Among the Flames (Kisses and Crimes Book 3)

by Natalie E. Wrye

  Table of Contents

  Prologue

  FOOL’S GOLD PROLOGUE

  Contacting Me

  About Me

  You Sent Me Flying

  New Sparks

  Trial by Fire

  Fanning the Flames

  A Slow Burn

  Crash and Burn

  Mr. Magic

  What is it about Men

  Wake up Alone

  Back to Black

  Tears Dry on their Own

  Some Unholy War

  Help Yourself

  Hey Little Rich Girl

  Know You Now

  Me & Mr. Jones

  Close to the Front

  Stronger than Me

  Best Friends, Right?

  Between the Cheats

  Like Smoke

  He Can Only Hold Her

  Body and Soul

  ABOUT

  BLINDSIDED

  STRANGE DEVOTION

  STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED

  AN ADDITIONAL NOTE

  NATALIE E. WRYE

  Copyright © 2017 by Natalie E. Wrye.

  This novel is an original work. It is a fictional writing, a work entirely derived from the author’s imagination. All characters and events are entirely fictional and not based in fact, nor based on any real person(s) living or deceased. Any resemblance or similarity to any real person(s), alive or dead, or event is purely and clearly coincidental. This book contains adult language and in some instances coarse language and, due to its content, should not be viewed by children.

  All Rights Reserved.

  No part of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage or retrieval system without the written permission of the author (except for the use of brief quotations in a book review).

  Cover Design:

  Nicole Williams, Vivid Dreams Book Design

  http://www.vividdreamsbookdesign.com

  CONTACTING ME

  AMONG THE FLAMES is a Sexy Action Suspense and the third stand-alone in the Kisses and Crimes series.

  If you love lowering your inhibitions and letting your hair down for a wild ride, this book is for you.

  And if you’re looking for more Kisses and Crimes, then you’ll LOVE the first in this series.

  FOOL’S GOLD is #KissesandCrimesONE and is available on Amazon now.

  If you’re interested in reading more, join my Reader Roundtable or FB group to get special and exclusive updates and freebies.

  If you’d like a look at my other books on Amazon or Goodreads, please feel free to stop by! Please feel free to leave a review while you’re there, too!

  If you’d like to chat me up any time, g’head and e-mail me at nataliewrites@nataliewrye.com OR leave a comment on NatalieWrye.com OR on my Facebook.

  ABOUT

  I thought I left Giovanni DeSalt in the ashes of my old life.

  But now he’s back—darker and more desirable. And he’s making me an offer I can’t possibly refuse.

  ***

  Broke and ousted from her secretary job, Sienna Santiago is in need of a new gig. And fast.

  Her biggest issue?

  Her new boss is a liar, a possible murderer… and the most mysterious political fixer in the District of Columbia.

  Known for his many faces and undisclosed places, Giovanni DeSalt is the dirtiest golden boy of D.C... and Sienna is under his mercy, wrangled in as his new employee.

  But when the reemergence of a powerful political corruption rocks their little district, Sienna and Giovanni both need something to believe in amidst their hotbed of lies.

  They never guessed it would be each other.

  But will their newfound trust be enough to keep their forbidden flame--and, more importantly, themselves--alive?

  Table of Contents

  Contacting Me

  About Me

  Prologue

  You Sent Me Flying

  New Sparks

  Trial by Fire

  Fanning the Flames

  A Slow Burn

  Crash and Burn

  Mr. Magic

  What is it about Men

  Wake up Alone

  Back to Black

  Tears Dry on their Own

  Some Unholy War

  Help Yourself

  Hey Little Rich Girl

  Know You Now

  Me & Mr. Jones

  Close to the Front

  Stronger than Me

  Best Friends, Right?

  Between the Cheats

  Like Smoke

  He Can Only Hold Her

  Body and Soul

  * * *

  FOOL’S GOLD

  ABOUT

  PROLOGUE

  BLINDSIDED

  STRANGE DEVOTION

  STRANGER THINGS HAVE HAPPENED

  * * *

  AN ADDITIONAL NOTE

  Prologue

  GIOVANNI

  Seven goddamned days.

  The first con I’d ever pulled was on a woman I’d only known for seven goddamned days. It was that easy.

  Her name was Morgan Daniels.

  I couldn’t forget her face if I wanted to. I damn sure couldn’t forget her smell, and it was only after everything was over that I realized how unusual it was.

  That first deception.

  Probably because it wasn’t supposed to be a deception. Only a seduction… Such was the dark magic of my first full week in America.

  Maybe I remembered her so well because she was the first. Maybe because I was nervous… Or maybe because after I completed the con, it was like taking a hit of a drug I couldn’t get enough of—a whiff of the impossible.

  Maybe I remembered her because it was coming off one of the lowest moments of my life, or maybe I remembered Morgan Daniels because of the reason the con started in the first place—because of that little white lie. I told one fib to get out of trouble and it changed the course of my life as a young, well-traveled man, placing me seventy miles an hour on the road to debauchery and decadence.

  That little white lie led to my destruction, gutting the seventeen-year-old runaway I’d been to the core. I was only a kid, a teen. But in that kid’s place, a man was built—a man who learned that all anyone in the world wanted to do was take—take and give nothing back. So, I learned to take with the best of them, learned how to use my persuasive power—and the right smile—to push and pull at people’s emotions, to make them see whatever it was I wanted them to see.

  I wasn’t Giovanni DeSalt anymore… I was Mr. Nobody.

  But after seven days, Mr. Nobody still had no home and a hungry stomach and I was forced to spend my nights sleeping in the pews of a church, grateful to be free of my stepfather’s fists.

  Until Morgan Daniels came along.

  Daughter of the church’s pastor, devil in a blue dress, she taught me what it meant to grab a piece of the American dream, how to schmooze, sex and charm my way into wealth and happiness.

  And I wanted it.

  I wanted to be at the center of it all, to belong. But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t. Not for long, anyway.

  My American dream had turned into a nightmare once I realized that true health and wealth were only reserved for the lucky few, and even then you wouldn’t last long if you didn’t have the history within those millionaire mansions. I wasn’t a member of their coveted “clubs.” And as a stranger I was relegated to the outskirts, shifted to the shadows where I watched, listened and learned. Those little lessons wouldn’t come until later. For now, for those first seven days, I was still hers—wet be
hind the ears and completely naïve, thinking more with my dick than my head.

  Morgan Daniels was my savior… and even when a choir boy, Christopher, caught onto the pastor’s precious daughter’s interest in me and warned me against her sweet smiles and even sweeter perfume, I had to admit that I hadn’t listened.

  I hadn’t paid much attention to Christopher’s insults and insinuations about the young Miss Daniels. I hadn’t paid attention to his comments about her “smelling like a baby prostitute” and what they really meant. I don’t know that I cared or noticed.

  At least, not until the moment right before I was going to fuck her.

  And I wondered why I hadn’t bothered to notice any of it before. She smelled the way I imagined Tinkerbell’s skanky twin might. Like the “walk of shame” combined with a shit-ton of sugar.

  Twice the glitter. None of the innocence.

  The half-girl/half-woman between my legs appeared to be the very epitome of that. But there was nothing “innocent” about the dirty look in her eyes as she ogled me on her “never-worked-a-day-in-her-life” knees.

  She climbed up my body, fixing me with a look that said “Fuck me” as she rose, the pink tinge on her cheeks making me think of a naughty little cherub.

  She was just as blonde as one… with a body ten times as grown. Pastor Stanley’s only daughter whispered in my ear.

  “Oh my God, Daddy… you’re so huge. I never would have guessed you’d be this big.”

  I wanted to smirk. “Blame my jeans for hiding the second fact. Blame the other genes for the first.”

  “I’ve been wanting to put my mouth on you since the first time I saw you in your pew,” she hissed. “Sitting there, looking so serious. I should have known you’d be better in the flesh. Mister Stern Face. Mister Big Cock. Daddy, I’m going to make you come so hard. I’m going to put a smile on that serious, sullen face of yours.” She looked down at my hanging cock that’d just been in her mouth. “It’s just… you’re so big. I have to take my time.” She licked her lips. “My mouth isn’t big enough to take it all in.”

  I had to laugh.

  Her mouth was certainly big enough to talk as much as she did, and with all the bravado she’d brought to me this morning when she dragged me into her father’s office, trying to tease me with what lay under her silk skirt, I knew she’d make good on it.

  She sure made good on the liberal application of her perfume. It was like taking a whiff of unicorn piss and every time she drew near, I had to remind myself to hold my breath.

  If I didn’t, I’d never be able to go through with it. But I didn’t care. I convinced myself that I really liked her—maybe even loved her. At the moment, Morgan Daniels was quite literally my meal ticket… as long as I made myself hers.

  I prepared to make a feast out of her body, turning her around, bending her over her father’s desk and pushing her fragrant, glittered hair and body away from mine. Brushing against the back of her cute little ass, I grabbed my dick with one fist, pumping until I was rock hard.

  I flipped the fabric of her skirt up and when she squealed, I prepared to grab the thin rubber sheath in my back pocket, shielding myself with it. I stared at the cabinet with the files I wanted, readying my body to wreck the pastor’s daughter’s pretty pussy… when I hesitated.

  I didn’t know if I could do it… and the hesitation was my saving grace. I stepped back, putting my shit back together. My dick was already zipped back in my trousers when Pastor Daniels came stumbling through the closed door, his eyes half-wild and searching.

  Morgan was shocked, to the say the least. My dick, just rock hard, wilted like a kid hearing “no” in a candy store. My little blonde unicorn called out in shock. “Daddy!”

  I didn’t know which man in the room she was talking to, but I knew which one was supposed to respond. I kept quiet, turning still as stone. Technically, I hadn’t been caught in the act, but the guilt was written on the walls, and as I tried to erase any emotion from my face, Daddy Daniels looked at me as if he was already expecting what he’d found.

  When his stare slanted, I was sure that I’d been dimed out.

  That fucking choir boy.

  Luckily, I was also sure of one other thing: I wasn’t going hungry again. Ever again. So, I did what I was starting to do best…

  Lie.

  And because of that lie, I was practically deacon of that church by the end of the week, and Christopher, for all of his “help,” was quietly removed from the house of worship while I looked on and smiled.

  It was the beginning of the end.

  You Sent Me Flying

  Eleven years later…

  GIOVANNI

  Damn. I wanted that drink.

  I wasn’t the biggest fan of champagne, per se, but even I knew that when you were served a bottle of Salon Blanc de Blancs 1997, you didn’t waste that shit… and you certainly didn’t throw it at people’s heads…

  Especially mine.

  Which is exactly what one of the groomsmen had just done.

  I never liked weddings. Engagement parties were just as bad. But I’d never been to an engagement party as crazy as this.

  Then again, I’d never had a “bride-to-be” blowing me in the dance hall’s fancy fucking bathroom. And I damned sure never had the groom-to-be try to kill me while she was doing it, no less, in the middle of his own fucking party.

  I ducked… just as another one of his drunken fists came hurtling in my direction, just missing me and smashing squarely into the picture frame hanging beside me.

  I saw my reflection—the crazy scene around me, the beaten bridegroom and his groomsmen laid out before me—in that picture frame, and I almost lost it.

  But before I could, somebody chucked a piece of white china right past my earlobe. Flying shards exploded overhead just as the best man—now recovered, tackled me like a wrestling dummy, his head slamming into my abdomen, propelling my body backwards, sending me sailing into the hallway wall with a shuddering thud.

  My head hit with a crushing blow.

  Ears ringing, my skin still stinging, the rest of my body bounced off the dry wall, knocking the Picasso knock-offs to the floor as the groom’s best friend and I came tumbling down—cradle and all, on the Buena Vista Country Club’s extravagant cream-colored carpet. I held onto my head full of fake red hair as we hit the floor. An array of stars danced before my eyes and as I scrambled to my feet, one dangling colored contact threatening to fall from my lashes.

  My elaborate façade was falling apart piece by piece, barely hanging on.

  As was my cock, still smeared with bright red lipstick, as the engagement party guests ogled me, gasping and gaping from their elegantly decorated corners.

  I closed my eyes, regrouping, taking a deep breath before slamming a hard elbow onto the last groomsman’s burly back, knocking him down for good. I rolled away from him, staggering to my feet with my dick dangling lower than my loosely hanging cummerbund.

  Below it, actually. Much lower…

  And hell, I wasn’t ashamed. I smiled, despite the blood smeared across the top of my teeth. I licked them clean. Taking a bow at the waist.

  “Thank you all for the hospitality. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ll see myself…” I looked down. “And my mini-me out the door.” I lingered near the floor before rising again. “Thank you, and good night.”

  With that, the rest of the battered groomsmen chased me out the door, rushing like a football team’s defensive line, threatening to finish a job they couldn’t even start in the first place.

  Half-drunk, my dick still swinging out of my pants, I dragged my ass out of Buena Vista beneath the pixie lights strung below the darkening sky. Thunder rolled in the distance, and the evening skies opened up, pouring a bucket of rain over my body as I tumbled headfirst, rolling with an exhausted sigh into the sleek Jaguar waiting for me.

  The door behind me closed. My driver looked back at me as he climbed into his seat, his expression grim, his dark eyes
deeper than the stormy night sky. He returned those eyes to the road with a deepening sigh.

  “You did it again, didn’t you?” He shook his greying head. “Fuck me…”

  I stared out the window at the suddenly falling rain, adjusting my wig. “Actually, I preferred fucking the soon-to-be Mrs. Townsend, Grimm… but thanks for the offer.”

  He blew out a breath. “You’re a sick man, sir…”

  “The sickest. But that doctor from the other day really did a good job, fixing everything that was wrong with my head.”

  He met my eyes in the rearview. “She was a therapist, boss. I’m pretty sure she wasn’t supposed to fix that head.”

  I run a thumb across my mustache. “She was also just another job for me, Grimm. As was this.”

  Grimm squinted. “Job… or blowjob, sir?”

  I looked back at him in the mirror, narrowing my eyes. “Both. And isn’t one head just as important as the other…?”

  “Maybe…” he exhaled. He pulled off onto a side street. “But ya gotta admit… that’s a hell of a high-price for a ‘head examination.”

  My reply was a grin. “I see where you’re going with this, old man. Technically, I paid for her to fuck with my head. The actual fucking was on the house.”

  Well, more so on her reclining leather seat… but I wasn’t going to share any of that with grumpy old Grimm. And just as we pulled out of the country club parking lot, my disposable little black cell phone rang. Just as I expected.

  I picked it up on the second ring.

  “Is it done?” The tone of the voice on the other line told me it was expecting nothing less.

  “Yes, Mr. Townsend,” I shot back. Just as gruff. “It’s done. The wedding is officially blown.” And technically, so was I.