My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  “So who the hell did you piss off this time?”

  The furious tone of his voice hit me like a bullet to the chest. We hadn’t made it to dinner, and I was fed up with his patronizing ass.

  “Other than you?” I slanted forward, my lips curling up to expose my teeth. “Apparently, every fucking moron under me who thinks they have a right to my job, so if you’re looking for suspects maybe you should start there.”

  He tugged on his blue tie and grinned like a shark. “Are you accusing me of something?”

  “I don’t know? Should I be?” Taunting the resident sociopath probably wasn’t the best choice, but I refused to back down like a pussy. There was a fine line between showing him respect and handing him my dick wrapped with a giant glitter-covered bow.

  Nico’s eyes burning dangerously, he steepled his fingers together on top of the table. “Are you done with your poor-me tantrum so we can get on with business?”

  “What business? I told you what I know, and I’m sure you already have a mental list of my enemies, so I’m not really sure why you summoned me here. Do you care to enlighten me?”

  He leaned back. “What about your fiancée?”

  “What about her?” I snapped.

  His brows raised and his lips twisted into a sneer. “Does she have any enemies?”

  I snorted. “Fuck if I know. She’s only lived in New York for a couple of years, so she hasn’t had much time to piss people off. She does have an ex-fiancé. I can’t imagine him trying to gun us down, though. He’s some pansy ass artist.”

  “Yeah, maybe so.” He glanced to the side. “Dominick has Tony digging into her past just to be sure.”

  “Great.” I tossed my napkin on top of the table and stood up. I’d lost my appetite. For longer than I could remember, I wanted to follow in my dad’s footsteps, make him proud, and lead his crew. Now, I didn’t know if I’d made the right decision. This was bullshit. I’d never get rid of the shadow over my head. “Tell him to have fun with that.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “Home to my fiancée. After last night, I’m a little reluctant to leave her home alone. I’m sure you understand.”

  I didn’t wait for his response. I didn’t need to hear anything else from him. I got the message loud and clear. Dominick didn’t approve of Evie. He wanted her gone, and the thought pissed me off so much, I wanted to keep her around purely to spite his nosy ass. My family wanted me to marry a good Italian girl within our circle of associates. I always thought I would too, but the more time I spent with Evie, the more I resented the idea.

  My life had been scripted from the moment I popped out of my mom’s womb. I’d go to school, join the family business, marry a girl from the neighborhood, and pop out a couple of kids, hopefully boys. Then the cycle would start all over again. I never questioned it…until now.

  I pulled into the garage in the basement of my home and ran up the steps to the main level.

  “Evie!” I hollered, a twinge of unease raising the hairs on my forearms. When I reached my main floor, glass crunched under the soles of my shoes.

  What the fuck?

  “Evangeline? Where the hell are you? Are you hurt?”

  I ran up the stairs, taking two steps at a time. If someone hurt her, I would find him and rip him apart limb-by-limb with my bare hands. A sickening brew of rage and fear bubbled up my throat.

  When I reached the landing, she stepped into the hallway, my overnight bag tucked under her arm and Carmela trailing behind her.

  “Oh, crap.” She came to an abrupt halt, her hand flying to her chest. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

  “What the hell is going on?”

  She glanced at Carmela from the corner of her eye. “Someone threw a brick through the window in the front door, and—”

  “I noticed. Why the hell didn’t you call me?” Itching with the need to touch her, my hand edged toward her then paused mid-reach. I didn’t know how to act with my sister’s gaze boring into me with the force of a high-powered microscope.

  Evie leaned her hip against the doorframe. “I did. More than once, actually, and it went to voicemail every single time. Luckily, your sister was in the neighborhood.”

  “What’s your problem, Gian?” Carmela asked, her finger pointed at the center of my chest. “There’s no need to be an asshole. Evie was scared, and I was in the neighborhood. I asked her to come stay with me because I didn’t want to leave her here alone, and I had no idea when you’d be home. Do you have a problem with that?”

  I dragged the heel of my hand down the side of my face and blew out a weighted breath. This night kept getting worse and worse. “Evie, are you okay?” I asked, softening my tone. I wasn’t mad at Evie. Far from it. I was pissed at myself. I shouldn’t have left her alone, not after last night. I should have called Tony even though every day that passed my doubts of his trustworthiness multiplied.

  “I think so.”

  She didn’t sound okay. Her voice cracked on the last word, and my heart screamed with some unfamiliar emotion. An animalistic possessiveness surged through me at the thought of anyone having the nerve to hurt her, and all reasonable thoughts fled.

  Without question, I had managed to turn Evie’s life upside down in a matter of weeks. While I knew that made me a worthless bastard in most people’s book, I couldn’t let her go.

  Two steps and I had her cradled in my arms. I buried my head in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of jasmine. I didn’t have the luxury of feeling this way about anyone, especially Evie, but damn if I didn’t give two fucks anymore.

  I’d been caught up in her from the first second I saw her, and that hadn’t changed. I had protected her when it went against every oath I made to the family, and I wouldn’t stop now. Her soulful coffee-colored eyes made me believe she got me in a way no one else ever had, except maybe my twin. That was different though. And truthfully, Carmela and I had grown apart since Rocco died. She clammed up emotionally, and I couldn’t reach her anymore. It was like a part of her died along with Rocco.

  I smoothed my hand up and down Evie’s back, and she sighed. “Did you see anything?”

  “No.” Her eyes slipped closed as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “I think they might’ve wrote something on the brick. I didn’t want to touch it.”

  My muscles pulled tight like a rubber band ready to snap. “Good. You don’t need to worry about this. I’m on top of it.”

  I would be, because I was nowhere near as calm as I pretended to be on the surface.

  “I’m fine.” She pulled away from me, and my arms hung awkwardly next to my sides. “I’m not hurt. Just a little on edge. I’m sure it was nothing.”

  “You’re probably right,” I agreed, not believing a single word out of my mouth. I glanced at Carmela. “Thanks for coming, sis.”

  “Not a problem. I was having dinner a couple of blocks from here.”

  “With who?”

  “Ava.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “As in our cousin, Ava? I thought you couldn’t stand her?”

  Ava spent most of her days whining about everything in her life from her hair to her clothes to a chipped nail. Even when she wasn’t whining, she annoyed the fuck out of me. Everything she said came out in this nasally voice that made me want to stick a knife in her eye.

  “If you haven’t noticed, you have successfully monopolized my best friend, so unless I want to sit around eating ice cream, I have to compromise.”

  “It sounds like torture to me, but it’s your life.”

  She playfully slapped me on the side of my head. “Don’t be a jerk. Ava is charming in her own way.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  “Ugh.” Carmela flipped her long, dark hair over her shoulder. “Well, now that you’re home, I going to take off. I have to be up early tomorrow.”

  Evie pulled my sister into a one armed hug. “Thanks, Carmela. I owe you.”

  “Don’t worry ab
out it.” She toyed with the button of her jacket. “This is what friends are for. Let me know if you need anything.”

  “Thanks.”

  Evie and I followed my sister down the stairs.

  “I’ll hammer a piece of plywood to the door and have someone fix it in the morning,” I said.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-TWO

  Evangeline

  “Here’s the broom.”

  I moved through the living room, my gaze pinned to Gian’s back. He held the brick in one hand and a hammer in the other.

  Gian whirled around, anger and hostility vibrating from him. Truthfully, his intensity scared me a little bit. Not wanting to move any closer to him, I paused, my heart beating frantically.

  He lifted his chin. “Do you know anything about the Russian mafia?”

  I leaned the broom against the wall, and it slid to the floor with a loud clunk, making me flinch. “No. Why?”

  “Just wondering.” He flipped the front of the brick toward me, his amber eyes rife with something I couldn’t put my finger on.

  “Vor’s Property” was written across the brick in black letters with a five-point star bookending either side.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It’s not important.” He dropped the hammer on the entry table, the metal thumping against the white lacquered surface. “I think we’re good. We can clean up the glass tomorrow.”

  I glanced at the plywood covering the glass panel on the top half of the door and then the glass littering the floor. “Are you sure? It will only take me a minute.”

  “Yes. I don’t want to think about this any more tonight. I had a shitty night, and that was before I got home.”

  I scoured his face, searching for clues, only I didn’t see any. I saw hunger mixed with a whole lot of uncertainty. “What’s wrong?”

  Gian pressed his fingers to my lips. “Not now.”

  His fingers slotted through mine, and he guided me wordlessly up the stairs. I followed, more than a little anxious from the volatile energy zipping around us like a storm on the horizon. With every thump of our footsteps on the stairs, my anxiety soared higher and higher. He bypassed the second floor, leading me straight to his bedroom. Images of last night freeze-framed inside my brain.

  “Do you really think it’s a good idea for me to sleep—?”

  His mouth crashed against mine, kissing me single-mindedly and with enough passion to set me ablaze. His hands snaked around my hips, hauling me tightly against him. He guided me backward until my thighs bumped into the side of the mattress.

  I broke our kiss. His throat bobbed heavily, and he looked at me through hooded lids, his eyes generating enough power to light up the Brooklyn Bridge.

  “What are you doing to me?” I whispered, more to myself than him because I was powerless to deny him anything from the moment I met him.

  His fingers curled around the hem of my camisole, and he yanked it over my head.

  “Cute.” He tugged on the baby pink bow at the heart of my black lace bralette, his thumbs brushing across my nipples, soft and gentle. His barely-there touches elicited sparks of pleasure in my core. I glanced up, and my belly somersaulted when I saw the look on his face.

  Lust. Desire. Passion.

  I gasped for breath. It was official. I was a mistake magnet. Put a bad choice in my path, and I gravitated toward it like I’d discovered a unicorn standing next to a pot of gold under a friggin’ rainbow.

  “Look at me,” he whispered, and like a dummy on strings, I met his stare again. His eyes gleamed in the moonlight streaming in from the overhead skylight. He buried his hands in my hair, and a faint twinge of pain nipped at my scalp. “I don’t want your mind anywhere else except on me.”

  He lowered me to the bed. “Take off your pants,” he ordered, loosening his tie and pulling it over his head.

  I shimmied my tight yoga pants and panties down my legs, stopping only to gape at him when he shrugged out of his jacket and tossed it on the floor. Next went his shirt. With every button he flicked open, he revealed another inch of his golden skin. My heart drummed faster and faster, and the air seemed to thicken, cocooning us in our own world.

  “You look fucking beautiful sprawled out on my bed with pink cheeks, parted lips, and your heavy eyes.”

  “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

  His pants pooled on the floor, and his belt buckle jingled. I barely blinked twice, and his body had already covered mine. He pulled my nipple into his mouth, sucking, licking, and grazing the sensitive bud.

  His tongue leisurely flicked over my nipple, and I arched my back. The chilly breeze from the fan wafted over my skin. Less than a second later, his hot mouth pressed against the top of my breast, sucking hard. Lifting his head, he grinned at the little red mark dotting my pale skin.

  “Nice,” he mumbled.

  I didn’t object, because a little part of me liked the idea of him branding me as his if only temporarily.

  His hand snaked between our bodies, his fingers moving with confidence over my already slick flesh. He found my opening, sank one finger deep inside of me, and I shuddered, my inner walls tightening in an entreaty for more.

  Gian swore under his breath, and I could smell a hint of wine on his breath. He withdrew his finger and guided the broad head of his penis into place.

  His lambent gaze collided with mine. “Can’t wait,” he said, his voice a wicked growl.

  With one violent flex of his hips, he surged into me. I stiffened, my breath quickening. My fists knotted in the duvet cover beneath me.

  “I’ve got you, sweetheart.” The rumbling timbre of his voice ignited a full body shiver that sunk deep into my bones.

  He pulled back and then slid in again a fraction, rocking against me, moving deeper little by little with every micro-thrust until he was exactly where I needed him to be. My hands curled into the rope-like muscles lining his spine. The headboard banged against the wall. Sweat glistened on his brow. His hair stuck up, and his teeth were clamped together. Our moans morphed into one heady sound.

  Every stray thought evaporated, and I could only think about him and the way he felt inside of me. My entire body sang with a pleasure so devastatingly perfect I feared I’d spontaneously combust.

  I panted, desperate for the release building with every second. His name tumbled from my lips along with a hundred other disjointed thoughts, each one more lurid in my mind than in expression.

  I slid my hands up his back to his neck, pulling his lips against mine, needing to taste him, needing to be connected in every way possible. I gasped when our lips separated, and he nipped my bottom lip. I bucked beneath him, my nails digging into his scalp. I was close. So close. I felt him everywhere.

  My legs shuddered. My hands tingled. My skin prickled. My toes curled. Before I could break down every spine-tingling sensation, I shattered into a million pieces. My eyes pinching closed, I rode the waves of pleasure speeding through me until my muscles unwound bit-by-bit.

  Seconds later, Gian collapsed on me, the course smatterings of hair on his chest rubbing against my nipples and his hips surging into me with enough force that I slid up the bed with every thrust. He grunted out my full name as he came, the four syllables echoing off the vaulted ceiling like a benediction.

  My senses came back to me piecemeal, as if I were awakening from a long, drug-induced sleep.

  I felt him inside of me. I felt the heavy weight of his body over mine, the pounding of his heart against my chest, the sheen of sweat coating our bodies. And I felt content. Better than content. I was happy.

  The second the thought took root, regret reared its ugly head, creeping into the fissures of my already wounded heart. As fast as the emotion materialized, I mentally beat it back with a stick. I was living in the moment tonight and for the foreseeable future because all my plotting and planning hadn’t got me anywhere noteworthy.

  I ruffled my fingers through his hair, and he groaned, rolling off me. When he
opened his mouth to say something, I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. I didn’t want to talk. I didn’t want to hear his thoughts. I didn’t want to think. I curled my body around his, sliding my leg up over his, and pretended fate was on my side and everything would work out the way it was meant to.

  CHAPTER

  TWENTY-THREE

  Gian

  A sharp thud sounded at the door to my office at my club. I slammed my laptop closed and rubbed a hand down the side of my face. It’d been a week since the brick incident and that ridiculous car chase on the way home from my engagement party, and I still didn’t have a single fucking lead. I didn’t know if the two incidents were connected. I didn’t know the players or their motivations. While the strain of not knowing what was going on was annoying at first, it had grown to the point where it felt like a goddamn monkey I couldn’t get off my back.

  “Come in.”

  Nico strutted into my office like he owned the place, with his dark hair slicked back and some dumbass double-breasted pinstriped suit that made him look like a 1920s gangster. What a fool. He slid into the chair in front of my desk and hooked his ankle on the opposite knee.

  He called earlier wanting to discuss some shit. I assumed it had to do with crap happening in my life, so I agreed. I was desperate. Sal had torn Brighton Beach apart looking for clues and called in half a dozen favors that led absolutely nowhere. And Tony…well, he hadn’t found out anything about the black SUV either, which wasn’t unexpected. Rumor had it, he spent most of his time digging into Evie’s background rather than the stuff I asked him to do. I didn’t understand what Dominick expected to find. She was raised on a fucking cornfield in Nebraska. What could be so sinister about that?

  “How’s it going?”

  I waved my hand at the door. “Shut the fucking door.”

  He glanced over his shoulder. “I’m waiting for Carlo. He’s meeting us here.”

  “Carlo? What the fuck do we need with him?”