Ian watched her position his cock at her entrance, her damp skin kissing his. He flexed his hips, sinking easily between her lower lips. She wrapped her arms around him, driving her heels none too gently into the backs of his thighs.
What the lady wanted, the lady would have.
He braced a hand on the vanity, the other on her lower back and thrust.
Taylor’s nails dug into his shoulders and her jaw dropped open.
That was it. The face he wanted to see with her eyes rolled up and bliss on her face.
“Hold onto me, Taylor,” he said against her neck.
Her eyes opened and she stared at him, the brown gone so dark it was nearly black. He wanted to fall into them, forget where he began and she ended.
Ian moved, gliding in and out, lost in the way her pussy hugged him, the feel of her arms around his neck, her heels urging him on. She didn’t look away, and neither did he. He was a willing prisoner under whatever spell this was.
Taylor’s breath hitched and he felt her pussy hug him tighter. The feel of her sweet body fluttering around him spurred on his own orgasm.
He buried his face against her shoulder, breathing in the scent of wine, chocolate and sex.
This was different, whatever this was.
It was more than simply Taylor’s tendency to walk away from him. It went deeper than sex.
Did he like being inside of her?
Yes, but it was more than that. What, he didn’t know, and he didn’t like not knowing.
But he did know something new.
Lucchese.
He’d have to look into that.
Taylor came first, though.
She murmured words against his shoulder he couldn’t understand, her fingers stroking his back.
He’d never forget the first moment he’d laid eyes on her, sitting on that stool all by herself as though she were some sort of queen on a throne. She had...presence. And yet she didn’t seem to realize that at all. He’d been trying to decide how to approach the Snow White beauty, when she’d sent him the frothy invitation. He’d been chasing her ever since.
“Come on, I’ve got you.”
He helped her to her feet and walked her to the shower.
Ian had known she was a lightweight, but he hadn’t realized she was that much of a lightweight. If he had, he’d have stopped her around glass two. Or a very small three.
He sat Taylor on the shower bench and turned the water on, pointing the nozzle away from her while it heated up. He stripped the condom and the rest of his clothes off before getting in with her.
Fuck, he was a bastard.
Next apology would be heavier on the chocolate, less on the wine.
Taylor leaned back against the foggy glass, watching him.
“You want to wash your hair?” He held out his hand.
“Not really. I should probably have some coffee, so I don’t pass out before Stacey gets home.” She took his hand and stood, swaying a bit.
“What do you have to do for her?”
“Put her to bed.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but you look like you could use some sleep.”
“Wine does a number on me.” She chuckled and leaned against his shoulder.
“I can see that. I didn’t mean to get you drunk.”
“I didn’t know two glasses of sherry would get me drunk.”
“Two?” He peered down at her. “You damn near guzzled that whole bottle.”
“I did not.”
“You did, too.”
“Oh. Well. That would make sense why the room is spinning.”
“Let’s wash up and you go to bed.” He was too wired to sleep. His mind was picking apart this thing with Taylor, what she’d said.
“That’s not your job.”
Taylor let him turn her to face the spray. He gathered her hair behind her before adjusting the nozzle to hit her body. It was only fair, after covering her in the little bit of wine left over, that he’d help clean her off. Not that it was a bad job.
In short order, he’d soaped Taylor up and washed her down. In her inebriated state, she was less feisty, rather cuddly. He’d met this version of her before, though it’d been after two rounds of sex.
Yeah, he couldn’t think about that.
She really did need her rest.
Ian finished up his shower then dried them both off, starting with Taylor.
“I’ll set an alarm for the mornin’.” He guided her toward his bed.
“I’d appreciate that.”
Now that he understood her bright and early departures, it wouldn’t bother him.
He tucked Taylor into his bed and kissed her cheek.
There was no easy answer for what it was about her that called to him. At first, she’d been a poised, confident woman. Exactly what ticked off all his boxes. But then...something had shifted. Was it because he knew she was in trouble? Was it another factor that was uniquely Taylor? He couldn’t put his finger on it.
Ian dressed in basketball shorts and a T-shirt. Decent, he ran downstairs to wipe up the kitchen and put it back in order for Cat.
He did another walkthrough, peering into all the rooms.
The on-duty security guy was nowhere to be seen, which was about normal for George’s people. Ian had made mention of the disappearing act twice now, and all George did was shrug. Which meant it was intentional.
Ian had a bad feeling about this place, what George was up to. It was too coincidental that no one knew what the threats were about. Someone was lying. Or he’d missed something huge.
With no new leads to follow, that left him with one problem to puzzle out.
He snagged his laptop from the spare office and made sure the door was locked behind him. Armed with his best tool to uncover the truth, he returned to his room and settled in next to Taylor. She’d curled up on her side, back to him. Just in case, he turned the brightness all the way down before he got started.
She’d called herself a Lucchese Princess.
He plugged that phrase into an internet search.
Princess didn’t return much of anything, but Lucchese...
“Fuck me sideways...”
He scrolled down the first page of results.
What the hell?
Murder. Extortion. Federal investigations. Mafia. The list of attention-grabbing words got longer by the second.
He typed in Taylor Lucchese, holding his breath.
A grand total of three articles popped up, one dating back a dozen years or so.
Death of Lucchese Mafia Queen.
He clicked into the article, scanning it.
Holy shit...
Ian turned to stare at the woman lying next to him.
Ian pinged Zain with an urgent SOS, sending him the relevant names. It was early still, so Zain responded in a couple of minutes. After a few expletives, they both got down to work. Even with Taylor’s real name, there wasn’t a whole lot that popped up for her. None of it was illegal. Mostly about her education and work history, plus a record of her marriage, name change, and divorce.
Her name wasn’t Taylor Carter at all. It was Cartwright. She’d lied. To his face.
But had she really?
The moment he’d walked through those doors, she’d told him everyone under this roof was bad. She’d said that including herself. Had he simply wanted to paint himself as her hero? Believe that she was in need of saving?
Ian needed more information.
Just because Taylor was the granddaughter of some of the most notorious New York mobsters, it didn’t mean she was bad. He’d seen her with Stacey. He’d felt her kindness. That wasn’t something a person could fake. That was nature. That was something she’d been born with that couldn’t be taught. But he could no longer blindly believe that Taylor was an innocent.
Good people still did bad things.
Ciro pushed back from the desk and sighed.
They didn’t know shit. And Julia had stopped responding t
o his updates. What was going on back home?
He couldn’t focus on that. His job was here, getting his hands on the original files and Taylor. Photocopies wouldn’t do. Spreadsheets were suspect. They needed the real deal back again.
Movement in and out of the house happened through the side entry, which was covered by a fence and awning. They had a camera in the backyard, which showed them Taylor’s comings and goings with a pack of puppies and occasionally watching after a little girl, but it wasn’t enough.
Taylor was too well-guarded for them to simply slip in and get the job done.
“I’m bored,” Angelo said. He had the temperament of a petulant child, which had only become more grating as the days wore on.
“We’re going to have to get in that house,” Ciro said.
“Yes!” Angelo pumped his fist.
“It’s not going to be that easy.” Ciro slapped his file on the house and security on the desk, scowling at its thickness.
“Please, I can get in and out before anyone knows I’m there.”
“Hold that thought.” Ciro held up his hand.
He’d read a bit a while ago in one of his tech reports. Something about security concerns about a particular system... Where was it?
11.
Taylor slipped out of bed and silenced the alarm before Ian even stirred.
She stared at his broad shoulders in the darkness.
The last few days had established a routine. She’d put Stacey to bed, finish her tasks, and then crawl in bed with Ian for a little aerobic exercise before passing out.
He was so different from the men she’d dated in the past.
He didn’t know the real her.
She had feelings for Ian. Complicated ones that twined around her, choking off her resolve to run. Her way to Canada would be clear tomorrow. She just needed her next paycheck from George, and then she could hit the road.
It would be the first time she’d left someone she...she loved.
Before, it’d always been the ones she loved leaving her.
Her mother. Her husband. Her friends. They’d all left when she’d been certain they wouldn’t.
Once Ian found out the truth, he’d leave her, too.
Which was why she had to go through with her plan to flee to Canada. At least for now.
She padded out of his room and to her own, dressing by lamplight, mentally sorting through her day.
Cat had had last night off, the lucky bitch. Taylor got a couple hours to herself here and there, but no real time off. With Ian around, it didn’t matter as much because she could hide out in his room, but soon enough, his time here would be over and she would need to find her own path. If she was lucky, their exits would coincide, and people could draw their own conclusions.
Taylor checked her phone.
Still no messages from Vito.
That was beginning to worry her. They didn’t talk a ton, but they did try to check in every so often. Lately, she’d only had that weird attachment and a handful of texts to see how she was doing. No phone calls. Things at home must be heating up for him to be this busy, and she couldn’t help but feel responsible.
Julia would be able to cover up Taylor’s theft for a while, but not forever. Soon enough, the Commission would come calling for an accounting of the Lucchese books, and when that happened, Taylor would have more trouble on her hands.
Moments like these, Taylor wanted to curse her mother for sending her away to boarding school. It had preserved Taylor’s sense of humanity. She knew better than to think it was anything but intentional. Her mother had always wanted out, resented her arranged marriage. It’d made Mom desperate, and desperate people did desperate things.
Like going to the FBI.
Taylor should have learned from her mother’s mistakes, instead of repeating them. Now she had no choice but to go forward.
Ciro peered across the street, waiting and watching for some sort of sign.
Money was a powerful motivator. Find the right person and the right price and a lot could get done.
A light flashed once, twice in the upstairs window and went dark.
“That was the signal.”
Ciro sat down at the computer, tapping away.
“So, I can go now?” Angelo practically bounced on the balls of his feet.
“Not yet. I’m going to loop their security feed and cut the alarm on the exterior. That should let you get close enough. Remember, we can’t afford a bloodbath,” Ciro said.
“Fine.” Angelo sighed, more like a petulant child.
“If you can’t do it quietly—”
“I install the equipment and get out. I know.”
“You have the kit?” Ciro would prefer to do the setting up of the surveillance himself, but he had to be on hand to monitor their hack.
“Right here.”
“Good. Go.”
Ciro waited for a span of a few seconds before hitting record on his second monitor. While the house security got a loop of a quiet, dead house, he got the real thing.
Ian rolled out of bed the instant Taylor closed the door. He didn’t bother getting dressed, just opened the laptop and set it on the mattress. Instead of connecting to the house Wi-Fi, he used his phone’s mobile hotspot capability. For this virtual meeting, he wanted to be extra careful.
While the laptop chugged to life, he locked the door and put on a shirt.
The muted ding of an incoming call set his teeth on edge.
Part of him felt guilty going behind Taylor’s back like this, but he had to know what he was getting involved with first.
Ian knelt next to the bed and activated the call.
The picture that popped up was that of a younger man than Ian had expected in an office wearing a suit.
“Franco Mancini?” Ian leaned closer to the screen.
“You got him.” Franco peered at the screen. “I can barely see you.”
“I’m not supposed to be awake yet.” In truth, Ian had barely been able to sleep at all last night, knowing this chat was coming.
“I talked to our guy in New York, and he’s very interested in her whereabouts.” Franco frowned.
“Why? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I can’t talk about it.” But judging from the deep lines around Franco’s mouth he didn’t like it.
“Then what can you tell me?” Ian was desperate to know if Taylor was innocent or not.
“I started looking into her family file. The dad? Piece of work capo for the Colombo family, offed when he got too big for his britches. The mom?” Franco’s frown deepened.
“What? What about her?”
“It doesn’t... Something’s not right.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean... She died in FBI custody, along with the three agents protecting her. Do you know how often that actually happens?”
“Either someone was following Maria Lucchese, or—”
“Don’t even say it.” Franco glanced over his shoulder.
Franco came highly recommended by the Behavioral Analysis Unit they’d worked with last year. Ian could have asked Owen. His detective friend was well connected, but he hadn’t wanted to drag Owen into a personal problem if he could help it.
“How does Taylor fit into all of this?”
“As far as I can tell, she’s unconnected to the family business. Went to boarding school. Went to university in Buffalo. Every move she’s made has been to put distance between herself and her old man.”
“But?”
“But...our New York guy on this is...he’s interested in her. A lot. And I’ve heard chatter.”
“Franco, tell me somethin’.”
“I don’t like this. Any of it. There’s a record of Taylor coming into the New York office, but no report on her visit. According to the time log, she was there for over nine hours. What was she doing? Why did no one make a report of it? And if it was nothing, why all the interest in her?”
If Taylor was gui
lty of anything, why would she go to the FBI in the first place?
“Thanks, Franco. I’ll work on her, see if I can’t get her to tell me, and loop you in.”
“I’d appreciate it, man.” Franco smiled, the expression a little odd on his face.
Ian opened his mouth to speak, but a scream rent the air, distant.
He shoved to his feet and bolted for the door.
Taylor...
Taylor peered at the garbage left from last night. From the looks of it, George’s guys had come home and helped themselves to a lot of something in the fridge, then tossed the containers.
Cat would have a fit.
And the whole day would be tense.
Maybe, if Taylor took out the garbage, Cat’s bad mood wouldn’t be quite so bad...
Was it Taylor’s imagination, or was Cat a lot more irritable lately?
Better reason to take the garbage out.
Taylor gathered the two bags from the kitchen, tied them off and hauled them through the utility room into the garage.
A small, white furry thing launched itself at her shoe laces.
“No,” she groaned.
Not only was there garbage in the kitchen to deal with...someone had let the puppies out.
Taylor quickly closed the door to the house.
She picked her way over the quickly swarming pack of pooches, toward the garbage cans.
“Oh, no, guys.”
Was this how today was going to go?
Taylor didn’t know how it was possible the pint-sized dogs had turned over a garbage can, but there it was, strewn across the back of the garage.
She rolled her eyes and stared at the ceiling, counting to ten while at least three of the puppies gnawed on her pant legs. Calm escaped her, leaving her to put the garbage bin to rights and toss the kitchen bags in to hopefully weigh the cans down. Then she turned to survey the garage.
George’s car was against the wine rack shelves, where it sat pristine and ready, waiting for him. He’d had a mini wine room built up here because, as the story went, the basement was a never-ending source of frustration and repair. In reality, they all knew George kept shipments down there. Of what, Taylor had no desire to know. It was one of many things she pretended ignorance about.
Alpha Prince (Twisted Royals, #1) Page 10
