Risqué: Mafia Romance (Beautiful Sinner Series Book 5)

by Elena M. Reyes

  “I’m okay,” I say, but he doesn’t buy it. It’s there in the tick of his jaw and furrow of his brows. “Just thinking about some family drama. Promise, nothing exciting.”

  He wouldn’t care either way; this is a one-time thing. However, ruining the mood—these calm yet thrilling butterflies that have overtaken me since our eyes met—is unacceptable to my peace of mind.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” Then I remember something else and I’m smiling, leaning a little closer as if to whisper a secret. “But your family dynamic is one I’m curious about. How do you know me?”

  “My cousin.” Our fingers flex, shifting the car into another gear. He switches lanes, driving around a five-mile-below-the-speed-limit van and punches the accelerator. The action pushes me back into my seat, adrenaline spiking as the city lights become a blur. Did he hit 90? “Relax. I’ve never been in an accident.”

  “Have you ever heard of cops? They’ll pull you over and—”

  “You’re bloody sinful when you care.”

  “I don’t.”

  My response is quick, earning me a throaty chuckle that ends in a smirk. He hit me with a twofer. “Of course, but to assuage you, we won’t be pulled over.”

  “Why are you so sure?”

  “It’s a secret, love.” I’m trying not to get excited over the term. Brits use it all the time and so do a lot of other countries, but I can’t stop the way my heart rate picks up.

  “That’s not going to work here.”

  “No?” Callum asks, turning onto the expressway. “Care to elaborate?”

  Slick bastard. “What does your cousin have to do with me? You’re the first Jameson I’ve met, and you’ve now mentioned him twice.”

  “You know who I am.” Not a question, and I nod. From my reaction when he told me his name, he knows I knew. There are a few families that span the globe who are notorious, and being the friend of a mafia princess—no matter how much Aurora hates it—does come with perks. As does being the daughter of a state governor; you know who to avoid at all costs. “How informed are you?”

  “I’m a governor’s daughter. It’s drilled into my head to stay away from criminals, and your family does business here.” It’s not meant to be an insult, just the truth, and he nods for me to continue while that dangerous smirk remains in place. “Should your name not be on that list?”

  “It belongs at the top.”

  “But that doesn’t explain much.”

  “It does when my cousin is close to your best friend.”

  “Aurora?”

  “Yes.” The next exit is mine, and he gets off, driving straight before making a left, then a right. We’re less than three minutes away. “They met in London.”

  “That little hoochie! He’s who has her flustered and with her head in the clouds?”

  “Casper would enjoy knowing that.”

  “But you won’t spill.”

  “Is that so?” he says, brow raised and head tilted to the side. “How can you be so sure I won’t tell?”

  “Do you want to lose my trust?” The words are out of my mouth before I realize. I’m not even sure why I phrased it that way, but the sudden seriousness in his expression makes me pause. There’s a hidden emotion there that I can’t decipher, almost as if my words hit him deep, but instead of voicing his thoughts, he just pulls up in front of my little driveway. Shifting the gear shift to park, he lets the engine idle while his body turns toward mine. Well, as much as the car allows.

  The man is the literal definition of tall, has a dark aura with dirty blond hair and eyes the color of a gem. A mixture of green with a hint of light blue. He’s dangerous and exciting and maybe some regret if you let him break your heart.

  One time. No emotions.

  “I’d never do anything to make you not trust me. You have my word.”

  “Can I shoot you if you do?”

  Jesus, help me. He grins this time, no cockiness, and his eyes crinkle just a bit at the corners. So boyish. “I’d let you empty an entire clip in me.”

  Those words don’t sit well with me. No part of me wishes him harm.

  “Don’t say things like that.”

  “Why?”

  “Just don’t.” For some reason, my heart clenches at just the mere thought. “Not again.”

  “Okay.” Bringing a large hand to my face, he cups my jaw and slides his thumb over the edge of my mouth. “And I promise to keep my lips sealed.”

  “For now...”

  “Until you say I can give him shit over it.”

  “Thank you.” Then, because I can’t help myself, I push his hand away just so I can smack his arm in excitement. This little nugget of gossip is too good. I’m going to mess with her. “Can’t believe Roe’s been hiding this from me. She’s going to regret not telling me.”

  “Why?” His mirth is clear.

  “Because I’m going to pick at it.” Shrugging nonchalantly, I unbuckle myself as does he. “I’m going to annoy her with the sex-fest they had since she’s keeping her lips sealed about the man’s identity. Don’t worry, I won’t divulge what I know, but I will be pesky about it.”

  “Aurora must have her reasons.”

  “And I have mine.” Turning in my seat to match his stare, I go back to being serious. Arms crossed over my chest, I narrow my eyes. “Which brings us back to how you know so much about me, Mr. Jameson? You know my name, address, and I don’t believe in coincidences. You knew I was there tonight.”

  “I did.” No shame or denying. “But I’ve already answered your question. I found you through Casper.”

  “I’m going to need a little more of an explanation here.”

  “We have eyes and ears in the states, and you just so happened to be in the frame when Casper was checking in on her.”

  “He’s having her followed?”

  “Protected.”

  “That’s an invasion of—”

  “His mother was killed while out shopping not long ago, Aliana.” For a second, his voice breaks and the fresh pain is written across his expression. So unguarded. Open. Not at all what I am used to from the males in my family. “This is protocol, Venus. Everyone is guarded.”

  And it’s that palpable sadness that stops whatever rebuttal sat on my tongue. I’m also not going to question the nickname.

  “Okay.”

  He snorts. “That easy?”

  “Not really, but it’s been a long day and I would rather not end it in an argument.”

  “Noted.” Unbuckling his seatbelt, Callum exits and rounds the car, stopping at my door. He’s fast to open it, holding a hand out for me to take. Which I do, letting his warm fingers pull me out and walk me up the stairs to the front door.

  Stepping past him once we reach the entrance, I reach for my keys when a hand on my arm stops me. His touch is gentle yet firm, and then I’m being turned into his chest with one soft yank. I don’t stumble. I give in, and when his lips slam into mine once again tonight, the low moan that escapes me is full of need.

  They are firm and plush, and there’s a hint of the drink he’d been sipping on; a heady concoction that I want more of and I take it, angling my head a bit, I return the kiss hungrily. A little sloppy with nips across his entire mouth before intertwining his tongue with mine.

  My body feels as if struck by electricity.

  My core clenches.

  And I whine pathetically when he pulls back only to peck my chin, cheek, and lastly my forehead.

  “Before you head inside, I need you to know this isn’t a game for me.”

  “Uh huh.” Breathing hard, I lick my bottom lip to catch a little bit of his saliva there. “Sure.”

  “I’ll be back in the morning. Be ready by nine.”

  “If you say so.”

  “Bloody adorable.” Callum’s right hand grabs the back of my neck, his forehead pressing against my own. “I’m trying to behave here, Miss Rubens. Get inside, lock the door, and be ready for me at nine. We h
ave a date.”

  “A date?” I ask, my mind still foggy from his kiss. His touch. His everything.

  “Yes.” Then his warmth is gone, and I’m left wanting it back. He’s watching, waiting, and once my racing heart calms, I step inside my home and don’t look back. Why didn’t he come inside? Did I misread things?

  Because he can’t be serious.

  We’re not going on a date.

  A thought that bothers me as I change clothes, brush my teeth, and then settle beneath my covers. Was I a game to him? Or worse, does he know my father?

  “I can’t see him again.” He’d ruin my plans to leave.

  9

  I’ve been throbbing since I left her on that unworthy doorstep.

  Hard. Skin taut. Balls heavy and nothing will appease my hunger until she’s pinned beneath me.

  It’s why after four hours of restless sleep, of imagining those pouty lips wrapped around my girth, sucking me in deep, that I made plans and got dressed. I promised a date and I will deliver, but while she sleeps, I watch her door while intermittently reading the notes Kray had on Giannis Martin and his connections to Aliana.

  Most of it was rubbish. Things that I already knew, but I am intrigued by a pattern of unaccounted disappearances a few times a week. Same days. No deviation on the hours.

  I also take account of Kray’s neglect to add the woman Giannis left with inside this docket.

  Which leaves me with two bloody conclusions…

  “He’s either being protective or she’s covering her tracks.” Which one doesn’t matter. Before I get on a plane to London, he will atone for this oversight.

  For now, I send Ezra an email with what I have on Giannis and ask him to cross check and then return my focus to the neighborhood’s occupants. To each of Aliana’s neighbors: an old lady three doors down, a couple to her right, a group of college kids, an empty townhouse, and then a man across the street who only comes and never stays longer than one night here and there.

  No rhyme or reason.

  No frontal picture of his face, as if he knows where the cameras are and avoids those angles.

  But it’s enough for me to deduce that the owner knows her. There’s no other reason as to why someone would buy an expensive home under a fake alias and corporation as proof of income unless you’re hiding your tracks. There’s only a handful of criminals in this city worth a shit, and they all stay far away from the Jameson hold or Asher’s nose.

  Could one of them be bold enough to make this move and try pushing their product? Yes.

  Has anything been attempted since they purchased this property? No.

  Which leaves me to think someone is spying on her. But who, though?

  An ex.

  A family member.

  Someone that shows up unannounced to an outing.

  There’s a vibration coming from my mobile alerting me to a text. Picking it up, I swipe my thumb across the screen.

  I’m a few feet from your vehicle with the breakfast you requested. ~Kray

  Tossing my mobile aside, I exit a few seconds later and watch the large man carrying my breakfast approach. In his hands is a bag with baked goods and a tray with a cuppa for me, and whatever sweet concoction with a dash of coffee Aliana drinks. They’re from a place near her school that she likes, a local bakery, and I know the gesture will be appreciated. I’m not hiding anything from her. She’ll know I pulled a background check and that every single moment cataloged from her birth to the current date is accessible to me.

  “You know, Jameson. This isn’t in my job description,” Kray says while I place the items on the roof of my rental. “I’m not a gopher.”

  “Yet you offered this morning, mate.” Grabbing my cup, I take a sip of the breakfast tea: no sugar, splash of milk. My eyes are already back on her door from the driveway of my recently purchased empty townhome next to hers. Because money talks, walks, and has everyone bending over to take it up the arse if enough zeroes are attached. This purchase took me less time to accomplish than ordering at a restaurant. “Uber Eats would’ve worked just fine.”

  “So unappreciative, Jameson,” he snorts, but then his amusement dies. “I don’t think you’ll like what I found, by the way. There’s more to this than what I thought.”

  “So, the missing information I requested was a mistake?”

  “I need a few more days for her. Please.”

  “Are you asking me as a mate or as the person paying you to do this?” He’s quick to try and answer, but I shake my head causing him to pause. “Think before you speak, Timmons. One is a favor, the other an admittance to neglect and I’m giving you the option here to save your own arse.”

  “As my friend, Callum,” Kray says the moment I’m done. No hesitation. “She’s not a threat, I promise. We have history.”

  “Three days.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Your loyalty thus far has earned you the benefit of the doubt, don’t disappoint me.” That’s the only warning I’ll give him, and he knows it. If Aliana’s hurt due to his idiocy, I’ll kill them both. The threat hangs heavy in the air, yet he places a hand over his heart in acceptance of my terms. “Now, what did you find? Is it about the property with the phantom owner behind me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well?”

  “Last night I pulled a few strings and traced the dummy company back to its owner, and you know him.” My reply is a wave of the hand for him to keep going. I have a woman to wake up and feed. “It’s Malcolm Asher.”

  Interesting, yet I’m not buying it. Something reeks of rubbish in this equation.

  “Do you have the paperwork with you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And you’re sure he’s the owner?”

  “Not one bit.”

  My eyes leave her door and focus on him. The bloke’s never lied to me yet. “What are your suspicions?”

  “Someone’s using his name to cover up whatever they’re up to.”

  “Agreed.” I scratch my jaw, my mind running through possibilities, planning how to rid Aliana of this arsehole that’s too close for comfort. Either you’re here for her, or you can involve her in the wrong place, wrong time scenario, which I don’t appreciate. “A dead man walking.”

  “How deep do I go?”

  “Until I have a name. No matter the cost.”

  Kray nods, mobile in hand as he shoots off a series of texts. “I’ll have everything I find to you by tonight. No excuses.”

  “Good.” The alarm on my mobile goes off then: it’s ten a.m. and Miss Rubens needs a reminder to get dressed. I’ve already let her sleep an extra hour. “Expect a call from me.”

  “Where are we going again?” Aliana asks from beside me between sips of my cuppa—the same cup of tea she teased me about since I didn’t make it myself. Such a bratty little thing. More so when she just called me a pampered punk after I explained that a guard inspected our order.

  Miss Rubens is the only person walking this earth that could get away with calling me that.

  I’d shoot my own father if he’d made the same joke. Casper too.

  But with her, I laugh and let it go. Love it, actually. The temptation. The foreplay.

  I also let her steal my drink after she finished her sugar rush in a cup before walking out the door. The sinful little number she’s wearing today had a lot to do with that decision.

  A white bodysuit with a plunging neckline, and a pair of jeans that accentuate her hips and arse, while on her feet she has on a pair of nude wedge sandals. Her body is on full display, each bloody curve highlighted while my eyes keep coming back to the two little beads poking through her top. She isn’t wearing a bra; her perky tits tempt me to nip each peak as they bounce in time with the car.

  With each dip in the road, they strain against the cotton keeping them from me.

  Each time I press the brake, a little more skin comes into view.

  Motherfucking goddess of seduction.

  “You’ll k
now when we get there, sweetheart. Be patient.”

  “Patience is overrated.” Her huff is cute, as is the way she licks her bottom lip to catch a drop of tea. “Besides, what if I’m underdressed? Or I’m wearing the wrong kind of shoes?”

  “I wouldn’t let you be uncomfortable, Miss Rubens. I’m prepared for all situations.” It’s the third time today I’ve said those words, the first time being seconds after she opened the door in nothing but a tank top and sleep shorts, looking rumpled and warm.

  “Whatever it is, I’m not buying, nor do I care about saving the world at this time of day. Please come back during my non-sleep and on non-weekend hours.”

  “Good morning to you too, love.” At my greeting, her head snapped up and a second later the door was slammed in my face. From inside, I could hear her grumbling and a few noises that made no sense, but I still found so attractive. What are you doing to me, Venus? “Open the door, Aliana. We’re going to be late, and I brought food.”

  “Food?” she asks, voice low. Almost too low to hear, but I catch it and bite back a chuckle. I’ve never felt so relaxed around someone before. Not like this. “Does the order come with any form of caffeine?”

  “It might.”

  “I need a yes or no answer, Mr. Jameson.”

  “You’ll have to open the door and see for yourself, Miss Rubens.”

  “Not really.” From the other side of the door, there’s a snicker and even that sound makes my cock twitch. “That’s what peepholes and my Ring camera are for.”

  “True. You could...”

  “Why is there a but in that pause?”

  “Because it’s on you if the drink which you desire turns cold.” I’ve never seen someone open a door so fast. A second later, she was tapping her small foot and holding a hand out with an expectant face. “Good morning, Miss Rubens. Ready to try this again?”

  “My coffee, please.”

  “So polite.” There’s a flash of annoyance in her eyes, but that’s dashed the second I hand over her cup and the bag of baked goods. Then, she’s all smiles and stepping aside so I can enter while she swallows half the contents in the cup in one go. “I’ll close the door.”