Black Skies Riviera: An Enemies To Lovers Mafia Romance

by Catherine Wiltcher

  How can one word turn the light pulse between my legs into a solid, painful beat? I’m practically panting as he takes my arm and leads me through the gold and marble-lined casino lobby and out onto the main gaming floor, under its striking domed ceilings and arched windows. In another time, when my body’s impulses weren’t dictating my every move, I would have stopped and admired all the artwork on the walls, but Aiden is a man on a mission and I’m too eager to follow him into the unknown.

  The smell of money is everywhere. It’s woody and fresh with each new shout of success, while acrid undertones accompany the groans and losses. It’s wall-to-wall beauty, from the throngs gathered around each table to all the supermodels and A-Listers drifting through to their private gaming rooms.

  The jeers, the chimes… I’m consumed by it all, but not as much as I am by the man next to me whose body heat is blasting into my skin, and whose raw masculinity is the most potent scent of all. Three days ago, in a bar in Cannes, I barely had his attention. Tonight, people are hailing him from all sides, but he’s ignoring them all in favor of me.

  I could pretend to be cool about it. I could remind myself of my imminent betrayal. I could even tell myself that I’m nothing but a passing vogue for a man who has used and discarded half of the Riviera. The truth of the matter is he’s making me feel wanted for the first in my life, and that’s his most wicked seduction of all.

  “Where are you taking me?” I ask breathlessly, as he leads me through another set of gilt-framed double doors.

  “My office.”

  I feel another vicious thrill of pleasure.

  Out through the great glass atrium and up another red-carpeted staircase, then he pauses by a large black door. Smashing a security code into a silver-gray box, he stands aside to let me enter first, a dangerously still expression on his face.

  Oh God.

  Can I do this?

  In true Aiden form, he doesn't give me a chance to debate it.

  Before I’ve a chance to register the huge circular office, he’s pushing me up against a floor-to-ceiling window running the expanse of one wall and overlooking the gaming floor below. My hands are held above my head. My dress is dragged above my hips… Aiden’s touch is hovering on the edge of violence, and it’s forcing me to confront things I never knew about myself: like the fact that his total domination is silencing my duplicity, and when he treats me this way, I can feel my juices dripping down the inside of my thighs. I need his corruption more than I need air.

  “I could go easy on you, Ielena,” I hear him purr. “I could steal your virginity in a soft bed with soft kisses, but that’s not the kind of man I am. I’m a sadistic bastard, and you’re about to get a taste of how much.”

  “Show me,” I croak, as his hand wraps around my throat. The chill of the glass against my back is making my burning skin rash up.

  “Still up for meeting me halfway?”

  His mocking tone has me gritting out my answer, “Every time.”

  “We’ll see.” With this, his spins me around. “It’s tinted glass, Ielena,” he reassures as I expose myself to the entire casino. “No one gets to see this glorious sight but me.” The next thing I know, my panties are hitting the floor and he’s kicking my legs apart. “Time to finish what we started.” I can feel the imprint of his erection against my naked ass. “How much do you want me?”

  “So much,” I say with a groan. It’s taking all of my willpower not to relieve the throbbing pulse between my legs myself.

  “How much are you willing to sacrifice?”

  “Everything.”

  “Tongue or fingers?”

  “Cock,” I whisper, grinding my forehead into the glass.

  “Cock?” He sounds amused. “Why, you have to earn that first.” He spins me back around and I’m mesmerized by the blazing lust on his face.

  He’s a liar. He’s a goddamn liar. He’s swaying on the edge of his self-control, just as much as I am.

  “Get down on your knees. Second lesson starts now.”

  For a second, I falter. “Here?”

  I watch him snap open his belt. “I can drag you downstairs and we can do it on top of Blackjack table if you like, but I’d have a hell of a lot of murder on my hands afterward.”

  He’s not joking.

  I glance at the shut door. “What if someone comes in?”

  “Then I’d shoot them in the head, too.” As if to prove the point, he takes out a gun from his waistband and slams it down on the dark mahogany table next to us. “Now, do as I ask, I’m losing patience.”

  I sink to my knees and run my fingers over the huge bulge in his trousers. I’ve fallen a long, long way from untouchable mafia princess to this: a compromising position in a master criminal’s lair and so blindsided by desire it’s holding all my senses hostage. But when he reaches to undo his zipper, my fingers are already there.

  “Eager, sweetheart?” he says as I tug his pants and boxers down and his cock springs free. Warm and smooth, I run my hand up and down his shaft a few times before lapping at his head and slit, hearing him curse my name as he braces his hands on the glass above me. “Shit, baby, you’re a natural.”

  Feeling bolder, I wrap my lips around him, and guide him into my mouth. Flat palms become clenched fists.

  “Fuck…”

  “Is this okay?”

  “No, it’s shit,” he gasps out. “But keep going anyway.”

  “I don’t believe you, Aiden Knight.”

  “I don't believe me, either.”

  I move faster, sucking harder. It’s me who is on a mission now. I bob my head in time with his harsh curses, feeling him so deep at the back of my throat that I’m forced to breathe through my nose before his hand is crashing down on the back of my head and he’s driving in even deeper. “You want it, then fucking take it.”

  Seconds later, he’s pressing my face into his crotch and holding it there, groaning out my name as a liquid heat starts pumping down my throat. Salty. Generous. His cum is a never-ending spurt.

  Our eyes meet as he slides out of my mouth. His expression is glazed and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. “You have some serious explaining to do,” he says roughly, tucking himself back inside his pants and winching the belt together again. “That was fucking incredible.”

  I swipe the back of my hand across my wet chin. “I said I was a virgin, but I never said of what.”

  He pauses. “What the fuck did you just say?”

  “Joke,” I say, backtracking quickly. This man is proprietorial, uncompromising… Alpha is at the heart of his DNA. He doesn't like to share. He doesn’t even like to consider it.

  “It better be.” He hauls me up and folds me into his arms, my dress still tucked up around my waist. “I’m taking all your firsts, your lasts, your sexual everything...” He carries me over to a large black desk and with one hand sweeps a pile of papers onto the floor.

  “I thought people only did that in movies.” He drops me on top, and then drags me to the edge by my ankles.

  “Lie back and close your eyes, Ielena,” he orders as he pushes my legs apart. “I’m about to shine your fucking star.”

  I didn’t realize he was being gentle before. What he does next to my body is total devastation.

  Pretty soon he’s devouring my pussy with his tongue—sucking, fucking—plunging two fingers inside me before I can brace myself for the intrusion. In a bid to anchor myself to the chaos, I swing my arms above my head and grasp the lip of the desk for all I’m worth.

  “Aiden!” I scream as he slides a third finger inside me, driving me so far into heaven thoughts scatter and nothing else exists.

  “I’m bigger than this,” I hear him say huskily. “So you better get used to it.”

  “Please!”

  “Please, what?”

  I don’t even know what I’m begging for anymore. I’m all fireworks and broken lullabies.

  “Maybe your sister made the wrong choice. Rumors are Luc
a Zaccaria fucks just as hard as I do.”

  “She never had a choice! She never had a choice!”

  His mouth and fingers disappear and I hear the clink of his belt buckle again.

  “Where did she go, Ielena?” he whispers, sliding his cock up and down my pussy—soaking himself, and teasing me to distraction. When I don’t answer, he slides his cock an inch or so into me.

  I arch my back into the delicious burn, but he withdraws again to wrap my legs around his waist.

  “I’ve been wanting you to do that since the day we met.”

  “More,” I pant.

  “So fucking greedy for it, aren’t you?” His accent has slipped into a London dialect I don’t recognize. All our bare bones are being exposed. “My perfect, soon-to-not-be-so-innocent wife… Do you really want to lose it like a whore, on my desk?”

  “Better a whore than a virgin. I’m done with innocence.”

  “Debatable.” With that, he thrusts back inside me, driving even deeper as I cry out in pain and relief. “You’re so fucking tight,” he grunts. “A whore can never come close to this.” He pushes in even further. How can heaven and hell be this perfect a combination? “Is she in trouble, baby?” His soft words are like a caress.

  “Yes.” But not as much trouble as I’m in right now. I’m losing my mind.

  “Tell me.”

  “Harder.”

  He drives all the way in, silencing my next scream with a brutal kiss as I let go of the desk to dig my fingers into his silky, black hair. He pauses once he’s buried up to the hilt and we’re bathing in each other’s ragged breaths. “Mine,” he growls, seeking out my mouth again. “Too much has been taken from me, but not you. No one else will ever feel this, fuck this, taste this… Do you understand?” He’s almost feral in his possession. “Answer me, Ielena. Who does this body belong to?”

  “You,” I croak as he finally starts to move—thrusting deep and slow, touching and tainting.

  “Say it again,” he demands, increasing his pace, grinding so deep he’s stealing the air from my lungs. “I’m about to take your innocence and paint it black.”

  “You!”

  I’m right on the edge of that pleasure void again—falling, falling—and he’s the only one who can catch me. His fingers slide into my mouth and I can taste my own arousal on his skin.

  “Bite down, baby,” he orders. “This is where it gets rough.”

  He takes me like the animal that he is—slamming harder and harder—as lost in this moment as I am. As for me, I’m biting, moaning, and tearing at his hair as my orgasm detonates inside me. He follows me down with a labored curse. I can feel his cock jerking as my inner muscles squeeze every last drop of cum from his body.

  Exhausted, my fingers slide for his hair and my legs tumble from around his waist.

  “Tell me, Ielena,” he murmurs, resting his weight on his elbows. “Tell me where she is?”

  “Dying,” I whisper.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Aiden

  Dying?

  My head jerks up for confirmation, but she’s already drifting in and out of consciousness.

  What the ever-loving hell?

  Even in my freshly fucked haze, I can feel the shock of the word echoing through me. I wanted to pound the truth out of her. I wanted her sweet lips to bring me ever closer to my vengeance... I never considered that it would tug at something Tommaso Zaccaria had beaten out of me fourteen years ago.

  She winces as my cock slides from her body. I’ve hurt her in the best ways possible, but I shouldn’t have lost control like that. I never lose control.

  Fixing my pants and belt, I walk over to my en suite for a clean hand towel. Running it under the hot tap for a minute, I return to the desk. She’s still lying where I left her, but she’s drawn her knees together and rocked them to one side. She looks vulnerable. Used.

  “Okay, baby, this’ll make it feel better.” I part her legs and she whimpers in protest, but she doesn’t stop me. I press the warm towel to her and she flinches as I set about wiping the inside of her thighs clean.

  “I can’t believe I did that,” she whispers, lifting her head to watch me.

  Is she referring to the slip-up over her sister or the out-of-this-world fuck?

  As I suspected, there’s no blush on her cheeks anymore, just the remnants of exertion and sin. I’ve killed the last of Ielena Dubova over my desk tonight. She’s a fallen Knight now.

  “I’ve broken you in, sweetheart. This is where the fun starts.”

  Who am I fooling? It doesn’t get much better than that.

  Removing the towel, I can still see the residue of my cum glistening at the apex of her thighs. I fight a primal urge to push it back inside her. I want a part of me corrupting her at all times, because she’s so fucking corruptible.

  Instead, I toss the towel on the floor and help her up to a seated position. Her hand flies to her hair again, but no amount of frantic patting is going to disguise what just went down in here.

  “You look fine.” I reach down and smooth it away from her face. She looks beautiful.

  “Is it always like that?” she says, gazing up at me. “My mind went blank. I feel like I’ve just lost thirty minutes of my life.”

  Good job, too, sweetheart. Your secret is very unsafe with me. Even so, I’m having that feeling again, that guilt-type feeling, which can fuck right off.

  “Let me fill you in.” I take her delicate jaw between my fingers. “You told me I was a god, you professed your undying sexual love to me, you swore my body was temple, and then you screamed out that my dick was the eighth wonder of the world… Sound about right?”

  She grins slowly, that rosebud unfolding just for me. “I have no recollection of any of that.”

  “You also switched between four different languages, so it’s a good thing I’m multilingual. ‘Fuck me harder’ sounds so much sexier in Russian.”

  “You’re a wicked man, Aiden Knight.”

  “And you’re his wicked wife.”

  Dying.

  Karina Dubova is dying.

  I let go of her with a frown. “Okay, so I may have paraphrased.” We’re interrupted by a knock at the door. “Go away!” I snarl.

  “Aiden. Let me in.”

  It’s Frankie’s serious we-have-a-huge-fucking-problem voice.

  “Hang on a minute.” Blowing out a breath, I walk over to the sideboard where I left my gun and slide it back into my waistband. “Stay here,” I tell Ielena. “Help yourself to a drink.” I jab my finger at the well-stocked bar in the corner, and then to the door next to it. “En suite is over there.”

  Frankie is leaning against the far wall with a scowl a mile wide. “New aftershave, Raven?”

  The smell of sex is clinging to my skin like a hippie’s incense stick.

  “Hanging out by the keyhole, were we?” I shoot back. “I never figured you as the voyeur type.”

  “Hard not to listen either when she’s drowning out the slot machines. There’s a man downstairs who’s calling himself Rocco Rossi. Says he’s here to deliver a message from his father. I’ll give you two guesses who that is.”

  “A hand-delivered message in return for a decapitated-head one,” I muse. “We need to get ourselves a couple of email accounts. Hey, Louis!” I shout.

  One of my men emerges from the room next door. “Yes, Monsieur Knight?”

  “Stand here, and don’t let me wife out of my office under any circumstance. Do you hear me?”

  He nods as I turn back to Frankie who’s already checking the clip in his Glock. “Let’s go and see what the bastard wants…”

  I lead the way, with Frankie and two more of our men dropping in behind us.

  “I take it this isn’t going to be a friendly message?”

  “All he offered was a shit-eating grin and a business card.” Frankie hands it over as we take the stairs together. The card is unfussy, white and elegant: Three words, with a symbol of a key stamped in blood-red
ink above the writing.

  La Società Villefort

  “Looks like we’ve hit a nerve with someone,” I say, resisting the urge to crush it in my fist. Has Zaccaria got back to you yet? Maybe he can shed some light.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Order security to close the front gates. No one comes in or out until Mr. Rossi says what he needs to say.”

  Frankie pulls out his cell and issues the instruction.

  “One more thing.” I jerk him to a stop as we reach the bottom stair. “Karina Dubov is sick,” I say, lowering my voice. “Get a detailed description, and then send it wide to every major hospital in Europe. I want all our contacts working on this, as well.”

  Frankie doesn’t respond, but here’s a hell of a lot going on in his silence.

  “No need to bother with the US or Canada. I doubt she would have been able to travel further afield.”

  His stone-gray gaze is demanding more information, but I’m already walking away. “Whatever you find out keep the information between us.”

  Rocco Rossi is standing by the lobby doors. He has his back to me—which is pretty audacious if he knows of my reputation—staring out at the floodlit fountain beyond the forecourt.

  He turns when he hears our footsteps approaching. Dressed in black tails, with his bowtie undone, he’s a ‘60s Frank Sinatra clone who took a deeper dip on the Italian side. He’s younger than me by a couple of years, but his smirk is at least a foot wider.

  “Mr. Knight.” He holds his hand out to me. “Thank you for your time.”

  “Signor Rossi.” I take it briefly. Firm as fuck. “What brings you to Black Skies Riviera?”

  “Black Skies?” He quirks his eyebrows at the nickname

  “This is my home. My territory. If I don’t like what people are selling, I turn their lives a shade of that color.”

  My threat is in my delivery, not my words, and as expected his smirk slips.