KYLE: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 4)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I had to work to push that part of me away before it grew out of control.

  “The shoes should be in the bottom of the box,” he announced, turning away from me and heading out the door, sort of dismissing me as if I was nothing more than an accessory. “We should get going.”

  And I did feel dismissed. Like I didn’t matter.

  I whispered a few choice words under my breath that I didn’t normally indulge as I dragged myself back to the bed to search the box for shoes. They were tucked into the bottom, blue pumps that matched the dress almost perfectly. I slid them on, not surprised to discover they fit perfectly. They raised me up a good two inches, high enough that I might actually come to Kyle’s shoulder when we stood side by side. That was another thing about him. He was super tall. At five foot three, most of my dates were taller than I was, but Kyle towered over me. He had to be six foot, at least. Maybe more. Another plus in the masculine column.

  I walked out into the sitting room to find him studying his cell phone as he waited for me. He didn’t even look up as I came into the room.

  “Ready?”

  He didn’t wait for my answer. He slipped the phone into an inside pocket of his jacket and opened the door, moving to the side as he watched me walk through.

  “We’ll have to put on a show,” he said as he pressed his hand to my back and guided me through the hallway. “People need to believe this is real, that we’re deeply in love, and that we aren’t trying to figure out a way to get out of this as soon as possible.”

  “I’d actually appreciate that.”

  “Yeah?”

  “We’re married now. My church doesn’t believe in temporary marriages like most people do these days. Once you make that promise to someone, you can’t just walk away from it unless a priest tells you it’s okay.”

  We stepped onto the elevator, and he jammed his finger onto the appropriate button, then turned to me, curiosity burning in his eyes.

  “So, if we couldn’t get a proper annulment, you would refuse a divorce?”

  I tried to look him in the eye, but I wasn’t good at lying. My eyes fell to the floor as I uttered a quiet, “Yes.”

  “Well, that’s good to know. I’ll get in touch with my lawyer as quickly as possible.”

  “What about your dad?”

  He shrugged. “Contacting a lawyer doesn’t mean anything until things are put in motion. We’ll decide how fast to move on this after talking to him.”

  “Okay.”

  “But, until then, we have to convince people this is genuine. I don’t want any rumors swirling around that might hurt my family.”

  “Of course. Neither do I.”

  He touched my chin with the tip of his finger, forcing me to look up at him. When our eyes met, he stepped closer into me.

  “Maybe we should practice, just to make sure we have the proper chemistry.”

  I opened my lips to protest, but then he was just there, his lips brushing against mine with a gentleness I’m not sure I would have associated with him. He seemed like the kind of guy who’d just as soon push a woman against the wall and steal what he wanted rather than taking his time and waiting for her to offer it up to him. But he was being patient, waiting for me to respond. I hesitated, but then I moved into him, taking a small grip of his jacket, and returning the kiss with just a bit of interest. His lips were softer than I’d expected them to be. And warm. His breath was like fire against my cool skin. And when his tongue touched the corner of my mouth, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with it. I panicked a little, pulling back, even as I was really getting into his touch.

  “Where are you going?” he asked in a deeper, huskier voice as he came after me, trapping me against the back wall of the elevator.

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize. That was actually quite nice.”

  He pushed a stray hair out of my face, tipping my chin up toward him again. He brushed his lips against my bottom lip, then slid them slowly over the side of my mouth, down along my chin. I sighed when his lips grazed my throat, moving slowly down over my raging pulse. I wanted to push him away, but I also wanted to draw him in closer. Twenty-three years of pushing men away, waiting for that one guy who was enough like my daddy to win my heart, was ingrained awfully deep. But it felt so good! If the touches of all men were like this, I could understand why so many of my girlfriends lost their way so quickly after taking the purity pledge.

  I wrapped my hands in the lapels of his jacket and drew him closer for a long moment as a sigh slipped from between my lips. He nibbled just a little along the outer edge of my throat, then he groaned as he pressed his face against my shoulder.

  He pulled away, and the elevator door opened. I wasn’t sure which happened first and which motivated the other. But my head was spinning as he took my hand and led the way out into the corridor.

  Mickey was waiting for us outside the banquet hall doors.

  “Perfect timing!” He came over to us, took Kyle’s face between his hands, and kissed his cheeks like he was a child being greeted by a grandparent. Then he turned to me, a cloud rushing over his eyes as he bent to kiss the center of my forehead. “You make such a lovely couple.”

  Kyle drew me against his side, tugging me to him. “I think so.”

  Surprise widened Mickey’s eyes briefly, but then he smiled. “So, come inside. They’ve got quite a party prepared for you.”

  Kyle led the way, urging me to stay beside him with his arm wrapped tight around me. There was silence in the banquet hall as we walked in. Then the crowd burst into applause, some people calling out my, or Kyle’s, name. I caught sight of Joy right at the front of the room. She was clapping and smiling, but the smile didn’t make it all the way up to her eyes. Some of the other girls were staring daggers at me even as they clapped for us. There was jealousy so thick in this room that I could feel it wrapping itself around me like a cloak.

  “Smile,” Kyle whispered against my ear.

  “Congratulations!” Joy approached us, a big smile on her lips as she held her hands out to me. “I can’t believe you’re a married woman now!”

  “Thank you.” I stepped into her embrace, wondering if I’d misread her face. But I knew the truth when she whispered into my ear, “You must be fucking good in bed!”

  I glanced at her, but she was already moving on, wrapping her arms around Kyle’s neck and whispering something in his ear that made him laugh. Then they both looked at me before she moved on and another of the waitresses came up to congratulate us.

  I was so aware of the anger and the disbelief in this room that I wished I was anywhere else. But then music began to play and champagne flowed. A few dancers from the strip club came in and did a performance—both male and female performers—so close to the table where they sat Kyle and me that I thought the blush would become permanent on my face. But then Kyle slid his arm around my shoulders and drew me close to him.

  “A bachelor and bachelorette party all mixed up with a wedding reception. What a brilliant idea!”

  He kissed my jaw, pulling me so close that I was practically sitting in his lap. He was free with his hands, too, sliding one over my bare shoulder and along the side of my throat. I’d never been touched that way in public. I didn’t know how to respond. But then he kissed my temple and I moved into him, turning so that our lips just barely brushed. It was nice. Comforting, somehow.

  He drank fairly heavily, downing glass after glass of champagne that was offered to him. I didn’t drink more than half a glass, but I could still feel the warmth of it growing in my belly. I wasn’t much of a drinker; I had never really wanted to drink. But this seemed to be one of those occasions when it was practically required.

  Once, when I turned to ask him a question, I caught him staring at one of the girls across the room. I followed his gaze and saw the girl smile, nodding as though they’d just made some sort of agreement.

  He didn’t want to be here. I knew that. But did he really have to mak
e a fool out of me after everything he’d made me promise in the elevator?

  Chapter 4

  Kyle

  I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want this woman sitting beside me, with all these other beautiful women staring at me and offering me things I would have had to work for before I had a gold band on my finger. I shouldn’t have come here; I shouldn’t have gotten myself wrapped up in this mess. I just wished I understood how I got into this mess in the first place.

  I still didn’t remember a second of my wedding night. And I was glad—on the one hand—that I didn’t. I’d never wanted to get married; I’d never wanted to be tied down in such a way. Why would I want to remember the moment I agreed to such a prison sentence? But, on the other hand, I needed to know what the fuck was going on here.

  Was this part of the mess that the family had been experiencing? Brianna’s kidnapping? Pops’ arrest? The death of Stacy’s fiancé and the hit she took out on Killian?

  I didn’t understand how it could be a part of all that, but I also wouldn’t be surprised. Someone was messing with all of our lives in order to bring down Pops. A quickie wedding in Las Vegas to a girl I knew nothing about? Then a quickie divorce? That wouldn’t look good for Pops. And it certainly wouldn’t look good for MCorp. And it would keep me away from Jack, keep me from being there when he needed protection.

  Was that what this was all about? Was someone trying to set up Jack and that person needed me out of the way? But what could that have to do with bringing Pops down?

  None of it really made much sense to me. But it hadn’t made much sense before this, either.

  At least she was a beautiful woman.

  I drew Amelia out onto the dance floor and pulled her into my arms. She fit there quite well despite her deficit of height. She smiled up at me as I dropped her into a dip and lifted her back up against my chest. She didn’t have much experience with men. The way she acted when I kissed her in the elevator, the way she blushed when I pulled her close, it was pretty obvious. Maybe her traditional Catholic upbringing had kept her from the same sort of escapades that got me into trouble more often than not when I was in high school and college.

  She wasn’t like any girl I’d ever been with. I liked tall women, women with lots of experience, women who fit differently in my arms and who could handle it when I wanted to get a little frisky in bed. I liked women who were just as wild as I was, who liked to experiment. I’d never wanted a virgin, a girl who didn’t even know what a blowjob was. What kind of life would that be, being tied down to someone who had no idea of what fun really was?

  Yet, here I was with this little slip of a girl who made my cock hard with just a look.

  Holding her in my arms was like holding one of those precious china cups Abigail kept in that special cabinet in the dining room. I was afraid I’d break her, but I was so fascinated by her curves and the silkiness of her skin that I couldn’t let her go. I wanted to pull her closer, wanted to bury my fingers in her hair, wanted to bury more than that inside of her. But there was this wall that came up each time she looked at me that I couldn’t quite surmount.

  That was another thing that confused me. I woke with her in my bed this morning. She was naked as the day she was born. But I was pretty sure, now that I’d had time to think about it, that nothing had happened between us. Or, if it had, we hadn’t used a condom—I couldn’t find one in the trashcan beside the bed—and I couldn’t remember a second of it. You’d think if I’d slept with a girl as pretty as this one, I’d at least remember if it was good or not.

  I lifted her chin, pulled her attention away from the women who were staring daggers at her, and kissed her. Our lips barely brushed, but it might as well have been the deepest, most passionate kiss I’d ever experienced. There was something about the hesitation in her touch, the taste of her lips, that was threatening to drive me crazy. I kissed her again, snagging her bottom lip between my teeth. She moaned softly, moving so close to me that I could feel her full breasts against my chest, her hips brushing mine. Another movement and she’d be fully aware of just how aroused she made me.

  I looked around the room, aware that we were the center of attention. That wasn’t exactly anything new for me, but the reason why was. There were dark looks in the eyes of many of the women, particularly the ones I’d bedded in my visits before this one. But there was envy in a lot of the women’s eyes, too. They all thought I was this great catch and, maybe financially, I was. But not in any other avenue. I was bad at relationships. I couldn’t be faithful no matter how hard I tried. Even tonight I found my mind wandering to these beautiful ladies, my thoughts pondering the fun we could have if I could just ditch the wife quickly enough.

  You see? Only twenty-four hours and I was already looking for escape.

  I’d never felt like I fit in anywhere, so I’d never tried. Even with the Callahans—the snow white, Irish Callahans—I stuck out. My biological mother was a redhead like Pops, but my biological father was a bit of a mystery. I’d been told he was black and Pilipino, but I’d also been told he was black and Japanese. I didn’t know for sure because he apparently didn’t hang around long enough to get to know anyone, including my biological mother. So I stuck out among even the people who took me in and made me a part of their family.

  If I didn’t fit in, why should I try to stick around?

  I spun Amelia around and pulled her against me again, catching her just before she would have slammed into my chest. She gasped, but then she looked up at me and there was such amusement in her eyes that they seemed to dance. I could get lost in those eyes.

  I kissed the tip of her nose, then spun her around again. This time she laughed when I caught her quite effortlessly. Then I dipped her and we were both laughing.

  This was okay. I might be able to get used to this.

  We danced for a long while, then wandered the room, drinking as much champagne as I could grab off the passing trays, laughing at lame jokes and groaning at the cheesy ones. Amelia stayed at my side, her finger hooked in the waistband of my slacks as if she belonged there. I moved away a few times, but each time I could feel her watching me, waiting for me to come back. Expectation. That was what I couldn’t stand about relationships. The woman always had this expectation that I would act in a certain way and behave in ways that she never voiced but always assumed I’d understand. It was bullshit, someone expecting you to act in a certain way just because you’re in a relationship. I couldn’t do that. Wouldn’t do that.

  My mother had always expected me to read her mind. If I didn’t, I got a beating. Not that I couldn’t handle it—the woman was so drunk most of the time that it didn’t really hurt. My mother was a complicated woman. She loved me—I never doubted that—but she hated me, too. There was something about the man who fathered me that she saw in me and couldn’t stand to look at. And she took it out on me in so many ways…it was almost a relief when she…but that’s another story.

  I didn’t want to be married because I didn’t want to be at the mercy of another woman. It was as simple as that.

  So when Amelia looked at me, expecting me to come back to her side, it made me want to run back to Boston and leave all this bullshit behind me. If not for my Pops’ and for the fact that she wouldn’t give me a divorce—even if I asked—I would have been gone on the first flight this morning.

  Like a good boy, I moved up behind her each time I was expected to. And I was rewarded by the feel of her tight, sexy body pressed back against mine. There were some benefits to this commitment thing.

  “It’s late,” she whispered to me at one point. “Shouldn’t we head upstairs?”

  I brushed my lips over her temple. “If that’s what you want.”

  Mickey, who’d been watching us closely all evening, came over.

  “Leaving?”

  I shrugged. “The missus is tired.”

  Mickey’s eyes flashed to Amelia, a strange light coming into them briefly, before he focused on me again. “Ar
e you sticking around the hotel a while longer?”

  “I don’t know. Probably. Why?”

  He glanced over his shoulder at the guests who were just beginning to get into this party. When he turned back, he leaned close and said, “Ian called this morning. He said something about the Italians causing trouble back in Boston. He didn’t go into details, but it didn’t sound great.”

  I frowned. “Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?”

  “I didn’t want to put a dark cloud over the festivities.”

  “Did you tell Ian about this?”

  Mickey shook his head quite emphatically. “Of course not. That’s your business.”

  I studied him a second, then held out my hand and offered him a strong shake.

  “Thanks, Mick.”

  I turned Amelia around and guided her with a hand on her back to the elevators. The second we were alone, she pulled away, sort of slumping against the back wall.

  “That was exhausting,” she sighed.

  I stood in front of the doors, my feet planted, and my thoughts back in Boston. The Italians. I should have known that things wouldn’t just settle down. It looked like the Italians had stopped getting whatever information it was they were getting that allowed them to hit us where it hurt the most, but I guess it was just a temporary reprieve. They would need me back there if things were only half as bad as they were the last time.

  “Who are the Italians?”

  I spun around and studied my new bride. “What?”

  She straightened, aware of the tension rolling off of me like waves. “I was just…I heard what Mickey said…”

  “There’s one thing you need to learn if you’re going to insist on being my wife.” I moved closer to her, pinning her against the wall with just the nearness of my body. “You don’t hear anything that’s said between me and my associates. Unless someone is addressing you personally, you don’t need to know about it. Understand?”

  She nodded, a blush rising over her cheeks. You’d think it would be annoying, seeing that blush every time I did or said something her innocent sensibilities weren’t prepared for. But it wasn’t. I found it sort of exciting, to be completely truthful.