Marrying the Mobster: American Gangsters 1 (Leave Me Breathless)

by Victoria Vale

  She shivers, her arm breaking out with goose bumps as I run my index finger up and down the tender skin. Now that my hand is on her, I can’t pull it away.

  “How am I doing?” she whispers, biting her lip. “It’s tense in there.”

  “Welcome to my world. You’re doing just fine, gatita. Oleg is taken with you, even though he knows you’re competition for Nataly.”

  Elena wrinkles her nose. “Did you really consider marrying that porcelain doll? She seems … empty. Like nobody’s home.”

  My lips quiver, and I’m laughing before I realize it. “Is that jealousy I hear?”

  She snorts and puts a hand against my chest to push me away. I resist, edging so close she can’t move without grinding that delicious body of hers against me. Not that it would make much of a difference. I’m as hard as a fucking stone, every part of me straining toward her.

  “Please,” she mutters. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

  Gripping her chin, I tip her head back and stare into her eyes. “I don’t have to flatter myself. The looks you’ve been giving me all night are enough.”

  “I’m playing the role you forced on me.”

  “A role you accepted when you agreed to do whatever I say,” I correct her. “A role you’re fulfilling well, by the way.”

  “You too,” she breathes, her gaze dropping to my mouth as I loom over her, breathing in her intoxicating scent. “Is that why you’re … doing this?”

  ‘This’ doesn’t refer to me dragging her out of the room or standing so close. We both know she’s referring to what I’ve already made my mind up to do.

  “No,” I murmur against her mouth, heavy breaths tangling between us. “I’m doing this because I want to.”

  She whimpers when I kiss her, my lips hard and demanding. The first taste of Elena sets me off, and what I meant to be a quick show for Oleg—who I know is watching from the door—turns into something else entirely.

  I lick at the seam of her lips, prodding her mouth open to accept me. Her tongue is rough and slick, pushing against mine with the same desperation coming off me in waves.

  I grind against her, groaning into her mouth at the softness and warmth reaching me through her dress. Her nipples are hard against my chest, her pelvis pushing against mine when she arches her back. I’m going at her like a man possessed, my hands traveling her body while I bite and lick and suck at her lower lip. She’s fucking intoxicating—a shot of the finest Scotch, a hit of the strongest drug. I cup a breast and squeeze hard enough to draw a yelp from her, my dick pulsing at the feel of such soft, giving flesh. I slip the fingers of my other hand beneath the hem of her dress, finding the underside of her ass. I trace the smooth, round cheek, making her shudder in my arms. Then, Elena squeals into my mouth as I give that perfect ass cheek a light smack, then grab it and squeeze. She’s kissing me back, writhing against me and driving me crazy with the scrape of her fingernails through my hair.

  Lifting her leg and draping it around me, I knead her thigh and push into the opening between her legs. The thin, silky covering of a thong is the only thing in the way of what I want. It would be so easy, and with how cranked up I am right now, it would be quick. I’m shaking, losing hold of my self-control. I wouldn’t care if the entire party gathered around to watch; I’m two seconds away from snatching that thong to the side and fucking her against this wall.

  Elena snaps us out of the dangerous haze we’re in. She pushes me away, her raised foot falling to the floor. I stop myself just short of forcing her back against the wall and picking up where I left off. But a glance over my shoulder proves we’ve been successful. Oleg’s broad back disappears into the room, so I assume he saw everything.

  Resting against the wall across from Elena, I watch her with hazy eyes, my cock so hard it’s painful. She pulls her hem down, her lips puffy and her eyes glittering in the darkness. If we stay like this much longer, I’m not going to be able to stop myself from dragging her into the nearest empty room.

  “Go back to the party,” I say. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  She wrinkles her brow. “But, why—”

  “Go!” I snap, turning to walk away.

  Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me? Does she recognize the dangers of letting me have even the slightest taste of her?

  I pause at the door to a bathroom and watch her disappear into the sitting room. Relief sags my shoulders and I go inside to collect myself. I pace the bathroom for a little while, trying to forget what just happened and settle the conflicting needs tearing through me. Nothing is worth ruining relations with Oleg, and the only way I could do that now is by slipping up.

  After splashing my face with cold water, I do my best to smooth my hair. A few strands are rebelling, tousled by Elena’s fingers and content to remain that way.

  With nothing left to do but face what’s left of the evening, I leave the bathroom. Elena continues to perform well. Sparing her life has offered the perfect wedge between myself and Oleg’s wedding ambitions.

  It also seems to be having another effect—one I might come to regret. It’s making me want something I shouldn’t. My obsession with Elena only stands to strengthen the longer I have control of her. It’s exactly the sort of thing I never wanted to be a slave to—the kind of bullshit that has led to other men in my position dying as a result of stupid mistakes made with organs other than the brain. I’ve always considered myself stronger than them, but Elena is testing my limits.

  The worst part of this isn’t lost on me.

  I have no one to blame other than myself.

  15

  Elena

  Diego is stone-faced and silent through the rest of the party. Viktor keeps his distance and everyone watches us with curiosity. My cheeks heat up every time I look at him, our kiss in running through my mind on an endless loop.

  It didn’t mean anything. Diego only kissed me because Oleg was watching … and maybe even to put me in my place. That’s all there was; nothing more, nothing else.

  Except, that’s not true. There was no mistaking Diego was turned on. If the shudders going through him weren’t enough, there was the erection he shamelessly rubbed against me. The lingering dampness in my thong can’t be ignored, either. Diego wasn’t the only one who affected by that kiss.

  I’m angrier at myself than I am at him. Diego Pérez kidnapped me, and has held me at gunpoint on multiple occasions. He has terrified and imprisoned me, taking away my life as I know it.

  Keeping a level head and a smile on my face gets more exhausting by the minute, but I manage to last until we say our good-byes. The moment I’m in the elevator with Diego, Jovan, and Marcella, I feel like I might collapse and fall asleep. Everyone seems a little more relaxed, but the looks Diego gives me when he thinks I’m not paying attention are dark and intense. I feel those eyes all over me, reminding me of the places his hands touched. I’m hot all over, embarrassed, confused, and wrung dry. On top of all that my body is still shaky and hot, arousal growing stronger instead of tapering off. Being in an enclosed space with Diego is wreaking havoc on my senses, and there won’t be relief any time soon. My life is about him now, and even when I can’t see Diego I can smell him, sense him … feel him.

  I may not survive, and not because of Diego’s threat. I don’t know how long I can go on like this before I explode.

  Marcella returns to the car she arrived in, leaving me and Diego alone in his car on the way home. The privacy screen is up between us and Jovan, making the car seem smaller. I stare through the window at the moonlit night, trying to pretend Diego isn’t here.

  It’s not working. His smell rubbed off on me when we kissed, and it’s as if he’s become a part of me. I’m so aware of him it’s uncanny.

  “You did well tonight.”

  The sudden break in silence startles me, and my heart gallops as I look at him. He’s watching me, but his eyes don’t betray any of his thoughts. He’s a brick wall again—immovable and unreadable.


  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He reaches into his pocket and retrieves his cell phone. “Your associate has been texting to check up on you. Answer her, ask how things are going at Belleza. Don’t try anything stupid or there will be consequences.”

  I accept the phone, giving him a surprised look. I never told him the name of my boutique outright, which means he was listening when I was talking to Oleg.

  Diego smirks. “Yes, gatita, I was listening. You are proud of what you have accomplished, as you should be. I’m sure it wasn’t easy.”

  “No,” I agree. “And yes … I am proud.”

  “Continue performing as you did tonight, and your next reward will be better than this one. Things don’t have to be unpleasant between us, Elena. If you behave, I can be very generous.”

  I pause in the middle of my text. “I thought this was a one-time thing.”

  Diego shakes his head. “Not if I know Oleg. He won’t be happy just seeing us together once. When he pulled me aside tonight, he asked if we were serious. I told him we had just started living together.”

  There’s humor in his voice, which makes me let out a dry laugh. “Well, it’s not exactly a lie, is it?”

  “Now that Oleg has hosted us in his home, the polite thing for me to do is return the favor. We’ll have a dinner or something and keep up our charade until Oleg is content to move forward without requiring me to marry his daughter.”

  I don’t reply right away, finishing up my message to Tracy. Since I’m in Diego’s good graces, I don’t say anything risky. I keep it light and simple, assuring Tracy that I’m all right and asking her how business is before telling her I’ll return to work soon. Diego reads over the text before sending it.

  I want to ask him if I’m lying to Tracy, or if he’ll ever allow me to go back to Belleza. But I don’t want to push my luck. If I can earn other privileges, then I can figure out a way for him to let me run my business. I just need to wait for the right time.

  “Is this how it’s always done?” I ask instead. “Arranged marriages? It seems really … old-fashioned.”

  “As a group, mafia men are old-fashioned. But, no, it’s not typical. Most marriages happen within mafia families, not between them. The exceptions are situations like this—when two families are trying to work out an alliance.”

  “It doesn’t seem fair to either of you.”

  “In this business, fairness is rarely part of the equation. It’s about men trying to gain the most they can without giving up too much ground.”

  “So, you’re telling me this is really a dick-measuring contest?”

  Diego gives one of those strained half-smiles. “Precisely. Oleg just needs a little more time to understand who has the bigger dick.”

  My eyes fall to his lap and the fabric covering his crotch. Embarrassment floods me when Diego catches me staring and laughs.

  “Careful, gatita,” he murmurs when I turn away and squeeze my eyes shut, humiliated. “You know what happens when you play with fire.”

  The low warning in his voice sends two opposite reactions racing through me—arousal and fear. I knew the first time I laid eyes on Diego that he would burn me. What I never counted on was being tempted to leap into the flames.

  I clench my jaw and remain silent for the rest of the drive, my head aching from too many thoughts at once. Diego has let me know without words that he wants me. In the beginning that scared me, because I couldn’t be sure what he was capable of. Really, I still don’t know, but I think the chances of him killing me were cut in half when I agreed to his new terms. With us living in such close quarters, it seems inevitable for him to cross the line. Will I make things harder on myself by fighting it? If giving him what he wants will make him ‘generous’, there’s a chance letting him have his way with me could be my way out. Maybe not right away, but after I’ve taken smaller things inch by inch.

  I have a lot to gain, but even more to lose. Diego is a hard man—controlling, vengeful, and hot-headed. I want to think I’d be in control by making the first move, but the small voice in the back of my mind whispers that I’m fooling myself. Diego will be in control, and once I allow him access to my body, what else will he consume? What will be left of me?

  By the time the car comes to a stop, I’m more confused than ever and exhausted by a long night. Diego helps me from the car, then releases my hand and marches toward the house without a look back. He doesn’t seem worried that I’ll try to run, confident in my fear and our agreement.

  Before I go to follow, Jovan steps in my path. He’s more serious than I’ve ever seen him, his eyes somber and his mouth pinched.

  “He has a thing for you,” he says, jerking his head toward Diego’s back. “I don’t know why, but he’s fucking losing his mind over you.”

  I roll my eyes and try to move past him. “He’s thinking with his dick. That’s all.”

  Jovan blocks my way. “He can have any woman he wants but hasn’t touched anyone since you came here. He’s had every reason to kill you, but finds a way out of it every time. I know Diego better than anyone, so allow me to give you a word of advice. If you’re smart, you’ll use that to your advantage. It might save your life.”

  I fold my arms over my chest. “The agreement we made already did that.”

  “I guess that’s true for now. Once you stop being useful, your agreement will mean nothing. Unless … oh, I don’t know … he’s getting what he really wants from you.”

  This time Jovan stands down when I shove past him, annoyed and conflicted. He might be right, but I don’t like being reminded how uncertain my situation is. As if I could ever forget.

  “Just food for thought,” Jovan calls out after me.

  Ignoring him, I hurry to catch up with Diego. He’s waiting for me at the front door with a questioning look, but he doesn’t ask what Jovan said to me.

  I’m on edge all the way to his bedroom, dreading what might happen and still wrestling with a final decision.

  I pause just inside and hold my breath, watching Diego shrug out of his jacket and then loosen his tie. He isn’t looking at me and he doesn’t say a word, so I sit to take off my shoes. By the time I finish, he’s gone. Through a slight crack in the bathroom door, I hear the shower start up and then the rustle of clothes.

  Falling onto my back, I close my eyes and try to untangle my thoughts. Nothing makes sense and no choice feels like the right one. But I have to do something. I can’t just sit around waiting for Diego to push or pull me in one direction or the other. I need to make a move, and soon, or Jovan’s prediction may come true sooner rather than later.

  I sit up and glance at the bathroom door. Steam wafts through the crack, and the patter of water on tiles is all I can hear.

  You know what happens when you play with fire.

  His warning should scare me, but I choose to accept it as a challenge. Diego isn’t the only one with fire inside him, and I’m not the only one capable of being burned.

  Before I can talk myself out of it, I slip the thin straps of my dress off my shoulders, then push down the matching thong. I work up confidence I don’t really feel on my way to the bathroom, my hands trembling and my pulse thumping hard in my throat. Shutting down my thoughts gives me the last push I need to walk into the bathroom.

  I can see Diego through the shower glass—every inch of him gloriously naked and glistening. The shower jets are affixed in the walls as well as overhead, so he’s being soaked from every angle, water battering him like a churning storm. My insides melt and my nipples tingle as I take in the parts of him I’ve never seen before. Diego is all hard muscle, lines of definition collecting rivulets of water as they roll down his sculpture-worthy body. His back is dark with ink, but I can’t make out the designs from here. His ass is tight and firm, and his thighs are powerful.

  I’m still dazzled, staring with a slack jaw, when the water suddenly shuts off. I blink, and Diego’s standing just outside the shower, holding a white towel.
His eyes go molten as he looks me over, taking his time and lingering on my most intimate parts. My inner channel clenches and my clit throbs as his eyes linger on my pussy, the skin freshly waxed. His chest rises and falls with each breath, his nostrils flaring. Beads of water trickle down his body, and I can’t help following them until I’m staring at his cock.

  Holy fuck. Even flaccid it’s huge—long and thick and hanging against his thigh. It starts to stir while he looks at me, filling with blood and rising to attention. I squeeze my thighs together and bite my lip, feeling like I might faint.

  “See something you like, gatita?” he asks, the raspy quality of his voice like a stroke of hands over my naked skin.

  I swallow and try to make my tongue move, but I can’t manage words. Now that I’m here, uncertainty has taken over again. I’ve become a deer in the headlights, helpless and at the mercy of the man with the power to destroy me.

  He finishes drying off and drops his towel, approaching me with slow steps. “Is this what you came for?” he teases, taking hold of his cock and giving it a stroke. It grows harder, the tip swelling and flushing red. I can feel my own wetness on the insides of my thighs, and I’m lost to that unexplainable, magnetic pull. “Is it, Elena? You want me to bend you over and stuff you full of this cock?”

  His words are disgusting and crude, and hot as all hell. Yes, I want to tell him. Yes, that’s what I want.

  He’s close enough now that I can see beads of water clinging to his long, spiky eyelashes. “I told you to be careful,” he continues, reaching out to clutch the back of my neck. Heat radiates from him like a furnace. “I warned you, but I don’t think you really understood.”

  I choke on a gasp as he whips me around and pushes me against the vanity to face the mirror. He holds a fistful of my hair while crowding my back, pressing my thighs into the cool porcelain. His tight grip has me up on my toes, my neck yanked back so I’m forced to confront our reflection. He looks larger naked, every rope of muscle and inch of skin both threatening and tantalizing.