Hunted Fianceé: A dark Mafia Romance

by Frankie Love

  When he taught me pursuit and defensive driving, I have to admit, I thought that was the best a thrill ride could get.

  Poppy’s eyes widen and her mouth makes an ‘O.’ “You don’t think he followed you back here?”

  I smile. “I know for certain he didn’t. I know how not to be followed. And I know how to tell if you can’t shake a tail. If you have of your evasive driving techniques down, and there is still somebody following you, you’re always going to see them.”

  “I’d love you to teach me some of that.”

  “Have you tried high-speed driving?”

  “No,” her eyes stretch wider, “I haven’t. It sounds great, though.”

  I laugh. “It’s great if you like being scared out of your mind.”

  She folds her lips between her teeth. “Mmm. Maybe I do.”

  I tell her, “I love it.”

  And we both laugh.

  I’d love to teach her some, to give her something back. Poppy lives over the store and she’s taking a big risk, letting me have a room there.

  “So,” I give her the serious look. “Do we need to get you together with this Nick guy?”

  Chapter Three

  Finn

  If I ever was to crack for a girl, it would be a girl like her. I know it would. That’s the kind of an idiot I am.

  Focus, Finn, I tell myself. Get the job done and then get gone. Get back to Boston where you belong.

  I’m sipping a sharpener in the Kingpin VIP bar. Thinking maybe I’ll take a seat in a poker game. Clara, the curvy server, buzzes attentively around me. Telling me all the great things Vegas has to offer. This bar in this casino in particular. She leans forward and I get a scent from her cleavage as she gives me the view.

  I’m just not feeling it. I have no idea why. She’s lovely, she’s fun, and and she’s my type in every way. She’s plainly hot to trot. And I’m just not.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I catch a glimpse of a slow flowing wave of raven black hair. I would do a double take, but the unmistakable swagger in her walk has a part of me standing up already. And it’s a bigger part than usual. Getting out of my seat, I’m so stiff my balls get bunched up in my jeans.

  I leave a nice tip for Clara, but I pay no attention to her puppy-dog eyes or the jut of her lower lip.

  Leaning by the door to the VIP bar, I watch the sway of Mia’s ass as she struts her way to a high-stakes poker room. Well, all-right. It makes sense that if she wanted to play, while she’s trying to stay off her family’s radar, she would come to an O’Malley casino, not a Moretti joint.

  So, Finn, I think to myself, game on.

  Anything short of a shroud, a sheet, or a hood is pretty normal at a poker table. I have on a pair of Aviator shades and a baseball cap.

  I give her enough time to get herself settled, play a couple of hands. Then I step in. Quiet.

  She’s seated at the end of the table, farthest from the door. I get an irrational thrill, seeing that she took her shades off. They’re on the blue baize next to her very respectable stack of chips. At this moment, she’s taking the pot.

  From a glance at the other players’ chip stacks, I’d say it’s not the first time.

  I take a seat where I can see her and also watch the door. A man gets up from the table. Drops a few chips for the dealer and scowls at Mia as he makes a sullen exit. Nobody else is smiling for the next deal.

  It’s tough on the dealer. She’s working mostly for tips. But she’s cute, and she’s good. I intend to be generous, and I expect Mia will be, too.

  She has a cool, professional attitude about the game. like I do. Not like the over-serious tourists and the excitable kids at the table. We recognize that. So we have a secret already.

  Two out of five players drop straight out. Another folds after the first round.

  That leaves me, Mia, and one other guy in. He turns out to be a tight player. Counting the odds, playing a percentage. He gets a lucky draw and he should be in for the showdown. Mia shrewdly bluffs him off the pot, though.

  My hand looks okay, and I want to see what she’s got. She makes a huge raise, so I’m sure she’s trying to bluff me too and not have to show her cards. Good strategy.

  But I have straight, a seven up to a jack. So I call her.

  Her eyes flash and my heart thumps. We’ve got a decent pile of money in the piles of chips on the table.

  And her eyes narrow like a satisfied Persian cat as she shows me her full house.

  Damn.

  We play three more hands. I win two; she wins one. Her win is way bigger, though, because she suckers all the other marks into shoving big bets in the pot. She’s a demon poker player.

  All the way through the play, she’s throwing eyes around the room. That’s her gamesmanship. And she’s red hot. When her gaze glows at me, I feel it directly. I give her a look back.

  Mia plays with her chips, adjusts her cards. She works her lip. Cocks a nostril. It’s a short time before I realize I’m doing it, too.

  Doing it when our eyes lock makes my cock thicken and uncoil.

  When she bets, checks, raises, peeks under the corners at her cards, she’s either watching me in the corner of her eye, or she’s sensing if I’m watching her.

  We’re plugged into a kind of synch. No words, no nods. Nothing direct. A secret dance, where the moves are shines in the eye or a flex in the brow.

  First, I think I’m imagining it. But the next time I’m certain. Even the dealer caught it. I saw her eyes widen and her cheeks flush.

  One by one, all the other players get up to leave. They’re grumpy. Not only because they’re all losing. But more because they each get a sense that they’ve been shut out.

  The next deal, I’m down half my stack. Losing to this woman with the eyes of a sex witch. I am determined to pull back up. Starting from this hand. The deal is good. I have two jacks to build on.

  Then, passing the doorway in a pack of heavies, I get a glimpse of her brother, Giovani Moretti. What the fuck? What would he be doing in an O’Malley casino? I look up and she’s seen him, too. I beckon to the dealer and whisper, “Let us out the staff door. Quick.”

  “I can’t.”

  “This says you can.” I show her a wad, fat enough to change her mind.

  “No, really, I…”

  “Really. Don’t make me show you my other way to persuade you.”

  Her mouth tightens, and she frowns as she takes the money. As she ushers us out at the back of the room, she pleads, “Don’t give me up, okay?”

  Showing Mia through first, she says, “Sock me. So I can say you overpowered me.”

  I shake my head and tell her, “I can’t do that.”

  Mia grins and leans back. “I can.” She cracks the dealer on the chin and knocks her down. Her grin as she dusts her knuckles sends a hard pulse into my cock.

  I follow her down a dark passageway. After all the glitter and sparkle of the public room, it feels cold and hard. And it echoes.

  We slip into an elevator, and she presses a down button. Down to a parking level. I smile. That simplifies the job for me.

  In the enclosed car, she presses up against me.

  Her voice is low. It rubs inside me. “You know who I am, then.” She sets me on fire. This is going to be harder than I thought.

  She drags a finger down the front of my shirt. I’m stiffening from head to toe. But most of all, about halfway between the two.

  She says, “And you know more than that. Otherwise, how would you know that I’d want to get away from Giovani?”

  I don’t answer her straightaway. I’m too focussed on the scrape of her hard nipples through her clothes and against my abs, and the grind of her hips against mine. Her finger traces my lip.

  “So, how would you come to know things like that, big boy?”

  I grab her ass. My heart hammers on contact with her. “Maybe I’m your guardian angel.”

  “I doubt it,” her pelvis rocks hard on my hot, lengthening
and distinctly un-angelic hard-on.

  The elevator car dings. The doors slide open. We take two steps out. Her lips and mine collide and my arms are full of her. Our tongues meet and dance., Hungry and savage. I feel like the world rotates and fades around us.

  As the doors are closing, she jumps back into the elevator car. I leap to get a hand between the doors, but she timed it too well.

  I’m alone in the dark with the memory of her wave and the sexiest smile I ever saw.

  There’s no point trying to chase her. She could get off at any floor, take another elevator. The hotel casino is huge. And she’s smart.

  Her car is probably down here. Four levels, it won’t take long to check. Stroll in the shadows around the dimly lit parking areas. Take some time to remember what her body felt like. How she tasted.

  If I know her, though, and I think I’m getting to, she won’t come back for her car. Not tonight.

  First she’ll relax. Chill for an hour or two in a quiet bar upstairs. When she’s sure the coast is clear, she’ll stroll out of the front entrance into a cab.

  That’s if she hasn’t already wound some high-roller round her little finger.

  I’m raging thinking about it. Surging, I want to take an iron bar and smash every windshield in sight.

  But I’m a professional. Rage is part of the toolkit in my line of work. It comes up; you feed it. Train it. Keep it.

  And there’s her smart SUV. In the shadows, but right by a ramp.

  Yes, Mia. I am getting to know you.

  Chapter Four

  Mia

  That kiss did not go to plan. I need a drink. I need to sit down. My knees are shaking.

  The move, getting him out of the elevator, timing the jump back in, that all went so well I could have clapped and danced.

  The kiss? Not so much. The kiss went wrong in every way.

  The plan was, a big, fierce, wet, hot, face-melting, hungry, devouring, sloppy kiss.

  Which was what I got. But it was supposed to be me devouring him.

  Not me having my soul sucked out, spun around, turned to smoke and owned. Not me getting blitzed, swept away in a tornado of emotion and scattered.

  Then I jumped free, into the elevator. Only to find I left everything behind, outside. On the other side of the closing doors.

  As the elevator rose, I felt like I left the whole of myself in his arms on the parking level. Like I was with him. Fading. And all that was in the car was a dried out, echoing husk.

  I dissolved into smoke and dust while my trembling body flew up, sickeningly fast, leaving what’s left of me ripped in two.

  The burger cafe is about the only place I can find in the casino where Giovani won’t think of looking for me. The table is as far in the back as I can get. I sit facing the entrance, though, and I have two paths to exit.

  I order Scotch and coke. Separately. I drain the Scotch, leave the coke, and ask for another Scotch.

  What if the guy comes looking for me? The knot in my stomach squeezes out guilty thrills, all the way through my body. I want him so fucking much now.

  Poppy is the only person I can talk to. When I call and tell her what happened in the poker room and the elevator, she sounds breathless. Excited.

  “Looks like you found your hero.”

  “Or more likely, my killer. He did rescue me. Or at least, he got me out of Giovani’s way. But I know that wasn’t random. He’s not my white-knight, stepped off a cloud to rescue poor Mia. This guy has an agenda of his own. I felt it the moment he stepped into the poker room.”

  Damn, he can play poker, though. Another couple of hands and he would have skinned me alive. He has the most beautiful black shirt. And a leather coat, cut like a suit jacket. They’re popular with certain kinds of mob guys. I never saw one look good before, though. Definitely not as good as the one he wears.

  I even wonder if he was the guy who was in the fabric store. Then it hits me.

  Of course he is.

  How else would he have been so certain I’d follow him to get away from Giovani? I was working on the assumption that he knew who I was, but there’s more to it than that.

  He had to have known that I was hiding out from the family. And I’m sure nobody knew that. The Morettis aren’t going to take out an ad in the Las Vegas Sun and the Review-Journal, Lost daughter. Much loved. Reward offered.

  If nothing else, it would tip off fucking Drago.

  I shudder. Could Drago have sent him?

  I tell Poppy, “Seeing Giovani here was a shock. The reason I came to an O’Malley casino was so I wouldn’t run into any of the family. I’m still shaky.”

  And immediately I’m thinking about the guy again. “He could still be in the casino looking for me right now. My random mob guy.”

  “Is he hot?”

  “Molten steel.”

  Who is he working for and what is his plan?

  I tell Poppy, “I’ll get a cab or a limo home. Come back for the car another day.”

  “Aww. It’s sweet that you call this place ‘home,’ and after just a few days. I wish it was, you know? I’ve loved having you around.”

  “You’ve really been good to me, Poppy.”

  “Bullshit. You’re great. It’s been terrific working with you. You’ve really put the life back into my business.”

  “Well, thank you, poppy. I appreciate you saying that.”

  “No need to get a cab. I’ll come and get you.”

  “No need. Really.”

  “I want to. I’m desperate to get out of here. We can get something to eat on the way back.”

  Chapter Five

  Mia

  Billy is our restaurant server. He’s big and jolly and he’s happy to get us whatever we desire. Except they don’t have anything that will remotely suit Poppy’s taste. He makes it sound like she’s ordering a fad diet that’s out of style.

  I let him see how easy it would be for the chef to give her what she needs. And how grateful I will be when Billy brings it to us, the conquering hero.

  Poppy giggles as he leaves. “You’re so great at charming those guys.”

  “Only the ones I don’t care about, unfortunately.” I wish I’d ordered a beer now. I wave to Billy and he comes running.

  As he bounces away, I tell Poppy, “It could work as a test. If they’re taken in by it, they’re no good to me.”

  She smiles. “Trials of Hercules, twenty-first century edition.”

  Poppy asks for a sip of my beer. I tell her it’s too big anyway, and and I’m happy to share.

  She says, “But I want to know how you do that. I mean, you’re gorgeous, of course. They’re all sloppy-eyed and drooly as soon as they see you. But once you start to talk to them, it’s like they catch fire. Their tongues loll and they turn into gawky teenagers.”

  “Oh, it’s so simple. I’m kind of afraid to tell you. I’m afraid I’ll take a fall in your opinion when you see me for the shallow bitch I really am.”

  She laughs, then takes another pull and hands the beer back. “Trust me. I want to know so I can do it.”

  “I’m not sure you’re going to like it.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay. It’s just two things. One thing, really, but in two parts.” She leans forward and I lower my voice. “When he starts to talk, you look in his eyes. You look deep into his eyes and you sweep anything else out of your mind. Except, think of your favorite kind of cake. And don’t smile.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s most of it.” I shrug. “Don’t move. Except to nod, but only one or two times. Mostly keep still. You can tilt your head to the side if you want. But otherwise, stay still.”

  “That works? that’s what you do?”

  “You can refine it. As you talk to them, slowly lower your voice, so they have to lean forward to hear you. Then give them a little frown.”

  “Does it work on all men?”

  “All the ones I’ve come across.”

  “But, h
ow do you tell them what you want?”

  “You don’t. They’ll tell you. Eventually. Do it right and they’ll fall over their feet trying to guess. When they say the thing you want, that’s when you give them a little smile.”

  Poppy says, “It seems a little…”

  “Fake? It is, It’s totally fake. That’s why I said you can use it as a test. If they fall for it—frog.”

  “And if they don’t, prince? Or have you got another test to give them?”

  “I don’t know. None of them have got past the frog level yet.”

  “It sounds like a way to get dates, though. Even if it’s a bit… I don’t know…”

  “Superficial? Manipulative? You don’t think they do all that? You don’t think guys dedicate their lives to learning push-pull, dangling carrot, swishing stick, all those other mind games?” I shake my head. “The dating scene in the wild is an arms race. When you get someone from an app…”

  “You’ve done that?”

  “You haven’t?”

  Poppy’s eyes are wide and her head shakes.

  I laugh. “Don’t. All you’re missing is hours of stomach churning awkwardness and embarrassment. Either they can’t admit why they’re there, why they’re doing it, and the whole thing is a cringe-making charade. Or you get the ones who tell you straight out what they want, and you either want to laugh or puke. Often both at the same time.”

  I tell her, “If you avoided it up to now, keep it that way and save yourself the agony.”

  “How about your virginity?”

  “You making an offer? Poppy, you are full of surprises.” We both laugh.

  She says, “All the chances I’ve had with men are so unappealing, though. I would think it over.”

  I take a pull on the beer and pass the glass to Poppy to finish. “Shall we share another?”

  “I won’t have any. I’m driving.”

  I call for the check. While we’re waiting for Billy to come running, I tell her, “No, I made my mind up. All my life, I was told that virginity is precious. Now, I’m not so sure. I don’t really see what I need it for. But along the way, I discovered there isn’t a man on Earth worth giving it up for.”