by Shannyn Leah
Izzy said nothing, but the lust in her eyes spoke volumes.
He dropped his hand and took a sip of the girly drink she’d made him. “Tell me what you’re afraid of in those files. Or is it the basement?”
“The files.” She groaned before sipping her drink. “Files, files, files.”
“Enlighten me.”
“Why?”
“Because I care and when I’m gone I can’t help you find the answers.”
She frowned. “It’s a lot. Both what’s in the files and what’s in the basement.”
“Break it down for me.”
She looked at the blue swirl in her glass, biting down on her lower lip. “I’m afraid of what I will find in the files about the people I know, the families of peers I went to school with, business owners I interact with at galas and parties.”
“Their discrepancies?”
“A little.” She looked up at him. “More so, if I acknowledge their secrets, dirty deeds and the things Robert held over them, how can I face them? How have they faced me or anyone in my family up to this moment? They should hate us. Loathe us. Likely, they do. I don’t think I want to know who’s carrying a grudge against me. Reading the files of people from different cities and provinces with you is no comparison to reading about people I know.”
She paused to slug back half her drink, setting the glass on the counter with a thud. He caught her hands and pulled them to his lap, rubbing his thumbs over her knuckles. Her fingers played with his for a long moment. Without looking at him she said, “These files have consumed my family. Since they’ve been discovered they’ve become staple supper conversation. My family holds meetings to discuss these files and, sometimes, it’s like they don’t even realize these are people’s lives.”
She sighed and finally looked up at him with sad and confused eyes. “I know they’re trying to fix lives Robert destroyed, but, still, the amount of energy put into these files and some of the bad outcomes...well...it scares me.”
“It should scare you.”
“You need to practice your consoling efforts. They’re terrible.”
He squeezed her hands. “If none of those things scared you, you would be heartless. I’ve seen heartless. I was heartless. And that’s more terrifying.”
“You’re not heartless. Not now, anyway.”
“Then listen to me when I tell you that knowing what you’re up against might be scary, but it could be what saves your life. The files I’m sorting are insurance Robert and your grandfather used to keep them and your family safe from their enemies. Robert hid the online gambling, shuffling the money to offshore accounts.”
“Gambling?”
“It’s not uncommon in mafia families. There’s less of a risk getting caught than traditional mafia drug lords and weapons dealing.”
“Mafia?”
Gunner frowned. “Don’t you know that you come from a long line of Caliendo mafia?”
“No. Are you serious?”
“This is why you need to be prepared. You should know what you’ve been exposed to whether knowingly or not. Although online gambling is easier than smuggling drugs and weapons, it doesn’t mean it comes with less dangers or threats and it certainly doesn’t mean Robert is out; dead or alive.”
Gunner scrubbed his hands over his face. “In fact, he was one scary, threatening son of a bitch.”
Izzy jumped back.
“Sorry.”
She pulled his shirt tighter around herself. “Continue.” Her soft voice made him want to abandon the conversation and take her back to her suite and make her purr instead. “Please.”
Damn it.
“The reports he has on people would imprison them for life, or have them chased down by townspeople and stoned to death. It’s serious. Very serious. Personally, I don’t think your dad should have contacted Anton to look through them. Me or him.” He couldn’t believe he’d said that. Her horror-stricken face seconded that. “The files are your protection and although I trust Anton with my life, who else has your family carelessly exposed them to?”
“I don’t think anyone.”
“Good. They were locked up and deals were made to keep all of you safe. You’ve unlocked your safety net.”
“You think we’re in immediate danger?”
“No, but if you don’t watch the next moves, you could end up there.”
“Did you tell Marc this?”
Gunner shook his head. “It’s not my place. Anton’s aware and I’m sure he will talk to Marc and Carl about the discoveries. It might be hard to believe, but some of the files are Robert’s way of protecting your family.”
Izzy stared at him in total and utter shock. He understood the overwhelming sensation.
“I don’t think the word ‘terminated’ resulted in death. The more I read, patterns emerge and those patterns include side notes with a serious piece of their life that could destroy them. Not small like a husband cheating on his wife but a forged or fraudulent document that could imprison them.”
“To protect us?” She didn’t look convinced.
“Yes. For example, if a so-and-so person came after you, all you have to do is find his file and use the note Robert left to blackmail him and he will leave. That’s how serious the notes are.”
“Why would anyone come after us?”
“To tear down what Robert built.”
He saw the word “why” on the tip of her lips again, but he felt they’d both had enough talking for one night. When—if—she showed up in the basement, they could discuss business. Tonight, he wanted only her and a smile on her luscious lips...or his mouth on them.
“You wanna get out of here?” he asked.
She nodded, swallowing the rest of her drink and pushing his glass toward him to do the same.
He chugged it down, sliding off the stool and then holding out his hand for her. She slipped her hand in his. “But first...” she said with a giggle. She stopped at the poles and let go of his hand. “Strip for me.”
“No.”
She pouted. “You pole danced for me.”
His eyes darkened. “We are never to talk of this again.”
She laughed. “I could strip for you.” She did a sexy little sway of her hips, still wearing his shirt. It was sexy has hell. Desire shot through him. He couldn’t get out of here soon enough.
Grabbing her hand, he said, “Let’s go.”
Her feet stayed planted on the spot. “Sit down.” She pressed her warm flat palm against his chest, pushing him backwards until his legs hit a chair. He didn’t sit right away, fighting the urge to throw her over his shoulder and carry her to the elevator or pull her onto his lap on the chair.
“Sit. Down.”
He sat.
“What you watched today was amateur pole dancing,” she said. “I’m willing to give you a private, experienced show.”
He folded his arms across his chest, comfortably settled on the chair and watched her button up her shirt. “Sweetheart, I think you’re going backwards.”
She glared at him. “Don’t ruin the mood.” Like that was possible. “I have to button it up to unbutton it.”
That made no sense...until she started.
Chapter Twenty-Four
WATCHING HER SAUNTER away in her six-inch spiked heels, his shirt hanging over her rounded derrière, but still exposing her long, lean legs, he knew he was a goner. And did she ever saunter. Each slow, seductive step moved her hips from side to side, taunting and teasing him from a distance.
She winked at him from inside the control room right before music filtered from the ceiling speakers, setting a provocative mood. Leave it to Izzy to skip the romance. If this were any other time in his life, with the possibility of a future between them, he would have encouraged romance over seduction. Hell, he would have met her at her front door with flowers and an invitation to dinner. But with no chance of such events happening tonight, he agreed with her methods—lust only, no attachments.
S
ashaying back to the dance floor, she unbuttoned each button slowly, in a torturous, provocative, and all out damn sexy way. Then she shed the shirt, letting it fall to the floor. Her hands delicately slid up the pole, her sensual eyes locked on his, before moving into a graceful front hook spin. Her inside leg hooked around the pole, moving with it as if it were part of her body—smooth, sleek, controlled.
It should scare him that he knew the name of this move, however, this one basic move was the extent of his knowledgeable name-base status. He lost himself as he watched her amazing rhythmic strength. Limber, like precise perfect ripples of water, her lower body lifted above her head as she twisted her ankles around the pole, finishing in an upside down position. It was only the beginning of her poses. Her strength proved incredible as her body posed in various forms. She released her hands, extending one arm, arching her back and freeing her legs once again in such a fluent way it made his weightlifting exercises seem pathetic.
He’d lost concept of time, vanished in watching her for what felt like hours. When she finished, dropping to her feet and stepping away from the pole, she sent him a shy and modest smile.
Adorable.
Swiftly her façade shifted to a little bit of naughty and a whole lot of playful. She brought a whole new meaning to the “exercise” pole. An R-rated, strip-club sort of show began and, he’d admit, this woman knew how to trigger his sexual desire. He’d seen his share of strip shows in posh clubs, but those women had nothing on Izzy.
One leg wrapped around the pole, she arched backward, and when she came forward, he wished he was that damn pole and her legs were wrapped around him. “Like that?” she teased, pressing her cleavage against the pole and slowly sliding to her feet.
Damn right he liked that.
She abandoned the pole—about bloody hell time—and a wicked sound trickled its way from her to him. He watched her every step and she damn well knew she had his attention.
How could the woman make bending to ruffle through her purse a turn on? Maybe it was the wiggle of her rear end, or how her legs never ended.
“I’ve envisioned a thousand ways this could go down between us,” she said, stopping in front of him. She straddled his lap, roughly grasping the sides of his face and bringing his mouth a brush away from hers. Tease. “And never had this scenario played in my head.” She wiggled her hips against his.
He groaned. “How did you picture us?”
She smiled, moving back, letting his face go and licking her lips. “Before the torture room exposure...”
He watched pain flicker in her eyes. “Hey.”
He cupped her face, but before he could say another word she said, “No. I don’t want that part of me right now.” She moved his hand and kissed it. “You’ve witnessed a lot of that side of me, but there’s more to me than a broken girl.”
“I don’t think you’re broken.”
“On most occasions I’m an absolute blast,” she said. “You—” She jammed her finger into his chest. “—bring out the deepest parts of me that I hide from everyone else.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Tonight, file talk is off limits. Anything remotely to do with the library or my past isn’t open for discussion. It’s just me and you. A girl and a boy—a hot, sexy, beast of a boy.”
He grabbed her hips and drew her harder against him. “I’ll show you all beast and no boy.”
Her lips curled upwards. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about.” She brought one of his hands to her mouth and her tongue trailed slowly across his knuckles. His eyes flickered back and forth from hers to her tongue, just as she slid his finger into her mouth.
Bloody hell.
He moaned.
She smirked, moving onto his next finger, swirling her tongue. “Before the torture room, I maybe pictured you lying me down on the library desk, forgetting those damn files as they scattered around us and ripping through my cover up.”
He laughed. “Like a beast?” His laugh amplified at her overly exaggerated vision.
“Exactly.” Her fingers burned wildfire along his chin before she abruptly tilted his head back, her mouth claiming his throat. “I liked the handcuffs,” she softly murmured against his skin. Her hand clutched the back of his neck while her mouth tasted every part of his bared skin. He was wearing too much material. He wanted her bare skin on his bare skin.
Finally, her mouth found his, giving him a turn to take the lead. He gripped her neck hauling her against him.
She moaned.
Damn right she moaned. He’d make her moan his name all night long. She tasted delicious. Even better now that he knew she wasn’t sneaking off to meet some other guy.
Jealousy.
The word felt foreign to him. He’d never experienced jealousy over a woman. Not even with his ex wife. Looking back, he didn’t doubt she’d been screwing guys on the side their entire marriage. And, if he was truthful with himself, he’d admit he hadn’t given a shit back then because at least he’d been getting a break from her.
Which made him wonder why jealousy had pushed itself into his thoughts today. Why the contemplation of Izzy touching, kissing, or talking to another man gave him the sudden urge to beat up that fabricated man? And where did his need to keep her away from assholes who were only interested in her for the sex generate from? No one should treat her like an object to be objectified for their own pleasure.
Isn’t that what you’re doing?
He ignored the irritatingly accurate thought and pushed all his emotions away. Right now he wanted to only feel Izzy.
She slid off his lap, pressing a firm hand on his chest, keeping him seated.
A growl tore up his chest. He missed her heat on his body, but she only grinned at him. A devilish grin.
“The more we play, the louder that growl gets.” She walked around him, her hand tracing his body.
Stopping behind him, her hands firmly digging into his shoulders—claws of heat penetrating his skin, she slowly slid her hands down his bare torso, burning his flesh with her touch. Her velvety lips on his neck, kissing, licking, and sucking, while her hands continued to ravish his skin. Lost in her touch, his hand still managed to dig through her thick hair, grasping her head, wanting her to get back on his lap but unable to form the words. Her fingers were everywhere...it was damn bliss. Until he felt it. The cold metal swathing his wrists and the “click, click, click” sound of the connection.
His eyes flew open from their drowsy state, his attentive mind reeling the worst case scenario, while his arms automatically yanked only to find them bound to the chair. Handcuffed to the chair.
What the hell?
Izzy was on his lap again, grinning. “I told you, I liked the idea of cuffs. I’ve never used cuffs and you’re all handsy.”
“Uncuff me.” The air swooshed out of his lungs and his throat smothered in panic. He didn’t like feeling trapped.
Izzy covered his mouth with hers, her tongue tantalizing his lips. For a brief moment, he forgot about the metal cuffs around his wrists. How did she manage that?
With her arms around his neck, she leaned back. “How about this? I’ll give you a little lap dance, and if you stay cuffed through the whole thing. When we get back to my place, you can cuff me to anything you want and do whatever you want.”
Bloody hell. She was going to be the death of him.
“One dance.”
Her eyes lit up.
“You do have the keys to these, right? I don’t want my pants down and you having to call maintenance to unlock me.”
She laughed. “I want your pants down. That was my next suggestion.”
“Keys?”
“Yes. I promise.” She gave him a quick peck on the mouth, lingering against him. “You’re tense.”
Damn right he was tense. This wasn’t the first time he’d been in cuffs and it hadn’t followed with sex.
“Are you shaking?”
Shit.
“No.”<
br />
She pulled back. “Gunner, you’re trembling.” She touched his shoulders.
“Damn it, Izzy, do your dance,” he barked.
She didn’t move. Her eyes said a hundred thoughts.
Shit.
“Get on with your damn dance.”
IZZY LOST ALL INTEREST in the pole, and his barking demand had her jumping off his lap.
“No,” she retorted.
“Then uncuff me so I can leave.”
Her mouth fell open. “You want to leave?”
“Dammit, Izzy.”
She placed her hands on her hips.
He growled again but not for a good reason.
“I will uncuff you if you promise not to take off like a scared cat.”
His harsh stare raced goose bumps across her skin while at the same time saddened her. She didn’t want him to leave, but felt selfish to keep the cuffs on him when he looked on the verge of having a meltdown.
“Okay.” She sighed, dropping her hands and snatching the keys from her purse. Her breath caught in her throat as the handcuffs unsnapped, waiting for the worst.
He didn’t bound away like she’d assumed, but, instead, rubbed his wrist so hard she thought he might peel away his skin. She remained behind him, unable to face him. She’d rather watch his back than see the emotion on his face, or in his eyes. He surprised her by reaching his arm back for her, and whispering her name. She stared at his hand for a long time, her hand only inches from latching on.
He had baggage. Baggage didn’t matter when two parties only planned on sex. But, for them she couldn’t say it was only sex. He knew things about her, things she hadn’t shared with anyone, ever. And now, she witnessed things about him, cared about him. Didn’t that make them friends? And what were they doing getting naked together if they were friends? Were they friends with benefits?
“Izzy?”
Her eyes shot up to the back of his head—he still hadn’t looked at her. She slipped her hand in his, not knowing what they hell their title was, but not wanting to let him walk away. Instead, she let him guide her to his lap, where she didn’t dare straddle him this time.
