Flesh and Blood (Dixie Mafia Series Book 1)

by Cynthia Rayne

  “You love dining al fresco, don’t you?” Belle settled into the chair he held out for her.

  Dix leaned over and whispered, “I love doin’ a lotta things outdoors, but you’ll find out soon enough.”

  Her breath caught, and a shiver of sexual anticipation slid down her spine.

  Then he rounded the table, a bland expression on his face as if he hadn’t said something sexually suggestive. Acting like a solicitous host, Dix placed a bowl in front of her and the other in front of himself. He offered her the basket, Belle took a roll, then he poured them each a glass of Moscato.

  Belle took a healthy gulp of the wine. If he hadn’t been there, she wouldn’t have bothered with glasses. It felt like a wine-and-misery sort of night.

  He took in the view for a moment. “I spend most of my time in the office, so I miss being outdoors.”

  Belle was grateful for the topic change—finally, something normal to discuss—so she seized on it.

  “Tell me more.” Belle wanted to know more about the man and what she was getting herself into.

  Dix leaned back in his seat. “When I was a kid, I used to work on my father’s cattle ranch. In the summer months, I only went inside to sleep and eat.”

  The revelation surprised her because he’d cultivated such a sophisticated businessman persona, despite his criminal associations.

  “Why didn’t you go into the ranching business?”

  Dix shrugged. “He had a small operation, and we were always in debt. Eventually, he had a bad year and was forced to declare bankruptcy. When I was a junior in high school, he lost the whole shebang—the farm, the house, even his vehicles.”

  “I’m so sorry.” While Belle had never had anything of value growing up, she imagined it’d be even harder to have something and then lose it.

  “It was a very long time ago.” Dix bit into his roll.

  She didn’t buy his indifference for a second, but she let it go. Most people kept their pain bottled up and tucked away. In sessions with clients, she’d seen it again and again.

  “How did you get into this, er, particular line of work?”

  He laughed. “You’re such a diplomat, and you don’t gotta be. We don’t need the bullshit.” Dix leaned forward as if they were trading confidences. “We both know I’m a bad man, and all my gains are ill-gotten.”

  “I’m not a diplomat. I’m a counselor.” Was a counselor, and she felt lost without the title. “Please answer the question.”

  Belle was good at building rapport with a client and learning what was important to them. Dix wasn’t a client, but their liaison involved money so she’d keep some professional barriers to protect herself. If Belle agreed to be his lover, she’d never be stupid enough to fall in love with him.

  Scratching his chin, he thought about her question before he spoke.

  “When I was seventeen, my life was ripped apart and sold off by corporate suits. My father couldn’t do a damn thing to stop it, so I learned the hard way about power. Wealth and power go hand in hand, and I never want to be without either of them. You know what’s that’s like, don’t you?”

  Belle did. “Yeah, I’ve been poor and powerless for months now. I never had much of either, but I lost what little I had.” And she’d been floundering ever since.

  “I’m sorry.” Dix squeezed her hand. His swallowed hers up. “There’s one thing I couldn’t find out about you over the past couple of days.”

  “Oh?” Belle stirred the soup, not meeting his eyes.

  “Why’d you get fired, Red?”

  “Red?” It was an easy deflection. She couldn’t talk about it with him—it was too humiliating.

  “Yeah, Red suits you. I’m makin’ it your nickname.” He narrowed his eyes. “And I appreciate the diversion tactic, but you’re gonna answer my question.”

  Belle pursed her lips. “I’ll tell you, but not tonight. I want to hear more about you.”

  “Fine, I promised to take it slow. Not much more to tell. I studied management in college, got a good job after graduation.”

  “And then what?” She licked her dry lips.

  His gaze followed the movement.

  “Finish the story.”

  “Once I became a bankin’ executive in Dallas, an opportunity presented itself. I took it, and I haven’t been without money or power since.” Dix set his jaw. “That’s somethin’ I’d advise you to do, Red. Use this opportunity and put yourself in a position to control your own destiny. I want you to walk out of here with money in your pocket and more options than you had before.”

  Why did he even care?

  Regardless, Belle took the advice to heart. Dix would be paying her a lot of money, and she planned on socking away most of it for a Noah’s Ark-level rainy day—because she seemed to be having a lot of those lately.

  After they had finished eating, a maid cleared the dishes away, and they were left with cups of coffee and an awkward gulf between them. She had so many questions to ask but didn’t know how to bring them up.

  “Did you enjoy dinner?” he asked. Dix seemed to sense her unease because the words were gentle.

  “Yes, it was delicious.” And it had been, though she’d been too nervous to really savor the food. She wanted this over and done with.

  Dix retrieved a briefcase and removed a sheaf of papers. He set the packet in front of her.

  There it was—a mistress agreement, laid out in black and white. Although, the politically correct term on the form was companion agreement.

  “I had my lawyer draw this contract up. Like I said, I’ll be givin’ you ten grand a month, along with expenses.”

  “It’s a lot of money.”

  Belle flipped through the pages, reading it as quickly as possible. It was written in legalese, and while she had a master’s degree, she couldn’t decipher all of it. Nor could she afford an attorney to go over the agreement.

  “Consider it hazard pay, Red. We’ve established I live in on the dark side, and you’re worth the expense.”

  “Why?” She couldn’t see it. Belle wasn’t an actress or a model. Why on earth would any man pay so much?

  “I don’t expect you to get it.” Dix rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I spend most of my days with terrible people. You’re a good person who’s had some hard knocks—meetin’ someone like you is rare in my line of work. I wanna help you out.”

  She glanced at the contract again doubtfully.

  “You know who borrows money from me?”

  Belle shook her head.

  “Criminals who can’t use legit sources, people who’ve made poor life choices, gamblers who got themselves in too deep, drug addicts who’ve already stolen everythin’ of value from their family and friends….”

  “Those last two are both addictions. It’s psychological—they can’t help themselves.”

  “I don’t believe it, and even if I did, it ain’t my problem.”

  He made it sound so black and white. Or maybe he wanted to justify his own bad deeds. Dix lent money at very high interest rates. It’s how he earned a living, and she’d be profiting from those people’s misery, too, albeit once removed.

  “Let’s talk about the extras. You’ll be paid for expenses.” As though Dix could sense her thoughts, he paged to the back of the document, outlining a list of goodies.

  “What kind of expenses?”

  “Clothing, jewelry, makeup...as part of your position as my mistress, you’ll be attendin’ functions with me, and it's important you look amazin’.” Dix pulled a black Amex from his pocket and handed it to her. “You can charge everythin’ else you need on this.” His name was printed on the card, but she doubted anyone would question her about it in this town.

  Belle placed it on the table. “What kind of functions?” It was one thing to have sex with him, but she’d be hanging out with mobsters? Chilling with them near a fruit plate at a party?

  Dix leaned back in his chair. “Family is very important to my organization—we’
re more than co-workers. My boss’s birthday ball is comin’ up this week. I’m sorry for the short notice, but you’ll be attendin’. Tucker Cobb is havin’ a formal, black-tie affair.”

  “I’ll be your date?” It sounded normal, except for the mafia part.

  “Yes, and there’ll be more functions like it—barbecues, graduations, and the like.” He gestured to the contract. “I own your time now.”

  The fine print gets you every time.

  “I have a few questions.”

  “Fire away.” Dix folded his arms behind his head.

  “What’s the duration of this arrangement?”

  “We’ll give it sixty days with an option to renew. If we both choose to extend the arrangement, there will be a cash bonus.”

  Twenty grand for the two months, with the possibility of a cash bonus and a couple more months of employment. Belle would have enough money to keep herself afloat while she job-searched.

  “What about sex?” Belle tried to sound nonchalant, but her voice came out high and squeaky.

  “Yes, by all means, let’s talk about it, Red.” Dix leaned across the table. She flushed, and he chuckled. “Once you’re ready, I expect a lot of sex. I have a very healthy appetite, and you’ll spend a lot of time in my bed. And there’s no need to worry, I’m clean. I get tested regularly. What about you?”

  Belle closed her eyes and prayed for patience.

  “I’m clean too.” It’d been a while since she’d had a sex partner.

  “Good.” His foot brushed hers beneath the table, and she jerked away so fast coffee spilled over the rim of her cup. “Little bit on edge?”

  “No!”

  “Yes.”

  Damn him for playing with her. His eyes were big and bright—Dix was enjoying himself, loving the chase.

  Again, a delicious rush of liquid warmth spread through her body.

  “And what kind of sex do you expect a lot of?”

  “Why, Red, are you askin’ me if I have any kinks?”

  “It’s an awful lot of money. I figured—”

  “I must be some sort of deviant?”

  “Well, are you?”

  “Maybe.” His smile was carnal. “You and I are gonna get real comfortable with one another. And to answer the question, I’m a bit of a control freak. I’m sure you’ve guessed that.”

  The man who’d systematically combed through her life? Shocker.

  “And my need for control extends into the bedroom, but I’m not into anythin’ too kinky.”

  Belle shivered just thinking about it. She’d only had one kiss, but she instinctually knew the sex would be good. Damn good. Maybe the best sex of her life. Pressing her legs together, she tried to think about something else.

  “You’re wantin’ it, aren’t you?” His gaze lingered on the bed.

  “No.”

  “Don’t lie, Red.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, staring at the table.

  “Anythin’ else you need to know?”

  Right now, she couldn’t think.

  “Sign it.” Dix withdrew a silver pen from his pocket and placed it on the contract.

  Belle stared at the signature line. Once she signed, her life would never be the same.

  She could almost feel Dix’s penetrating gaze like a touch on her skin.

  Before she could talk herself out of it, she seized the pen and scribbled her signature. From here on out, she’d live on the edge. Belle had made a binding agreement with a wicked man, and she was about to enter his dangerous world.

  And that’s all it took to become Dixon Wolf’s mistress.

  Belle wondered if she’d made the biggest mistake of her life.

  As soon as she set the pen down, Dix was on his feet, standing over her.

  “Normally, I seal a deal with a handshake, but I think somethin’ a bit more sociable is in order.”

  He fisted his big hand in her hair while the other held her chin. Dix dipped her head back and feasted on her mouth. The kiss was possessive, a bit obsessive. He stole her breath and a bit of her sanity.

  She lacked the strength to push him away. Belle wasn’t sure she even wanted to.

  Dix rasped against her ear, “You’re mine.”

  Chapter Nine

  Dix had woken up in a fucking fantastic mood—sweeter than stolen honey and twice as tasty. After he’d sent Belle home last night, he’d given himself some five-fingered relief in the shower so he didn’t go to bed with blue balls. Despite the lustful cravings, Dix was flying high.

  He hadn’t had a mistress in months and needed the diversion. None of his former mistresses had been so cagey. They’d fallen into bed with him after the first dinner, but not Belle. She kept him guessing, waiting. This morning, he’d gotten up early to deposit the funds into her account to seal the deal.

  The anticipation made it so much more exciting. He hadn’t pursued someone so intensely since he’d courted Ellie. Ellie had been his high school sweetheart, and they’d spent a year kissing and cuddling, leading up to more. It’d taken a lot of work to even put a hand beneath her shirt, but, oh, it’d been worth the wait.

  Ah, Ellie.

  Thinking about her made his chest ache. Dix pushed the wedding band around and around his finger. Ellie had died long ago, but the wounds still pained him. Dix shared his body with other women but never bared his soul to them. Loving and losing Ellie had nearly killed him. Dix wouldn’t put himself in the same position again.

  He was better off alone.

  Dix deliberately put her from his mind. He’d spent enough time dwelling on the past. Right now, he needed to focus on the future, and for the moment, his future included Belle.

  Something about Belle called to him, and he was more taken with her than he cared to admit. He still couldn’t believe he’d talked her into the agreement. Dix feared she’d back out—run from him again—but she’d signed, albeit reluctantly.

  And soon, she’d be his in every sense of the word.

  Vick walked into his office and handed him a file without a word.

  Since he’d been pursuing Belle, she’d given him the silent treatment, and he could almost feel the disapproval wafting off of her.

  “You gonna talk to me?”

  She didn’t reply, looking down her nose at him.

  “Come on, let me have it. I know you’re dyin’ to tell me off.”

  He sat back in the chair, waiting for a tongue-lashing. Vick was the only one who’d dare to speak him to this way. Their working relationship had a strong underpinning of friendship and respect—until lately.

  She hadn’t been working for him long, but he’d already be lost without her fearsome tech skills. When he’d first met Vick, he assumed she’d be a pushover, but the mouse had claws and teeth. Although, it was much more fun watching her unleash the wrath on their colleagues.

  Her brows pinched together. “Any reason why I should waste my breath?” It was the most interaction they’d had in a couple of days.

  “I ain’t gonna hurt her.” Far from it. Dix wanted to help Belle and himself in the process.

  “She’s not a floozy like the others.”

  “Hold on a cotton-pickin’ minute. I don’t date floozies.”

  “All your lady friends—and I use the term loosely—rode your gravy train with biscuit wheels. And you don’t date at all.” Vick filled a mug full of coffee and sat across from him, eyes narrowed.

  “So I like to spoil ’em a bit. I got the money.” The money and gifts were a consolation prize since he didn’t give more of himself. Dix had loved exactly one woman, and that wouldn’t change anytime soon.

  “That ain’t the point.” Vick lifted her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose as though her patience had hit the limit.

  “And since we’re all up in each other’s business, let’s talk about your love life.” Dix refused to feel guilty about his affairs. He was a widower, and he could do whatever he damn well pleased.

  “This isn’t about me.”
She wagged a finger. “Mark my words…you’re gonna regret this decision. Belle’s a decent human bein’, unlike the lowlifes we deal with, and she deserves more. And when you figure it out, I’m gonna say I told you so.” Grabbing the coffee, she sauntered out of the room, head held high.

  Dix doubted it. In fact, he wanted to see Belle tonight, persuade her to give him more than a few kisses.

  With a grin, he picked up the phone.

  ***

  A text alert woke Belle up.

  Lately, she’d dreaded looking at the damn thing. It was only bad news—creditors demanding payments she couldn’t afford and Dear John conversations with potential employers who didn’t want her.

  The newest text was from Dix; Belle recognized the tone when it came in. She’d assigned “L’il Red Riding Hood” by Sam the Sham to his number—an auditory reminder of who he was and what he wanted from her.

  Dinner and dessert tonight—7. I need something sweet.

  She doubted he meant chocolate mousse or cheesecake.

  And Belle wished reading the words didn’t give her an erotic thrill. She thumbed a response, saying she’d be there, and deleted the message—in case she was tempted to look at it again. Sex and commerce, not a relationship. Keep the barriers in place.

  Belle read the next message.

  Deposit Notification.

  Amount: $10,000

  Holy crap. There it was—a third of her yearly salary, hanging out in her account.

  Belle feared it was a dream, and to check, she pinched her own arm.

  Ouch.

  Yes, her deal with Dix had been very real. And she might come to regret it later, but right now, she felt like dancing. Belle had all the money she needed to pay her bills and then some. No more hiding from creditors, living off peanut butter and saltines, or caffeine-less mornings.

  With a sigh, she curled on her side and, for the first time in months, relaxed. For once, her mind didn’t race with nightmare scenarios. She didn’t even have to get out of bed if she didn’t want to—except for her dinner plans. There’d be no frantic online job searches or getting her hopes up for another fruitless job interview. Belle had the opportunity to unwind and regroup before she looked for a job again.