My Mobster

by J. L. Drake

  His body blanketed mine again, and he brushed a kiss across my lips. “Better?”

  “Yeah. Now fuck me before I change my mind.” My voice came out throaty and unrecognizable, not only in tone, but in every way possible. Those words didn’t belong to me. I had never uttered anything remotely similar in my entire life.

  He threw his head back and laughed, and his corded neck muscles stood out in sharp relief. “You’re a bossy thing.”

  He guided himself inside of me in one breath-robbing thrust. He paused for a second. Then, moved in and out in experimental jousts that ignited little spasms of mind-numbing bliss deep inside my core.

  I rolled my hips.

  “Shit,” he said, his voice thick and shaky with desire. “If you keep doing that, this won’t last long.”

  “I don’t care.” I rolled my hips again, and this time, I dug my nails into his back, hunting for the release that already shimmered exasperatingly close.

  Like a mind reader, he anchored his hands around my hips, positioning me so that each flex of his pelvis rubbed me in a way that had me mumbling senseless words and winding me tighter and tighter. Every molecule inside of me reached for him. Craved him. Within mere minutes, an orgasm split through me, my inner muscles clamping down in frenzied pleasure.

  A scream tumbled from my swollen lips. My heart pounded like I had danced for hours, and the spasms kept going and going like I had all the time in the world.

  Gian thrust hard and fast. With the bed frame creaking and the headboard tapping against the wall, he lost control. His lips were pulled back over his teeth, and damp strands of his hair clung to his forehead. His eyelids dropped to half-mast, and he swelled inside of me. A whisper of a groan split his lips, and he exploded.

  When the haze of lust faded, he rolled off me. I pried open my eyelids and looked at him. He was stretched out on the bed with one arm propped behind his head, his chest heaving and his brow dotted with perspiration. He caught my gaze and slotted his fingers through mine without saying anything.

  Lying there next to him, sated and content for the first time since I hurt my ankle was unreal. I felt like I had stepped into an alternative universe where black was white and white was black. While none of our problems were resolved and the animosity between us would unquestionably return, for right now, in this silver of time, my heart was free, and my head was clear. Amusement still toying with the corners of my lips, my eyes drifted closed, and my heart rate evened out.

  “By the way, don’t think I didn’t notice the way you mangled my toothpaste.”

  “Huh?” My eyes popped open, and I looked at him. “Mangled your toothpaste. What the hell are you talking about?”

  He poked the side of my ribs with our interlaced hands. “You squeezed the middle instead of rolling up the end.”

  I blinked. “So?”

  “Who does that?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Apparently, me.”

  “Yeah, well, that needs to stop.” He clucked at me. “That’s the kind of stuff that will ruin our fake engagement.”

  “Thanks for the tip. I’ll lodge a complaint about your dictatorial ways with Carmela to lay the groundwork for our impending breakup.”

  He snorted. “Carmela has to take my side. She’s my twin. Twins trump friends.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, we’ll see about that.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Evangeline

  My eyes blinked open, and I felt nearly as tired as I did when I finally fell asleep last night. With a heavy sigh, I rolled onto my side. Big red numbers on the alarm clock screamed at me.

  9:18.

  Crap.

  Double crap.

  I had booked time in the dance studio at ten. I’d be late even if I managed to get ready and out the door in the next fifteen minutes. I jumped out of bed, and cold air hit my naked form like a brick wall. A rush of uncomfortable memories taunted me. Jeered at me.

  My stomach bottomed out. Flames licked at my cheeks. My knees wobbled, and even supposing I wanted to pretend like last night didn’t happen, my first step shattered the illusion. I was deliciously sore in all the wrong…or right places. I couldn’t decide which. My sleepy brain scrambled for a way to rationalize what had happened between us.

  Don’t think about it. Don’t think about him. It doesn’t matter.

  The clock ticking, I yanked a t-shirt over my head and ran out of the room. Ten minutes later, I was dressed with my dance bag slung over my shoulder and rushing toward the front door. I skidded to a halt when I noticed Gian sitting at the long walnut kitchen table, scrolling through his phone.

  My heart stopped for a second then lurched into gear, beating double time, fueled by my already frazzled nerves. I’d counted on not seeing him for a day or two, or at worst until tonight. He was normally long gone by this time of day. Now that I thought about it, though, I’d seen him more in the last three days than the entire previous week.

  “Where’s Tony?” I kept my voice monotone all while silently begging my face not to blush.

  It wasn’t like I’d never hooked up with a guy and had to face him the next day, but it happened infrequently enough that I felt decidedly awkward. I didn’t know where to put my hands. I didn’t know where to look, so my gaze bounced everywhere other than on him. I licked my lips. I fidgeted from one leg to the other. More than a little annoyed with myself, I froze like a deer caught in headlights. Was there anything more pathetic than the way I was acting? Because right then, I felt like an enormous loser who couldn’t handle a simple hookup with sophisticated indifference.

  Gian looked at me over the rim of his blue coffee mug, one brow cocked, his ever-smirking lips mocking my discomfort. “He had some personal business today, so I gave him the day off.”

  “Well, then…” I tugged on the cornflower blue infinity scarf that felt more like a noose around my neck the longer he looked at me. “I guess I’ll catch a cab. See you later.”

  He stood, the metal legs of his chair scraping across the ebony-stained hardwood floors. “Where are you going?”

  “Dancing.” At his blank look, I continued. “I booked some private time in a dance studio to practice and get in shape. I’ll be back in a couple of hours.”

  “Ah, right. I don’t know how I forgot.” He snagged his phone from the table and stuffed it in the back pocket of his dark jeans. “I’ll give you a ride.”

  “You don’t have to do that. I’m fine taking a cab.” I flipped my hand toward him. “I’m sure you have better stuff to do. Don’t you have to work or something like that?”

  “Nope. It’s Monday. The club isn’t open.” He edged closer to me, his heavy footfalls ringing in my ears. “Besides, I don’t want you wandering around by yourself. It’s not a good idea after what happened last night.”

  My brows scrunched together, and my heart did this weird fluttery thing inside my chest. For a fleeting second, I thought he meant what happened between us. Then I remembered the drive home, and my shoulders uncoiled with relief. I didn’t want to jump right into a conversation about the meaning of last night. It’d muddle my thoughts and tear my attention away from dancing, and I needed to remain focused on my career regardless of what happened in my personal life.

  “Yeah, okay. You’re probably right,” I agreed despite the anxiety clawing at my chest. What other choice did I have? “Do you have any idea what happened? Was it random or…?” I didn’t know how to finish my sentence.

  “I’m working on it.”

  “Okay.”

  I didn’t understand Gian’s world. He never talked to me about the risks of what he did. I assumed he and his family were into some bad stuff and somehow connected to the mafia, and other than that, I didn’t know shit. I was running blind, and I couldn’t exactly use mafia movies or books to give me the down low on what not to do. As much as it irked me to rely on another man after Kevin, I had to trust Gian.

  ***

  Twenty minutes later, I stood in the dance stu
dio in a pair of black capri leggings and a cotton cropped black top that hung off one shoulder. I moved from leg holds to lunges and every other stretch in my warmup routine, doing my best to ignore Gian’s presence. It seemed nearly impossible. My gaze tangled with his every time his feet shuffled over the hardwood floor or his finger pressed against the screen of his phone. Every movement, breath, or shared glance reminded me of last night, and I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

  Sighing, I stuffed my earbuds into my ears and started moving through a dance I had choreographed last week.

  Pas de bourrée.

  Grand jeté.

  Fouetté

  Every noise, thought, and twinge of pain faded away. I loved dancing. It was a part of me. I loved flowing from one move to the other, my body straining, muscles flexing and merging with the music. I loved the way the bass rumbled through me, making me feel alive. Even if I couldn’t do it professionally, I knew I could never stop dancing. It was imprinted on my soul. Without it, I’d be lost.

  Two hours passed like twenty minutes. Sweat misted my forehead. While my legs felt a little too much like jelly for my liking, my ankle didn’t hurt nearly as much as last week. In fact, I hardly noticed it once I got into the routine.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Gian

  I punched out text after text, calling in favors, threatening people if necessary, because I needed to figure out who was behind the attempt on my life last night. The car that rammed us was a black Cadillac Escalade with dark tinted windows. Unfortunately, it didn’t have a front license plate, and I never got a look at the back.

  I had Tony making inquiries about a car in the shop with similar characteristics. Unless the car was stolen or the owner was a stunade, I didn’t expect him to find anything. Sal was spending the day poking around Brighton Beach to see what the Russians were up to, and I’d been avoiding Dominick’s underboss, Nico DeAngelo, like the plague. Apparently, the attempt on my life had wormed its way up to Dominick, and Nico had demanded to see me sometime today.

  Right now, Nico or “Crazy Nico” as everyone called him, was the crown prince in the Trassato family. Dominick loved the bastard, but by most accounts, everyone else considered him a loose cannon with an unhealthy penchant for murder and torture. Before Dominick promoted him to underboss at the age of thirty-four, Nico had carried out more than three dozen mob hits, and all of them involved systematically dismembering the targets like a seasoned meat butcher.

  I gripped the phone tightly in my hand, and I reread the coded messages for the third time. Since so much of our day-to-day activities skirted the law, we had our own vernacular. The consequence of someone reading plainly worded texts would be catastrophic.

  Nico: The country club has a steak special. Do you want to meet for dinner?

  The country club was code for Carmine’s, a restaurant owned by another capo. We used the back room of the restaurant for meetings because Dominick had it swept for listening devices on a daily basis.

  Me: Can’t today.

  Nico: I heard what the dogs did to your car. I want to talk to you about cleaning it.

  We used dogs as a general term to discuss an enemy.

  Me: Did Red tell you?

  Nico: Doesn’t matter.

  Fucking Tony. I was going to rip his fucking head off and shit down his throat. I had serious doubts about whether I should trust him anymore. I thought Carlo wanted to take me down, but now I saw enemies everywhere.

  Me: I’m busy today.

  Nico: Don’t eat alone.

  Eating alone meant being greedy. What a miserable cocksucker. No one accused me of being greedy. I bent over backward for Dominick. He got a taste of all my business, including the legit shit. He was my fucking uncle. I wouldn’t screw him over despite the fact that he was an asshole.

  Me: Fuck off.

  Nico: You need to report your latest scores today to finalize your handicap for the tournament.

  Reporting my latest scores meant reporting shit to Nico and Dominick. Essentially, he pulled the trump card. I couldn’t deny Dominick’s direct orders without serious ramifications.

  Dread curling around my chest, my options circled through my mind like a record player stuck on repeat. A little over a week ago, I was on top of the world. How fast things changed. Now every part of my life was on the verge of imploding.

  After a few minutes of deliberation, I sent Nico a quick text.

  Me: I’ll meet you at the country club for dinner tonight.

  I didn’t have a choice. He mentioned him, and all bets were off. As much as his speech and our conversation last night pissed me the fuck off, I couldn’t defy Dominick.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a blur of black in the wall of mirrors. My irritation faded the second my gaze landed on Evie. Her body dipped to the side, and she spun in a circle with one leg raised high in the air. Marone, the way her long, toned legs moved seamlessly from one move to the next made my cock twitch.

  I remembered the way her skin felt like silk under my fingers. The way her long legs hugged my waist when I moved inside of her. The not so quiet moans she made as she came undone.

  My phone beeped repeatedly—only, I no longer gave a shit. I silenced it and stuffed it in my pocket. When ten minutes became an hour, I slid down the wall to get comfortable. Engrossed didn’t begin to describe what I felt while I watched her float from one move to the other. I wished the music flowed from the overhead speakers, not her earbuds. I wanted to hear what she heard, feel what she felt, and somehow be part of her secret world.

  Finally, she stopped moving, and as selfish as it sounded, I hated that she didn’t acknowledge me. She’d managed to forget I was here with her, and it stung because I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

  She yanked her earbuds from her ears and draped the wire around her shoulders. Chest heaving, she closed her eyes and moved her head in a circle, first one direction and then the other.

  I cleared my throat, and she froze, keeping her eyes squeezed shut for a fraction longer than necessary.

  She turned her back to me and snagged her sweater from the barre mounted to the wall. “You didn’t have to stick around. I’m sure you were bored out of your mind.”

  “Far from it.” Needing to touch her, I crossed the room, wrapped my hands around her waist, and pulled her back flush against my chest. I drew circles on the exposed skin of her belly, loving the way her muscles jumped under my fingers. “You’re incredibly talented. I can see why you don’t want to give up your dream. There’s no way you won’t get another role soon.”

  “Hah.” A forced laugh burst from her lips, and she twisted out of my hold. “It’s not that easy. It’s been a year, and people in the industry have already forgotten about me, and in the unlikely event that they haven’t, my injury and lengthy absence will linger in the back of their minds.”

  “I don’t know.” I rubbed my fingers across my lips. “You might be surprised.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.” She pulled her sweater over her head and grabbed her dance bag from the hardwood floor. “I guess I’ll find out soon enough.”

  I followed her out of the room. “Why’s that?”

  “There’s an audition I’m going to at the end of next month.” She paused mid-step. “That is, if you’re okay with it.”

  My shoulders tensed. “Of course you can go to an audition. Why do you think I’d stop you?”

  “I had my doubts.” She shrugged. “You gotta admit you have me on a pretty short leash.”

  I ground my teeth together, biting back the response on the tip of my tongue.

  “Wait, Miss Jeffers,” called a woman with caramel colored skin, high cheekbones, and nearly black hair.

  Evie lifted a hand in greeting. “Oh. Hi, Jenna. I didn’t realize you’d be here today.”

  “I tried to run the credit card number you called in last week, and it didn’t work.”

  “Really?” Evie twisted the hem of her sweater and a blush stained he
r cheeks. “I don’t understand why that happened. Maybe you could try to run it again?” She shoved her hand into her open bag and pulled out a black wallet. “What were the last four digits of the card I gave you?”

  Jenna’s fingers rapped over the keyboard. “Nine. Eight. Eight. Three.”

  Evie unzipped her wallet and pulled out a silver credit card. “Huh.” She tipped her head to the ceiling, and then her eyes flared. “Shit. I forgot to pay the bill,” she mumbled under her breath.

  I pulled out my wallet and tossed a credit card on the counter. “Put it on here.”

  “No.” Evie slapped her hand on top of mine, waving her head. “You can’t pay for my stuff. I won’t let you.”

  Grinning at Jenna, I dislodged Evie’s hand from mine. “Isn’t my fiancée cute? She hates it when I pay for things; however, I insist. By the way, you can keep my card on file and charge me weekly for all her studio time.”

  “Perfect.” Jenna snatched the credit card from my hand. “Thank you,” she held up the card and squinted at the name, “Mr. Trassato.” Her voice hitched, and her hand trembled like she recognized the name.

  “Why are you doing this?” Evie hissed.

  “Don’t make it into a big deal.”

  She planted her hands on her hips. “It’s fifty dollars an hour.”

  “So?” I raised my brows. “What’s your point?”

  “That’s two hundred and fifty dollars for last week and another hundred for today.”

  “I’m not worried. I can afford it.”

  Her gaze flitted to the side, and her teeth grazed her plump lower lip. My breath stuttered inside my chest…just a little. If I didn’t think she’d slap me across the face, I wouldn’t hesitate to steal another kiss right now. She looked so damn sexy, and I hadn’t gotten nearly enough of her last night. There were so many things I’d been dreaming about doing to her, and now that I’d crossed the line, I didn’t give a fuck about the consequences. Provided that we both understood that it wouldn’t become permanent, no one would get hurt.