by Logan Chance
Like a late afternoon dark sky, I see the storm brewing in Gabriel’s eyes. It’s like I mentioned the devil’s name. And maybe to him I have.
“When did you see Ronin?” Gabriel asks. His words are cool and controlled, but the chaos behind his eyes is anything but.
“He called me,” I answer. I’m sure Gabriel will have all my incoming phone calls tracked and traced by tomorrow, but hopefully that buys me a little time to decide what I should do. “I met him at the park. He said I was in danger.”
Gabriel stares at me, like he doesn’t know if he should believe me or not. “I’m not mafia like you think I am.
“What does that mean?”
“I do business with a lot of not so on the up-and-up people, but that’s all it is.”
“That doesn’t make sense to me, Gabriel. Speak English, please.”
“Some of my business practices aren’t technically legal. And maybe sometimes I may pressure people into business deals that work out in my favor.”
I chew on my bottom lip, trying to wrap my brain around what he’s saying to me. “Are we in danger if this wedding takes place?”
“No.” Gabriel steps closer. “I’d never let anyone hurt you.”
I cross my arms. “Why should I believe you?”
He steps even closer, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Because I protect what’s mine.”
And then, his lips crash down on mine with such force, such demand, that I open my mouth for him. Not once thinking about resisting him.
He walks me back to the couch on the other side of the room, tangling his tongue with mine.
We fall onto the couch. His hands roam all over me, and I pull him closer, moaning against his lips.
My emotions are on a rollercoaster. Up, down, up, down again, mimicking what I want him to do with his body inside mine. I can’t control what Gabriel Prince does to me. What he does to my heartbeat. It’s amped up, galloping roughly like a thousand tiny horses inside my chest.
I’m so turned on as he runs his hand down the side of my body to grip my ass, rocking his groin against me.
I can feel the ridge of him through his pants. So big. So hard. And I want it.
Call me crazy. But I do.
It’s crazy, right? Why would I want him as much as I do?
“Gabriel, please.” I pull at the strands of his dark hair.
He nips my earlobe. “Did you just beg me, Clementine?”
His words at the table when I asked him to sign my contract, rush back.
“If you’d like to think that, sure,” I whisper.
“I think I’m the one begging.” He grabs my hand, pressing it against the hardness behind his zipper. “Feel that? That’s how bad I need you.”
His lips meet mine in a fervent kiss that’s all too consuming. I push my hips up, meeting his body and it eases the need between my legs just a bit.
His hand rubs against me, and then he pushes down my shorts. “I need in this little pussy again. I’ve been thinking about it since the moment I first touched it.” His fingers meet the material of my panties, and he pushes them aside. “Let me fucking in there.” His finger slides through my wetness.
I’ve never been spoken to like this before, and it turns me on so much. My breathing escalates as I try to answer him, but all I end up doing is moaning louder.
His finger goes in deeper. “I’m going to get you to come on my fingers this time.”
“Gabriel, please.”
He stops, his breathing coming out in short spurts, and then he removes his hand from my pants. He flips me over, where I’m lying face down with him behind me. He replaces his hand down my pants, his other arm wrapped around my body, his hand resting on my neck.
He kisses the side of my face, moving down to my neck. “You’re going to be my good little fucking wife, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” I say, pushing my ass against his hardness.
He pushes back, his dick pressing against me with such force. “You’re going to beg your husband to fuck you, aren’t you?”
“Yes.” I push back again as his fingers play with my clit. I’m so turned on right now, and so close to coming all over his hand. “Gabriel, I’m so close.”
His tongue drags along my neck, sucking every so often as he groans against my skin. “Your little pussy is so fucking tight. So fucking wet.”
“Don’t stop,” I beg, knowing full well that my orgasm is close.
He keeps working me with his fingers, while his other hand wraps tighter around my neck. “You want my cock inside this tight little cunt, don’t you?”
My eyes widen at his word choice, but it turns me on even more. It turns me on how in control he is. How turned on he is. How I’m making him groan and talk like this. “Yes.”
“You want me fucking you. Don’t you?”
My body builds and builds, coming closer and closer to a crashing crescendo of want and need. “Yes, please.” My words become incoherent as Gabriel’s thumb knuckle pushes at my clit, while his fingers fuck me. It feels too good.
His breathing is heavy against my ear as his other hand leaves my neck to run over my breasts. “I’m going to own these too.” He rubs over my nipples through my t-shirt. “Come all over my fingers.”
My body can barely hold on. I squeeze my eyes shut as my hand reaches around to grab onto Gabriel’s hair. “Too good,” I moan out.
“Fuck, your pussy is so fucking wet.”
Just hearing how turned on Gabriel is does me in. My body crashes, tumbling into my orgasm that courses throughout my body. I keep riding his hand, letting the orgasm continue on and on.
As soon as I come down from my orgasm, I turn over to face him.
He licks his fingers, causing me to blush. “Now, when did Ronin call you?”
SEVEN
Gabriel
* * *
KNOWING Ronin is chatting away to Clementine almost ruins the high I feel from touching her and making her come. Almost.
I don’t like Clementine thinking I’m mafia.
Mafia is such a technical term.
I don’t run an organized crime outfit. But, I may help those who do. I may be in business creating the technological advances for said industries to flourish, and I’m fucking good at it.
But, I would never be in any danger from it.
The only danger as of now is Blackstone wanting to take away a soon-to-be contract I have with a Fortune-500 company. Blackstone has been a pain in my ass for years, trying to undercut me on deals. Outbidding me in markets. Just all around trying to sabotage everything I’ve worked so hard to build. Attempting to be like me and doing a piss poor job of it.
It’s turned hostile over the years. Blackstone always wanting to out do me and never being able to. Sometimes, his dirty play is a bit too dirty for my liking, but I always still come out on top. He’s an evil man. And when Clementine wants to compare me to the mafia and monsters, well she’s never met Blackstone.
She’s never been on the receiving end of his threats. I’ll admit, I’ve played just as dirty, sometimes feeling almost guilty for some of the things I’ve done, but this man just keeps coming back for more, and I always win.
And now he wants to come to my wedding. Well, there’s no way in Hell that’s happening. No way.
I’d never put Tennyson in danger. I would never subject Clementine to him.
“When did Ronin call you?” I ask her again.
“A few days ago,” she says, her cheeks still tinged pink from her orgasm.
“Where is he?” My men still haven’t been able to locate him since he left Blackstone’s place on the island of Zanzibar three days ago.
“He didn’t say.” She’s lying. I can tell. I might have to give her another orgasm to get her to tell me the truth. A man can wish.
“What did he say to you?”
“Just that we’re in danger and I shouldn’t marry you.” Now she’s telling the truth.
“What did you t
ell him?”
“I told him I wouldn’t leave.”
I can’t tell if she’s lying or not, but I pray she’s telling the truth. Maybe she’s at war with the whole thing. “You should trust me.”
Her eyes meet mine in a battle of who breaks first. “I do,” she finally says.
I stand, giving a head nod to the painting I bought for her. “Where would you like it?”
“Over my bed?”
“I’ll have Amy arrange for someone to hang it over your bed in the morning. We have an early meeting with Lana at the Juniper.”
She gets off the couch and straightens her clothes. “What time?”
“Ten am.”
She nods. “It was very nice of you to buy the painting for me.” Her words are sincere. “I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’m going to bed.” She crosses the room, and before she steps out, she peers over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
I don’t know if she’s thanking me for the painting or the orgasm, but I say, “You’re welcome,” all the same.
When she’s gone, I walk to my office and dial Dean. “Put a trace on Clementine’s phone. She’s been receiving calls from Ronin.”
“On it,” Dean says. “Also, this is something you might find interesting.”
“What’s that?”
“Blackstone is in the States.”
I grit my teeth together. “I’m sure he thinks he’ll be coming to my wedding.”
“I’ve already talked to his men for you. Told them he wasn’t invited, and made sure they know not to be there.” Dean takes a deep breath. “I’ll be there tomorrow. And I’d like to go over the plans for the security of the wedding.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less.”
“Hey Gabe, don’t worry. We’ll find your brother.”
“I know we will.” And then I hang up.
I dial Kurt next. “Everything ready for tomorrow?” I ask.
“Yes. The car will be there at nine am to take Tennyson to daycare before you and Clementine head to the Juniper.”
“Thank you.”
“Anything else you need, sir?”
“Yes, cancel all of Ronin’s credit cards.”
I’ll flush the fucker out.
THE NEXT DAY Clementine and I pull up to the Juniper. This hotel is all panache marble and tame stonework, marrying the two together in an elegance of class, creating an idyllic hotel recognized as one of the top-five in the world.
I step out of the back of the sedan, following Clementine to the columned entrance of the Juniper.
“This place is really something else.” Her eyes run over the gold trim of the front door, and it’s impossible to appreciate anything but her. She’s wearing this strapless, smocked maxi dress that has done nothing but make me want to pull it down and suck her breasts into my mouth since she came downstairs this morning.
“Yeah, it’s stunning.” I tear my eyes from her as the valet opens the doors for us and we step inside. The interiors are classically decorated, with polished floors, gold detailing and deep wood panelling along the walls. “I actually play golf with the owner.”
Clementine smiles at me. “Well, you’ll need to tell him he has a very nice place.”
A glass chandelier, dripping with crystals hangs in the center of the lobby, screaming look at me as we pass under it.
“Do we really need all of this?” Clementine asks, raising her hands a bit to showcase the arabesque garden tapestry hanging on the wall and the carved-mahogany throne chair.
“All of what?” I secretly make a mental note to buy a throne chair for the study.
“Gold crown moulding.” Her eyes prance around the room, taking in the gold-flecked scarlet rugs and pristine Venetian furnishings. “Can’t we just do simple?”
I know she’s having second thoughts since last night’s talk of Bishop Blackstone, but I need her to know she can trust me. “It’ll be ok.”
Clementine stops walking and faces me, putting her hand on top of my arm, branding through my suit jacket. “I’m getting really nervous.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. I guess it’s everything. It’s just all getting to me.”
“It’ll be fine. I have the best man for the job.”
“What job?”
“Security. My buddy, Dean Maddox, is a wizard when it comes to security for events.” I lean closer, my voice echoing a bit against the cathedral ceilings in the lobby. “You’ll be safe with me.
She visibly relaxes. “Ok.”
Because I can’t resist, I place my hand on the small of her back, and we cross the lobby to a wide hallway that leads to the ballroom. We step inside the cavernous room and Lana waves when she sees us. She greets us both with a hello and handshake. “Ready to visualize your big day?”
Clementine smiles. “Can’t wait.” I can still see the lines of tension in her beautiful face, but she puts on an admirable facade.
We step further into the space and it’s impressive.
“Oh, wow,” Clementine says, looking up at the ceiling, lined with gold plating in intricate designs. “This place is gorgeous.”
Lana strides across the room with tons of energy as if she’s trying to sell us on the place. She turns back to face us and spreads her arms. “Now imagine this area filled with white-clothed tables and fresh flowers in tall vases decorating the center.” Clementine looks around and nods, like she’s actually seeing it. “The lighting is soft, creating a romantic glow throughout the ballroom.”
I stand back as Lana shows Clementine all the upgraded features of the room, leading her around to different areas.
I do a quick check of my phone, to see if Dean has heard anything. He made it stateside this morning, and together with his team has been setting up perimeters around the estate, trying to find Ronin.
It pisses me off he would just vanish like he has. He was supposed to pay Blackstone, and come right back.
A stray thought crosses my mind, wondering if Blackstone did something to him instead. I put a call in to Kurt. “Contact your men on the inside of Blackstone’s base. Find out what you can on Ronin’s whereabouts.”
“I was just about to call you. He’s not there. He left Blackstone’s and vanished.”
“That’s unacceptable. Find him.”
With my wedding only weeks away, I don’t need a loose cannon running around.
EIGHT
Clementine
* * *
I’VE NEVER BEEN in a place as lavish as this ballroom before. Opulence. Sophistication. Wealth. This is a type of ballroom where the extremely wealthy marry, and I still can’t wrap my head around the fact I'll be married here soon.
The place is fit for a king, or I guess I should say Prince with its carved-vaulted ceilings and floor-to ceiling windows.
It’s magical, and it makes me a bit sad. It’s like a fairytale dream wedding, and I feel like maybe it’s all a bit too showy. “So we’ll be married here as well?” I ask Lana as she shows me around the room.
I glance back at Gabriel standing by the entrance, on his phone.
“No dear, this is for the reception. The ceremony will take place outside in the botanical garden.”
“Oh, can we see that?”
Lana smiles. “Follow me.”
I peek over my shoulder, and Gabriel slides his phone into his pocket. “We’re going to see the ceremony spot,” I say to him as we walk toward the back door, leading outside.
He nods, following us. “Sure thing.”
Lana leads us outside to a secluded garden off the main lobby. “You would walk down the aisle here,” she says, pointing to a small walkway leading to a breathtaking view of the mountains. “And then we’d put the ceremony up here.”
“This is really stunning,” I say, but I’m still so worried about Bishop showing up at the wedding that I stand firm with the wish to have a small indoor wedding with locks and bars on the window.
>
They always say a good marriage is when a husband worries about things the wife doesn’t, and vice versa. If that’s the case, we’re on our way to a perfect marriage, because so far, I’m worried over every little thing, and Gabriel doesn’t seem to have an issue with anything.
I wish Bishop would just show himself already and let me see him. Stop hiding in the shadows while I shop. Stop sending creepy text messages to me. Be a man.
“We could set a few angelic statues on each side of the altar,” Lana says, pointing to where they would go.
“Ok, sure,” I agree, no longer wanting to pretend any of this is normal. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m just going to run inside to the restroom.”
Lana smiles. “I’ll just finish up the details with your fiance.”
I nod, giving Gabriel’s arm a little squeeze as I walk by. “I’ll just be a minute.”
“Are you ok?” he asks, and I smile.
“Yes.” I rush toward the side entrance and inside where I stop an employee to ask where the bathroom is located. She directs me toward a short hallway. Once there, I push open the door and head right to the sink. I turn the faucet on, letting the sound of water rushing soothe my overworked nerves. I need to get out of this constant state of fear I’ve been living in since Ronin told me I was in danger.
The door opens, and bent over the sink, with a handful of water ready to splash over my face, the soft sounds of footsteps causes me to pause.
I suck in a deep breath just as soon as something flashes out of the corner of my eye, causing me to duck my head down.
“What the…” my words are silenced when a hand covers my mouth.
I clamp my teeth down on skin, tasting flesh as the hand covering my mouth lets go. “You bitch,” a man says.
“Help,” I scream, hoping someone hears me.
I kick my foot out, connecting with the man’s shin.
He doesn’t go down, but stumbles back some, and then rushes from the bathroom in a blur of dark clothes.
