Risky Temptation

by Hart, Gemma

  It was kind of thrilling and scary to think that perhaps I had actually found my happily ever after. It felt so impossible for someone like me and Marco—a former FBI agent now gone rogue and a former mafia head and dangerous hitman. Yet every day, I woke up feeling like I was living the absolute dream.

  Perhaps I had actually found it, my happy ending. And maybe it was time I began to truly embrace it.

  After all, of all people, Marco and I knew very well the value of time and especially the value of time spent with loved ones. I shouldn’t be wasting any of it by quibbling over details or stressing over what-ifs. I needed to live in the moment.

  And that’s what I would do.

  Because in Marco’s embrace, there truly was a happily ever after waiting for me.

  Chapter Two

  Marco

  “Do they not feed you at that school?” I asked, mildly stunned as I watched my brother literally inhale his entire meal.

  We were at a pub nearby his university and as usual, Jamie had gone ahead and ordered the entire left side of the menu. There was shepherd’s pie, steak and ale pie, fish and chips, pudding, roast sandwiches, and a discarded and forgotten salad that had clearly been ordered by mistake.

  Jamie shrugged, his mouth bulging with various bites of all the dishes. “Can’t a guy just be hungry?” he said, stuffing in another french fry into his full mouth.

  I shook my head as I took a sip of my beer. “Just watch yourself. I don’t want you eating the table too.”

  “Ha ha,” Jamie said, his sarcasm muffled by the food in his mouth.

  The pub was relatively quiet today. It was an odd time of day, in between lunch and dinner. There were a few patrons but for the most part, we had the place to ourselves.

  We sat in the far back corner. I liked having a solid wall behind me with a good view of the door and exit points like windows. Old habits die hard.

  And the back area gave plenty of space for Jamie’s wheelchair.

  Which I noticed had begun sagging quite noticeably in the seat ever since Jamie had started his meal. The kid was as skinny as a toothpick but he ate like a monster.

  My lips twitched as I remembered a few weeks ago when Halle had complained that it was unfair that Jamie could eat whatever he wanted and not gain an ounce while she could just look at a slice of pie and immediately blow up. I had been about to correct her and say that I had never seen her ‘blow up’ but Jamie beat me to the punch.

  He had smiled up angelically at her and said, “I know, right? I could’ve been a model. The catwalks of Milan are just a touch less brilliant because of my absence, don’t you think?”

  Halle had immediately burst into laughter and I couldn’t help myself but cuff him on his silly head.

  “Why isn’t Halle here today?” Jamie asked, jerking me out of my thoughts. Did the kid have ESP or something?

  “She’s out making sure some of our furniture comes in on time,” I said. “We’ve basically only had a bed and a few chairs for the last couple weeks.”

  Jamie gave me a knowing look. “Just the bed, eh? I see you have your priorities straight.”

  I gave him another cuff. Smartmouthed kid. I grinned as Jamie laughed in protest.

  “Plus, she said it would be good for me to come on my own,” I said. “She wanted us to have some ‘brotherly bonding’ time.”

  I expected Jamie to make another crack but instead, I saw his eyes soften and his lips turn up in a soft smile. Much fairer than me with blonde hair and blue-green eyes, Jamie looked very much like a young kid when his face was relaxed.

  “She’s good,” he said softly. He looked down at his various half eaten pies then looked up at me with a faint smile. “She’s good. I like her.”

  My chest tightened at his words. I had never worried about Jamie liking or disliking Halle. In fact, I had had no time to worry about such things. After all, we had left the States on the heels of a murder. A very deserved murder but a murder nonetheless. I hadn’t had time to worry about what Jamie would think of this new stranger I was now bringing into his life.

  Although even if I had had time to worry, I wouldn’t have. How could anyone not like Halle? After all, it had been her guileless charm and gutsy bravado that had kept her alive in the Desmond compound. No one was immune to Halle Margot.

  And yet, it felt good to hear the words of approval from Jamie. It felt as if a missing puzzle piece had fallen into place in my heart. I hadn’t realized it but somehow, subconsciously, I had been hoping that Jamie would love and appreciate Halle as much as I did. And it felt good to know that he could see her light as well as I could.

  Good? No, she was fucking amazing.

  And I was lucky to have her.

  When I think of all the narrow escapes we had had to make it to where we were now, I was more than lucky. I was blessed.

  “Can’t argue you with you there,” I said, taking another sip of my beer.

  Jamie grinned.

  “What about that project you said you had been working on? How’s that going?” I asked, changing topics.

  Jamie’s face lit up. Although confined to a wheelchair, Jamie was never slow in anything, least of all academics. He was brilliant. His brain seemed to just eat up any bits of knowledge that it was given. And it made me proud to see him flourish so well after the shitshow his childhood had been.

  Well, our childhoods. We had both grown up under the sadistic thumb of Roy Desmond. But I had lucked out. I had somehow by some genetic machinations inherited that killer instinct, that knack for survival even against the harshest, cruelest circumstances.

  But Jamie hadn’t been like that. Jamie had been fair and delicate. His health had always been on the shaky side. That didn’t stop him from smiling and being as bright as the sun but those were definitely not qualities Roy Desmond could give any fucks about.

  And no matter how much Roy had tried to stamp out the light in Jamie, it hadn’t worked. Even after being crippled, Jamie had retained that untainted sweetness that had galvanized me to make sure Roy never laid a finger on him again.

  “It’s going great!” Jamie said enthusiastically. “We actually presented it last week and I spoke with my advisor about it yesterday. She said the research had been impeccable and that with how well we had done, she wouldn’t be surprised if we were nominated for the Amateur Theorist Award.” He blushed slightly, clearly a little embarrassed to be tooting his own horn.

  But I slapped him on the back, grinning in pride. “Congratulations, man!” I said. “Way to fucking go!”

  Jamie huffed a laugh. “I forget how American you are,” he said, rolling his eyes but smiling in pleasure.

  I raised a brow at him. “You’re American too, little brother,” I reminded him.

  He gave me a haughty look, lifting his chin a little. “Yes, but I’ve learned a more elegant line of speech, older brother,” he said with a hint of a British accent.

  I grabbed his nose and yanked his head forward. He gave a cry of protest as he tried to wriggle out of my grasp. “Yeah, well, you’ll just have to deal with the fact you got a crude American brother who likes his ‘fucks’ like he likes his women—free and proud!”

  Jamie finally pulled away. I laughed as I watched him scrunch his face up as he tried to get feeling back in his nose. He gave me a dirty look then called over a waiter to order some more food, giving me a measured look since we both knew I’d be picking up the tab.

  We ate together, giving each other updates on our lives. Mostly, I let Jamie talk, wanting to hear about what was going on. The less he knew about the complications about mine and Halle’s life the better.

  I had of course told him about Roy’s death but I had left out the circumstances that had led to it. Jamie had taken the news with a blank face, nodding as if he was hearing a news report about a stranger. “Okay,” he had said. And that had been it.

  Roy had never been any class of father to either of us but least of all to Jamie. It was right that the fuc
ker had only gotten such a flippant one word epithet from his son.

  But everything else, we kept the details loose and vague. And Jamie was keen enough to know not to ask too many questions.

  With most of the food demolished, Jamie leaned back in his chair, looking over the expanse of cleaned plates.

  A comfortable silence fell over us as we sat as brothers, enjoying the repletion felt after such a massive meal.

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  I looked up in surprise.

  Jamie stared at me, his clear blue eyes steady and open. His lips held a faint curve of a smile. There was a wistfulness in his eyes but it was also coupled with a deep and undeniable happiness.

  “I had always…” he started, then coughed and looked down, clearly unsure how to express his emotions. “I had always wished we could’ve spent more time together when I was younger.” He gave a half shrug as if to shake off how deep this secret wish had been.

  “I had the best of everything here, I know, but I was…lonely. I missed you. I missed having family.” He picked at the corner of his napkin. “And I felt bad that I couldn’t be there to help you.” He made a gesture to his legs. “I know I couldn’t have helped with much anyway, but still.”

  It was a rare reference to his ruined legs. Jamie was a paraplegic and had been since eighteen. But rarely did I ever hear him complain. Even as we had shipped him off to England where he would be a safe distance away from the dangers of L.A. and Roy Desmond, Jamie had squeezed my hand in reassurance.

  He had never let himself be the victim even though he had every right to be.

  So hearing him suddenly refer to his legs, I felt my heart clench in spasm of pain. And a fiery rage burned within me to shoot Roy Desmond again. I wanted to carve a knife into him and let him feel all the pain he had inflicted on his own sons.

  “Jamie,” I said, waiting for him to meet my gaze. “Knowing you were safe, knowing you were able to live a life outside of the Family, made it possible for me to survive.”

  Jamie shook his head as if to argue with me but I quickly stopped him. “Don’t,” I said with sternness. “Don’t blame yourself for anything. I’m fucking proud of you, kid. You were handed a shit deal. Most people would’ve crumbled but you didn’t. There’s a strength in you that I don’t have. And it’s because of that strength that I’m here today.” I gave him another meaningful look. “You better fucking believe it.”

  Jamie pressed his lips, clearly torn between feeling guilt and relief.

  I stared at him before tousling his hair. Jamie looked up in surprise, his blonde hair messy and scattered.

  I smiled. “I’m glad I’m here too,” I said. I had never thought the day would come. I had never thought I would be able to live a life free of Roy’s shadow. But here I was. I had Jamie. I had Halle. It was too perfect.

  And with every fiber of my being, I intended to keep it this way. We had all suffered enough. I would make sure to keep them both safe and happy. We had a chance now to live in the light after a lifetime of darkness. There was no way I was going to let anyone take that away from us.

  “I’m glad we’re all together,” I said, putting words to my thoughts.

  Jamie smiled, his blue eyes shining brightly. “Me too.”

  Chapter Three

  Halle

  “I can’t believe someone who has never even seen a local theater production, let alone a Broadway show, has now seen three West End productions!” I crowed in triumph.

  Marco laughed as he wrapped his arm comfortably around my waist.

  In the cool evening night, we walked down the quiet street towards home.

  “And you’d think after the third time, you’d stop bouncing in your seat like that,” Marco chided me in mock sternness. “I’m pretty sure the people behind us weren’t too happy.”

  “Well they should’ve been bouncing too!” I argued. “That was such a good show! How can anyone just sit still watching it?”

  Life was full of surprises but Marco Desmond was even fuller. I would never have guessed that the notorious Desmond Mafia hitman would want to see live theater. It was weird to think of Marco sitting through a production of the Sound of Music. Almost laughable. In fact, when I had imagined the idea I had actually laughed out loud in the shower.

  But when I saw an ad for a new play opening on the West End, I had asked casually if Marco would want to see it as well. I had asked expecting him to shoot down the idea and instead suggesting I take Jamie.

  But to my complete surprise, Marco had agreed.

  Walking out of the theater after our first play, I had been even more surprised by Marco’s thoughts on it. He spoke intelligently and keenly of the play’s premise and its execution. He spoke in a way that showed me how well read he was and how incredibly fast he was.

  “I thought you were just a mobster,” I had said in a stunned voice after his critique.

  Marco had looked down at me, flashing me one of his brilliant smiles that always made my heart skip a beat. His dark eyes glittered in amusement. “And I thought you were just an accountant.”

  Then we had gone to see a musical.

  And then two weeks after that, he had come home with tickets to another play.

  Yes, life in the last few months had been terrifying, stressful, and dangerous. But for what I finally had now, there was nothing I would trade my experiences for. It was all worth it to get to this little piece of heaven.

  Reaching the front door, I pulled out the key for Marco. “You know, I was thinking, if that director really wants to make that play a success he should’ve—”

  I stopped.

  Marco had taken the key and opened the door but as soon as he had turned the doorknob, he had paused, his back frozen still. His hand still on the knob, the door was open only a fractional inch.

  Through the small crack, I could see a faint light. Had we left the lights on? We normally didn’t. Had I forgotten?

  “Marco,” I started.

  But before I could say anymore, his hand reached out and shuffled me behind him. His arm was extended behind him, shielding me in a protective manner.

  I could feel the hairs on my neck rising. What was going on? Why wasn’t he going in?

  “Mar—” I tried again in a whisper when an unfamiliar voice cut me off.

  “You might as well come on in,” a British voice called out from the inside of our home. Immediately I felt a ripple of fear course through me. “It’s bad manners to linger in doorways, even if those doorways are your own.”

  Marco’s spine straightened at the voice. Even though I was standing behind him, I could tell he was weighing his options. But even I knew whoever was inside had the drop on us. Who knew how many were inside?

  I looked over my shoulder. Or outside?

  Marco straightened up and then reached behind him without looking for my hand, pulling me close.

  We were going in.

  Holding on tight to his hand, we cautiously stepped through the doorway. Marco kept me behind him, making sure his body was covering mine.

  The main entry was dark just like we had left it but there was a light coming from the living room. Slowly, we headed towards the soft light.

  “Ah, it’s been awhile, Marco,” the voice said in greeting as we reached the entryway of the living room.

  Marco kept me firmly behind him so it was hard to look around his broad back to see who was speaking. I almost didn’t want to see. But I had to know who had broken into our house, killing the charm of the night we had been enjoying.

  Peeking through a gap in his elbow, I saw a man sitting in one of the upholstered chairs.

  Instantly I thought of a viper. A snake.

  There was an immediate vibe of hunter from the man. But it wasn’t just any kind of hunter. It was a calculating hunter. It was a hunter who preyed from the shadows. It was a hunter that stung with poison. That killed from afar.

  Although he was sitting down, I could tell he was tall.
He looked like he would be as tall as Marco. His coloring was almost similar. Dressed in all dark dress pants and shirt with gleaming black shoes with his legs casually crossed, it only accentuated his long dark hair that fell in waves. Although he was leaner than Marco, I could tell by his broad shoulders and the way he sat that he had a physique that was probably no less impressive.

  The only thing of color on him was his bright, jewel green eyes.

  And they were currently pinned on Marco.

  A small smile curled the corner of the man’s mouth. “Glad to see me, I hope?”

  I could feel and see Marco’s shoulders tense and his arms bulge as he fisted his hands. Who was this man? Did he really know Marco? It certainly sounded like he did.