messy loose ends. Considering she’d seen him in action, she believed it. He was expensive, but thorough and professional. That faint accent she couldn’t place must be a hint of Sicilian from his childhood, because he hadn’t moved to the US until he was five, and he’d spent his childhood in Chicago.
Maybe they needed to get the conversation out of the way.
“Investment banker was a slight exaggeration, wasn’t it?” she said, deliberately setting her drink down. “You have an office, I understand that, but I get the impression that isn’t your primary occupation, which you know is what I’ve thought all along. It sounds to me like you inherited the family business.”
His father, according to her source, had been one of the best, and Nick was reputedly even better.
Faster, smarter, and more deadly.
Why the hell she found him so fascinating, she wasn’t sure, but maybe now she belonged to a rare and elite group of people in the world who could say a hit man saved their life.
The arrival of his drink negated her answer to that loaded question. Instead, after he took a drink, he said neutrally, “Top-shelf. Bombay Sapphire. Perfect.” He set the glistening glass down. “The food here is supposed to be phenomenal. You’re pretty fit—let’s not forget I’ve seen every inch of you—so let me guess, fish or chicken?”
“We aren’t going to talk about it?”
He regarded her over his glass, the crystal liquid glistening in the low lighting. “Reign, I think you ought to ask yourself how deep this conversation needs to go.”
He had a point. She’d slept with him just once. Maybe she was making it too complicated too quickly.
Back off.
“Wrong. I’m a steak girl.” Reign picked up her menu. “But I do skip the potatoes usually. I love them, but we all have to make choices in this life. I refuse to give up pasta. I know it is cliché among every Italian woman, but you should taste my lasagna.”
Easy transition.
“Is that an invitation to dinner at your place soon? If so, I’m in.”
He meant it, but in a sexual way. When he’d called, she’d known this evening was about seduction. It just figured, Reign thought in resignation, that the first man she’d been attracted to since Salvatore was also not right for her. In an entirely different way, of course, but definitely not a good choice.
There was quiet music playing in the background, something classical that she liked. Vivaldi’s The Four Seasons. It sounded like it. The sophisticated atmosphere supported it.
The waitress returned—she seemed more attentive than normal, and Reign suspected it had a lot more to do with Nick than just good customer service. Young, brunette, and pretty, she took their order. Without asking, Nick ordered Reign a filet mignon with red wine sauce, medium rare, with a Caesar salad, and for himself a seared duck breast with risotto and roasted asparagus.
Reign didn’t have much of a problem with men ordering for her, but she was amused by his choice.
“Duck?”
“I like duck.” He shrugged those broad shoulders.
“I wouldn’t have thought.”
He set his elbows on the table. “Do I seem unsophisticated to you?”
Reign looked right back. “Apparently that boy from Sicily has some grown-up tastes.”
There was immediate enlightenment in his eyes. “You have no idea. It seems like you might have been checking up on me.”
“Would you respect me if I hadn’t?”
“I suppose that’s a good point. I’m a multifaceted man.” He lightened that comment with an engagi
ng grin. “They didn’t serve a lot of duck when I was growing up, but hey, once I tasted it, I was hooked. How’s that? What else do you want to know?”
The music changed: “Spring” to “Summer.” A waiter passed by with a tray of food that smelled fantastic.
Her turn. Reign said frankly, “Everything.”
“How about we go for partial knowledge and explore it from there. Have I mentioned I like sex a lot?”
“I take it I might be enlightened soon.”
“Is tonight good for you?”
Those azure eyes were a weakness for her. The way he looked at her caused an interesting flutter in the pit of her stomach. She picked up her drink. “Tonight is good. This must be the oddest way two people have ever started an affair I can think of.”
“Maybe.” Nick added in a devastatingly soft voice. “I’ve been thinking about you since the moment you walked out my door.”
That was honest. Maybe more honest than she was willing to be, but she could give it a try. “I’m divorced and have a son.”
One of the waitstaff arrived with a basket of bread and a dish of butter that held a hint of garlic. It smelled like heaven and also prevented him from commenting at once. He offered her the basket first. Then he said carefully, “We all have a past. If a person doesn’t, they aren’t even remotely interesting.”
“I suppose that is one way to look at it.”
“Bella, it is the only way to look at it.”
“I take it you are very interesting, Mr. Fattelli?”
“I thought you wanted to call me Nicky.”
“Is that an invitation?”
* * *
Dinner was delicious, and the aftermath promised to be more so.
Nick knew when a woman had pulled out all the stops—and Reign really had. Her dress was svelte and flattering, emphasizing that, yes, she had full breasts, but also a small waist and that nice ass. He had to wonder if she’d designed the garment just for her figure, because it fit perfectly, though she just wasn’t tall enough to be one of those willowy runway models. When they’d left the restaurant, he’d known every single male there watched the sway of her hips as she walked by.
He did, that was for sure.
The matching pumps emphasized that her legs were athletic, and he’d found her lipstick bold but erotic.
This woman did something to him. He wasn’t positive how he felt about it, but the impact was there.
“Sorry about the cab,” he said as he waved one down. “I refuse to park my car down here unless it’s necessary.”
“Besides, you don’t want your name to pop up in a police report again and you just had two drinks.”
“That too.” A yellow vehicle slid to the curb next to them, and he opened the door for her. “I always hedge my bets.”
She got in and stretched out those gorgeous legs. “I suspect you do.”
He slid in beside her and gave his address. She’d told him she liked his apartment when she’d stayed the other night. It was plain with leather couches and white walls, but punctuated by bursts of color from a few paintings of boats and the sea done by his cousin. They certainly weren’t reproductions and lent the right flavor to the space. Austere, but at the same time bold and opulent, she’d said.
Not easy to achieve, and she knew something about style. More than he did, certainly.
When they pulled up to the building, he took her elbow and said hello to the doorman, guiding her to the elevator. The last time she’d been there was probably sort of a blur from the shock of the evening and the late hour, but this time she glanced around when he unlocked the door and commented, “This is nice. I remember it, but then again, I don’t recall the details. That was an eventful night.”
She swept the place with an assessing gaze. Terrific view of the city, big windows.… He paid a fortune in rent. The furnishings were minimal, but expensive, and while dark leather wouldn’t be her choice, it suited him.
She turned and he said, “The next morning was better.”
* * *
He dropped his keys on the table in the foyer. The clatter seemed very loud on the marble top. Nick smiled and said, “Take off your dress? A suggestion, not an order, and the heels can stay on in my opinion.”
Lucky for him, Reign was on board but had conditions, as usual. “I don’t take orders, you already know that. I’ll take it off, but then you’re naked on the bed. How is that for a compromise?”
“Give me a show?”
Those emerald eyes held a sultry look. “I’m not a stripper, but I’ll do my best.”
Nick reached out and touched her chin. It was just a brush. “I’m really looking forward to this, and for the record, I don’t visit strip clubs. Just improvise. I suspect you’ll do just fine.”
She glanced directly at his crotch. “I get that you kind of like the idea.”
His erection was uncomfortable, but then again, she just had that effect on him in general. “Reign, can we please just go into the bedroom?”
She swung around in a swirl of dark hair and glanced over her shoulder. “You have no idea how lucky you are that you put ‘please’ in that sentence.”
He had some idea about two seconds later, when that beautiful dress slipped down and she stepped out of it. It landed in a pool of blue fabric on the floor and underneath he discovered she wore a lacy black bra and a thong. He’d follow that ass to the end of the earth, he thought as he walked behind her, enjoying the view.
Bra next. He caught it as she tossed it over her shoulder, and he really, really wished he could see the movement of those fabulous tits as she walked, but the view was sexy enough with her heels and just that tiny black thong.
Then she stopped and bent over in the doorway of his bedroom, gliding her underwear down her hips and the length of her legs. Nick had managed quite a number of situations that required precise control, but he almost lost it right then and there, especially since he was fairly sure she’d prolonged it on purpose just to taunt him.
Heels only, she turned to face him. Those generous breasts were tight—yes, she was enjoying this too—and quivered just a fraction with each breath, betraying her excitement. “So?”
“So what?” Like a seasoned predator, he came into the room and reached for her. He was bigger, faster, deadlier.…
“Don’t touch me.” She evaded him, and sexy as hell—beyond even his vivid imagination—she stood there in just those stiletto heels and narrowed her emerald eyes. “Not until you take your clothes off. Wasn’t that the deal?”
“I don’t make deals.” Nick reached for her again.
“You keep your word with me.”
He stopped. There was a part of him that understood that certain equations added up to something that was more important to one person more than the other. This was apparently important to her.
So he’d obey her rules.
He caressed her shoulders, but then removed his hands and lifted them in the air in a gesture of surrender. “I do think I promised that.”
“Off, Mr. Fattelli. Strip for me. You won’t regret it.”
His suit coat hit the floor. “I’m going to hold you to that.”
“Are we in some sort of hurry?” Naked and evidently in charge, she smiled and cupped her breasts, lifting them a little in her palms. “I thought you wanted to watch me give you a little entertainment.”
Damn it, he couldn’t get the buttons undone on his shirt with her touching herself like that, his fingers suddenly clumsy. Finally he stripped out of it and tossed it aside, and then unfastened his belt. “Keep going, sweetheart.”
She licked her lips provocatively. “Not until I see that big cock of yours.”
“I’m working on that.” He unzipped his fly and stepped out of his tailored slacks. To say he had an erection was an understatement..
“That looks very … interesting.” She purred out the last word. “Lie down.”
Nick moved to the bed because that’s what she’d said sh
e wanted, and he reclined against the headboard, lifting his brows. “Don’t stop now.”
“I have no intention of stopping.” She brushed her nipples with her fingers, which was quite a sight. She had such a lush body. Reign asked him directly, still holding her breasts and absolutely knowing what she was doing to him, “I take it you like what you see?”
“Hell yes.” That was not a lie.
“Hmm. How often do you … well … how do I put this? Jerk off?”
He drawled with more nonchalance than he felt, “That’s kind of a personal question, Ms. Grazi, but I’m willing to answer it. I’m going to say it happens fairly often if I am not involved with anyone at the time. I’m a guy.”
She looked like a wet dream in those heels and nothing else. When she slid her hand slowly down the plane of her stomach and cupped it erotically between her legs, he had to stifle a groan. She said in a very sexy low tone, “Women do it too, you know.”
Chapter
SEVEN
She was playing with fire.
Reign knew it.
Nick looked gorgeous in a purely masculine way lying there in his aroused state, his gaze focused on her every movement, his rangy body supine but hardly relaxed.
Not with that prominent hard-on.
His bedroom had the same view as the rest of the apartment. City lights everywhere, the sleek lines of skyscrapers, and the drop to the streets below.
“Masturbate?” He was obviously on board because his voice was just a little uneven. His bedroom had several retro posters and shining wood floors. The bed took up a lot of the loft space, but the rest of the furnishings were actually fairly sparse, which she liked. “Show me.”
He’d certainly been intent when she’d touched her breasts.
At the moment, he was riveted.
“Uhm … yes.” She lightly rotated her fingers, stimulating her clit as she stood there in her just her heels. Her head tilted back and she felt the sensuous brush of her hair on her bare back. “Feels good.”
“I think I might be able to help you out even better.”
“Haven’t you heard, Nicky, no one knows what you like more than you do? Just the right pressure and touch and … oh.” Sensation rippled through her body even as she spoke.
Playing with Fire Page 6