Hitman's Baby (Mob City Book 2)

by Holly Hart

  I gently but firmly took my hand back, closing it around my little clutch purse so that he had no way of reacquiring it. I noticed out of the corner of my eye that Alex shot me an amused little grin, but he made no comment.

  The white villa hove into view as we walked down a set of stone steps towards the pool. "You like it?"

  I nodded.

  He smiled. "It needs a bit of work inside, that's for sure, but I'll get it done over the winter, I think. May as well make use of it while the sun's still shining."

  Looking at the gorgeous old white structure, I couldn't believe that it could possibly need any work done inside – but Alex seemed fairly confident. I decided that this was as good as any point to start actually interviewing him – I needed to take some control back over our encounter, because it seemed to me as though Alex had all the cards in his hand. If I didn't do something – and fast – I could see how I was just going to end up in Alex's bed.

  Not that that wasn't an appealing prospect…

  "How much did it cost, if you don't mind me asking?"

  "Careful," he replied, pointing out a loose paving stone. I lifted a long leg over it, smiling gratefully. "You know," he continued, realizing that my tone had shifted, "I don't really know. More than five, less than ten. I let my lawyers deal with that side of things."

  He said it so casually that I almost tripped over into a perfectly manicured flower bed. "Dollars?" I choked.

  "Euros." He smiled. "It's a lot, isn't it? It still feels a bit like Monopoly money, you know?"

  I smiled disbelievingly. "When you've got that much, I'm not surprised. Do you mind if I talk about this place on air?"

  Alex held his tongue for a couple of seconds as we approached a long, heavy-looking table carved out of a single massive hardwood tree, which was set for two, under a leafy green veranda. He pulled back a chair and graciously indicated for me to sit down. "How," he began, pulling back the seat at the head of the table for himself, "are you going to explain a night like this on television?"

  I reached forward and selected a roll of crusty, locally-based bread from a wicker basket. "Bread, oil and vinegar." I grinned, changing the topic. "You’re really immersing yourself in the local culture, aren't you?"

  He leaned back in his cushioned wooden seat. "There wasn't much culture in Compton, nothing good, anyway." He leaned back, his eyes adopting a faraway glaze like he was diving back into memories he hadn't accessed for years.

  I reached into my purse and took out my little silver Dictaphone recorder. "Do you mind?" His eyes refocused briefly, and he shook his head. I flicked it on and set it down on the table between us.

  "Growing up wasn't a whole lot of fun," he said in a tone of voice that ached with sadness. "I bounced from home to foster home for years." He paused, unconsciously scrunching up his eyelids.

  "Looking back, I can't blame any of the families that took me in for moving me on the way they did; they were doing what they had to, and I definitely wasn't a role model. They were dealing with four or five kids at a time and barely getting a penny from the state to pay for it."

  I wanted to reach over and squeeze his hand in sympathy. "How many?" I asked softly.

  He grimaced. "Homes? Half a dozen? Maybe more."

  "I'm sorry…"

  "Don't be." He suddenly grinned, effortlessly masking his pain. It was clear that he'd only hidden it, though. "So, you were saying – oil and vinegar. Why not? I didn't grow up with anything nice – there was barely enough food on the table, so the first thing I did after getting off the plane in Barcelona was go to a cafe on Las Ramblas – you know, the big street that goes right down the middle of town?"

  I nodded, smiling. I didn't want to do, or say, anything to interrupt the flow of the story Alex was so invested in.

  "I sat down and ordered a beer. That was only, what, six weeks ago? If I did that now, I'd probably be mobbed by tourists. The locals are way more respectful. I've had fun with them."

  I made a mental note to ask him about that.

  He continued. "And out with the beer came a basket of bread and a little bowl with olive oil and this black liquid." He chuckled, "I had to ask what it was! And even though I'd signed my contract by that point, I still wasn't used to having money in my pocket, you know?"

  I nodded.

  "So I asked whether it was free! Can you believe it? There I am, earning a hundred thousand dollars a week – and that's even before you take into account goal bonuses and endorsements, the other stuff like that, and I'm sitting there worried about a couple of euros worth of bread!"

  "Was it?" I grinned, imagining the scene.

  He reached over and grabbed a roll. "Free? You bet it was. Anyway – it's a silly little thing, but ever since, I've had it on the table for every meal. It's kind of like…" He paused, deliberating over exactly how to phrase what he wanted to say. "A symbol of how far I've come. Does that make any sense?"

  I tore a crust off my roll and dipped it into the oil. "More than you know."

  He smiled shyly, or at least it seemed that way to me – though I could hardly believe that a guy as cockily confident as Alex Rodriguez could ever truly be shy. Then again, I mused, the tone of voice he was talking with had a quality to it that made me think he rarely talked about topics like this. I couldn't imagine it ever came up in the locker room…

  He picked up a bottle of open, but full, red wine from the table and poured each of us a glass. "Are you hungry?"

  The truth was, I was starving. I hadn't realized until precisely then, but I'd expended a lot of effort pleasuring myself while getting ready, and my stomach was letting me know – with interest. God, Diana – don't think of that, not right now!

  "Famished." I grinned. "Did you cook?"

  "You're blushing," Alex stated simply, changing the topic.

  I quickly raised the wine to my lips, covering my face up as much as I could. Alex could read me like a book – the thought of what I'd done with my fingers before leaving for his place had crossed my mind for just an instant, but he'd picked up on it regardless.

  My voice came out at a higher pitch than I'd intended. "Must be the walk over," I lied. "Anyway, you didn't answer me," I said, trying to wrestle the topic back to safer ground. "Did you cook?"

  He nodded, studying me intently. "Paella. It should be ready by now."

  "I'm honored."

  He took a gentle sip of wine, swilling it around his mouth before swallowing. "Mmm, not bad – I think it'll go well. I'll go grab the food."

  I half stood up in my eagerness to help, and my little black dress rode up my legs, forcing me to hurriedly pull it back down. "Need any help?"

  Alex's voice came out hungrily – and I was pretty sure it wasn't because of the food. "No, you're fine right where you are. I'll be back in a second."

  He disappeared into the villa through a set of French patio doors, and I heaved a sigh as I sat back down. He had me on edge like no man ever had. I'd had college boyfriends, but they'd never had me feeling like this – on pins and needles, sexually charged, and with no idea what to expect. Spending time with Alex was exciting, not comfortable, invigorating, not relaxing. At any moment, I expected him to lift me off my feet and ravage me on the heavy wooden table.

  I groaned. "Diana," I whispered, "pull yourself together, girl."

  13

  Alex

  I leaned against the granite countertop and breathed deeply, trying to clear my head. I wanted Diana – no, needed her in a way I'd never encountered before. Women were disposable, just vessels for my pleasure – they had been, anyway. That's not to say they didn't have fun – with me, they always had a good time, but Diana was different. She was in my head – I cared about her, and I'd never even done so much as kiss her.

  "Snap out of it, Alex," I grunted, slapping myself on the face and straightening up.

  The air was full of the aromas of saffron, tomato and roasting rabbit. I turned the oven off, pulled out the perfectly-colored rabbit leg
s and set them on the counter to rest. If the butcher was correct, they were small enough that they'd only need a couple of minutes. I wanted this meal to be perfect – felt like if it was, that it would somehow mean something.

  I pulled a little bowl of seafood out of the fridge, fired up the stovetop and set a cast-iron pan on it. The pan had come with the villa and was blackened with age and use, but I'd have chosen it over any modern one. I picked up a bottle of local olive oil – another purchase from the market – and generously poured it in. The green-hued liquid changed instantly upon contact with the hot pan, seeming to thin and dance across the blackened surface.

  I tenderly picked up the heavy iron pan by the handle with a kitchen cloth and manipulated it in the air until the oil flowed to cover the entirety of the cooking surface, then tossed in the seafood. Scallops, prawns and octopus rings sizzled and spat as they hit the hot surface, and I immediately started stirring, making sure that no single item stayed in one place for more than a couple of seconds.

  A glorious, salty smell began to pervade the room and mingle with the saffron, tomato and roasted rabbit. I grinned – if it tasted half as good as it smelled, then I was in with a shot. If Diana was anything like me, then the closest way to her heart was her stomach.

  The prawns turned pink, and the scallops developed a golden-brown crust inside ninety seconds. I picked up the pan again and tossed the seafood into the larger paella pan, still simmering at the back of the stove. I arranged the colorful seafood, gently placed the roasted rabbit legs on top and sprinkled pre-chopped lemon quarters artfully around the edges.

  All in all, I was only gone for five minutes.

  "So you do cook." Diana teased. "Or will I see a chef in the kitchen if I sneak inside?" she teased.

  I set the heavy paella dish down onto the table, relieved that I hadn't dropped it on the way. "You got me," I joked, "but don't worry – I only hire the best."

  Diana's nostrils flared gently as she took a deep breath. "Damn, that smells incredible!"

  I ladled a portion of the rice dish onto her plate. "I hope you like it." I grinned. "I made it special."

  She took a bite, closed her eyes and let her head fall backwards. She looked like she was in a state of orgasmic delight. I had every intention of taking her back there more than once tonight. "Oh my God, Alex," she moaned, "this is amazing. Like, I'm not kidding – this is the best thing I've had since I came to Barcelona."

  It was my turn to blush – something I was far from used to. "Please," I blustered, "you just haven't been eating in the right places…"

  She swallowed, grinning. "I don't earn a hundred thousand dollars a week, though, do I? Seriously, though, this is amazing. Where did you learn to cook?"

  I barely tasted the food as I answered Diana's questions. Her vivacious, lively take on life made the evening fly by, and before I knew it, we'd opened, and finished, a second bottle of red wine.

  "You look cold," I said, noticing Diana shivering slightly in the evening breeze.

  She misheard me. "Old!" She giggled, slightly tipsy. "How dare you!"

  "No," I chuckled, "cold." I reached forward and gently held her shoulders in both my hands, stroking her ever so slightly. "See – you've got goosebumps."

  She looked directly into my eyes, and I lost myself in their green depths. I knew this was it – the moment, and before I could second-guess myself, I leaned in for the kiss.

  Our lips touched, just slightly, but even that tiny contact sent an electric shock sizzling throughout my entire body. I could tell that Diana felt it too. For a second, I was terrified that she was about to pull back, and for second, it felt like she might. Suddenly, her shoulders relaxed and she leaned in towards me. My lips closed around her bottom lip and I couldn’t resist grazing it with my teeth.

  That seemed to be the key to unlocking any late resistance that she might have had left. Diana leaned in enthusiastically, and immediately the goosebumps on her shoulders disappeared.

  "You're right," she moaned as I started allowing my fingers to stroke her exposed skin, and my lips to kiss her neck and shoulders, "I was cold. I'm glad you're here to warm me up."

  I had a sudden thought. "I can do better than that," I said, quickly standing up and breaking away from Diana.

  Her eyes widened and she gasped. "Where are you going?" she questioned me longingly, panting slightly as I walked towards the villa wall.

  "Look," I pointed, "over there." Her eyes followed the direction of my outstretched finger to a recessed pit a few yards away next to a cushioned love seat on the other side of the covered veranda.

  She sounded confused, and there was a hint of longing in her voice. "What am I looking at?"

  I flicked a switch, and suddenly, a dancing gas flame sprang to life in the fire pit. Diana gasped in surprise. "Magic," I said, walking back over and leaning in to kiss her again. "Shall we move this over there?"

  Diana half-heartedly placed her right hand on my chest, as if to push me away. She moaned as I nipped at her ear, gently grazing my stubble against her cheek. "Supposed," she paused, panting, "to be interviewing you, not sleeping with you…"

  I growled. "Oh, please," I said, looping arm around her exposed back and pulling her upwards. She presented absolutely no resistance, giving herself up to me entirely. "You knew exactly what you were getting yourself into coming here."

  I kissed her on the lips again to stifle her reply, and she kissed me back greedily, snaking her own arm around my body and placing her hand on my ass. I groaned as she pressed her body into me, gyrating her hips into my stiffening cock. It was everything I'd imagined – better even. I pulled her over to the love seat and threw her down. The light of the flames reflected off her glowing, red cheeks. "You look incredible, you know that?" I whispered.

  She lay back on her elbows, only raising her head off the soft velvet cushions, and looked at me longingly. "I bet you say that to all the girls," she joked. I could tell that she was hiding something – perhaps a sense of sexual repression: she didn't want to be seen as promiscuous or easy. I could see how her view of herself might somehow be thrown into question by sleeping with someone like me.

  "Trust me," I growled, "you're the only goal I need. And the only girl, too."

  She pouted. "Please, don't lie to me."

  I sat down on the love seat next to her, watching as her flat stomach rose and fell with her breath, which heightened every time I got closer to her. "Believe me, I wish I was lying," I groaned. "Do you know what you've done to me?"

  She leaned in, desperate to find out. "What?" she whispered.

  "You've ruined me, Diana. Ever since you hugged me – just a fucking hug," I said disbelievingly, "I haven't been able to think of anyone else. Do you think I do this for just any girl?"

  She cocked her head to the side, considering what I'd said. "I sure as hell hope not…" She grinned.

  That was it, my cock was bulging, pulsating, practically begging to be released, and I couldn't take it anymore. I growled – no words, just an insensate expression of desire, and fell on her. Her eyes briefly widened with surprise, and then the soft green, smoky orbs softened. I watched the flames dance in them, and then I pounced.

  "Diana…" I whispered, kissing her on the mouth, nibbling her ear, grazing her throat with my stubble. I let my hands loose – allowed them to roam wherever they chose, and they slid down both sides of her torso towards her hips, all the way down to her toes in one long, slow, controlled movement. She arched her back, looking down as my head travelled lower down her body.

  "Please," she whispered in reply. It was a request for nothing, but everything, and I knew exactly what she meant. I caressed her calves, then the back of her knees, tickling and stroking my way back up her beautifully soft, impeccably smooth body. She groaned and writhed with pleasure above me and I grinned – she hadn't experienced anything yet. My huge hand made its way down the back of her thighs and under the tight material of her black cocktail dress. She pressed her
legs together, as though terrified of what was about to happen, but I knew better.

  I started lifting the material up, pushing it up past her hips, towards her flat stomach. I laid a trail of kisses from her right knee up her thigh, lingering ever so slightly on the soft delicate lace material of her blue and green panties, and then kissed her stomach, intentionally grazing it yet again with my chin.

  She let out a ragged breath, and for a brief half-second, her legs parted before she slammed the doors shut again. I lowered my face into the V between her legs, pressing my lips against her mound and breathing gently into the fabric. She moaned.

  I put my hands on the outside of her hips and slowly, so infinitesimally slowly, began to stroke my way back down her legs, cupping her ass slightly with my fingers, then releasing it as my fingers stroked away down the back of her thighs. Her legs parted again, and this time they stayed open for a few seconds – enough for me to hook my fingers around her panties and pull them down and off her body.

  I threw them aside, and her legs snapped shut once more. "Please, Alex…" she begged. She wanted to say yes, wanted it more than anything in the world – I could see that, but there was something holding her back.

  I didn't care what it was – I intended to have her.

  I tried opening her legs, but was denied, so I placed my tongue against the very top of her slit, the only part I could access, and licked softly but unceasingly for almost a minute. When I tried again, her resistance crumbled. Diana's legs parted like the Red Sea, and I smelled sex on her. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she had already orgasmed today.

  I took a deep breath and lifted my head. "Already had some fun today, have you?" I teased.

  Diana went beetroot red, but she couldn't lie to me – not like this, and she knew it. "I…" she whispered, "I couldn't help myself."