Beastly Boss (Caparelli Crime Family #4)

1. Aurelio

AURELIO

“ J ust one more hour,” I mutter to myself as I take a sip of my bourbon. At least the alcohol is top shelf. It almost makes coming to these things tolerable. Almost.

The Las Vegas Policemen’s Ball has been held annually for over fifty years, and a mafia boss has been present at every single one. For the past decade, it’s been me.

I down the last of my drink and search for Andrew Olsen, the Police Lieutenant.

The ballroom is flooded with officers in their formal uniforms, some giving me dirty looks while others avert their eyes.

They know who I am. They know the power I hold.

Like Moses, the sea of blue parts for me as I embark on my next mission.

I spot Lt. Olsen by the buffet table, filling up his plate. At least he’s taking advantage of the thousands of dollars worth of food being served.

Before I get a chance to announce my presence, a flash of dark green momentarily distracts me.

I turn in that direction, dumbstruck by the enchanting woman in a silky emerald dress.

The material clings to her ample chest and flows down her wide hips like a waterfall.

I want to outline her curves with my fingers and my tongue.

With round, rosy cheeks, a slightly upturned nose, and full lips, she radiates innocence and beauty – the exact opposite of me.

The woman’s midnight black hair is swept to one side, revealing her slender neck.

I get the sudden urge to kiss her there. I wonder what she tastes like?

Taking a deep breath, I shake those thoughts from my mind and refocus on the task at hand. I can’t afford to get distracted, especially when the Caparelli Family is at such a crucial turning point.

“Lieutenant Olsen,” I say after stepping up next to him.

The broad-shouldered man turns to face me with a stoic look in his eyes. He’s trying to appear strong and unaffected by my presence, though we both know who’s in charge.

“Aurelio,” he greets me. We shake hands, and I follow him to a less populated area of the ballroom. “It always amuses me to see you in a room full of cops.”

“I don’t have a problem with the police force here in Vegas. Well, most of them.” I glance over at Lt. Olsen, who nods. He knows what I’m referring to.

“Yes, we’ve had a few men make some… regrettable choices as of late.” He looks around the room to ensure no one is listening in. “I’m working on dismantling the inner circle of rebel cops,” he murmurs before taking a bite of his crab cake.

“Not fast enough,” I grunt.

“These things take time. I can’t very well fire everyone who has a negative thing to say about the Caparellis.”

“I thought your title meant you could do exactly that.”

The man huffs out a dry laugh and rolls his eyes.

“I wouldn’t have my title for very long if I made a rash decision like that.

You have to understand things work differently on this side of the law.

” I shoot him a side glance and raise an eyebrow.

The mere fact that he’s talking this candidly to a mafia boss means he’s not exactly a paragon of virtue. “You know what I mean.”

“Fine. Can you at least tell me what you’re doing to punish the fuckers who keep trying to shoot my men and raid my compound?”

“Two officers have been suspended, and two more have been fired. Three officers in the inner circle have been assigned to a desk doing bullshit bureaucratic busy work. If they don’t burn out after a few months, I’ll find a reason to suspend them, too.”

I nod once, absorbing this information. I open my mouth to ask another question when the stunning woman from earlier catches my eye again.

She’s headed this way, her eyes meeting mine for the first time.

They’re otherworldly, with specs of green, gray, and brown swirling together to create a unique hazel color.

The closer she gets, the faster my heart races. Is she coming over here to talk to me? Do I affect her as much as she’s affecting me? Why do I care? What is wrong with me?

To my shock and dismay, she stands next to Lt. Olsen. How the hell did this dumpy fuck attract someone as radiant as her?

“Aurelio, this is my daughter, Kimbra.”

Daughter? Shit.

“Hi,” she says, the simple word weaving its way through my veins.

“Kimbra,” I repeat, holding out my hand.

She slips her much smaller one in mine, and I swear my heart stops beating for a second when we make contact.

Instead of simply shaking her hand, I lift it to my lips and press a kiss to her knuckles.

I can’t say I’ve ever done that before, nor did I plan to do it at this moment, but something about this woman is getting my wires crossed.

I can’t seem to think straight when she’s next to me.

I peer up at her with my lips still on her skin, those hazel eyes locked on mine. She seems as dumb-struck as I am, which is why I have to leave.

“Excuse me,” I clip out, dropping her hand from mine. Her brow furrows, and I hate the thought of upsetting her, but this is for the best. I don’t have the patience or energy for a relationship or even a fling right now. Especially not with the fuckin’ daughter of the police Lieutenant.

I push my way through the crowd, grabbing a champagne flute from a nearby tray, then beeline toward the balcony. I need fresh air and possibly a lobotomy.

Once outside, I take a deep breath, letting the warm air fill my lungs.

What was that all about? I’ve never had that reaction to a woman before.

Plenty of women have thrown themselves at me for power, money, or a fun night with an attractive man.

I’m not vain; I simply know how people perceive me.

I don’t waste what precious free time I have on one-night stands.

Hell, I can’t even remember the last time I was with a woman.

I lean against the balcony, resting my elbows on the ornately carved stone ledge.

I’m not sure how much time has passed, but I sense someone walking up behind me.

As the head of the most prominent and feared mafia family in Vegas, I’m hyper-aware of my surroundings at all times.

My enemies are plentiful and relentless.

“You look about as bored as I feel,” a familiar voice says. It can’t be the woman from earlier. Surely, I’m hallucinating. The fresh air clearly didn’t help, so a lobotomy it is, then.

Even though I’m half convinced I made the voice up, I turn around to make sure. There she is, in her gorgeous emerald gown that highlights the green in her eyes. Fuck me, her little smirk has my dick twitching to life for the first time in God knows how long.

“My dad always drags me to these things, so we have an excuse to leave early,” Kimbra continues.

I can’t seem to scrape up a single word in my vocabulary to add to the conversation. This woman has me tongue-tied for the first time in my entire life.

“Do you have kids?”

I choke out a cough at her question, then clear my throat as I try to recover. “No,” I say in a gravelly, scratchy tone. “No kids.” Though, if I did have a kid, they might be her age. That thought should send me running in the opposite direction. She’s too damn young for me. “How old are you?”

The question sounds more like an interrogation. In my defense, I usually talk to thugs and mafia men. I don’t have much experience with this kind of interaction.

“Twenty-two,” Kimbra answers with a smile.

“College?”

Her eyes sparkle as they latch onto mine like she’s pleased she got me to talk to her. Jesus, she’s nearly twenty years younger than me. Too young. Too innocent. Too… vulnerable. What kind of monster would take advantage of that?

“I’m a senior at the University of Southern Nevada, studying botany. I know, I know. Weird major for living in a desert climate.” She gives me a self-deprecating smile.

“Flowers?”

“Among other plants, algae, and fungi,” she confirms. “I’m working on my final project right now, and then I’ll be all done.”

“Final project?” Great job, buddy. Two whole words at the same time.

“I’m cross-pollinating two plants, hoping to grow a new hybrid that’s both durable and beautiful.

The thistle plant, or Cirsium spinosissimum , has hard, spiky leaves and thorns.

Its armor makes it strong and enables it to thrive in dry, rocky environments.

I’m hoping to merge those qualities with the dahlia flower.

It’s fascinating because dahlias have eight homologous chromosomes. Eight! ”

I can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm over plant chromosomes, whatever that means. Kimbra’s cheeks flush slightly, and she looks down at the ground.

“Sorry, I geek out about my nerdy plant stuff far too often. I sometimes forget most people have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“Not geeky, passionate,” I correct her. She rewards me with a smile so bright I’m nearly blinded.

We don’t say anything for a few moments, but it’s not awkward—just the opposite.

I’m… comfortable around her, even in the silence.

It’s a strange feeling, especially with a near stranger.

I notice Kimbra picking at a thread in the bodice of her dress.

I watch in fascination as she yanks on the green fabric and breaks the thread with a snap.

She finds another loose thread and does the same thing, then she lays the two pieces out on the stone balcony.

“Why?” I ask, nodding to the emerald-colored thread. Great, now I’ve reverted to being monosyllabic.

“My mom always did this. Whenever we had a loose thread or scrap fabric for whatever reason, she’d lay it out on our back porch for the birds to use for nest building.

It was always fun and magical to see the different colors in the nests around the neighborhood.

” She shrugs as if it’s just another memory, but after years of working with her father, I happen to know she lost her mother at a young age.

“I guess it was our way of adding beauty to the world.”

“You’ve already added so much beauty to mine.” Where the hell did that come from?

“What?”

Shit. I don’t know how to explain that, so instead, I say the first thing that pops into my head to distract her. “Dance with me,” I suddenly demand.

“Really?” At first, I think she’s shutting me down, which is fair.

We’re not even in the ballroom; we’re hanging out on the balcony.

“I have to warn you, I don’t have a lot of experience.

” I raise an eyebrow at her, unable to contain the smirk on my lips.

I have no doubt she’s inexperienced in more ways than one.

“I meant with dancing,” she says, playfully hitting me in the chest. I’ve broken men’s arms for doing the same thing, but everything is different with Kimbra.

I hold out my hand as the band starts up another song. From out here, the music is faint, but I don’t mind. Kimbra places her delicate hand in mine for the second time tonight, making my heart momentarily stop once more.

I pull Kimbra’s curvy body against mine, adjusting our position so one hand is on my shoulder and the other is held in my hand, off to the side.

I rest my free hand on her hip so I can gently guide her.

We sway back and forth, getting used to the rhythm of the music.

“Follow my lead,” I whisper into the shell of her ear.

Kimbra’s pulse throbs on the side of her neck, her breathing growing shallow at my words. God, I want to kiss that spot. It’s the same urge I had when I first laid eyes on her.

I take a step backward, and Kimbra moves with me, taking a step forward. “Good girl.” I’m not sure where those words came from, but the woman in my arms trembles slightly at my praise. God, what that does to me.

We take it slow as I lead us in a simple waltz box step. Kimbra keeps looking at our feet, trying to mimic my motions.

She steps on my toes a few times and shakes her head in frustration. “See? I told you I’m not much of a dancer.”

She tries spinning out of my arms, but I tighten my hold on her, sliding both of my hands to her lower back. “Don’t think about the steps; just feel the music. Feel the way we move together. Let go of the details and be here in the moment.”

Kimbra bites her bottom lip and searches my eyes for something. Is she deciding whether to trust me or not? She shouldn’t trust me, but damn if I don’t want her to. She places both hands on my shoulders while I keep her anchored to me.

She’s a bit stiff at first but then relaxes when I brush my fingers up and down her spine. The dress she’s in leaves most of her back exposed, and I can’t help indulging myself in smoothing my hands over her soft, creamy skin.

After a few moments, Kimbra circles her arms around my neck and melts against me. It’s a tender moment despite the dirty thoughts I’ve been having about her all night.

“Do you trust me?” I murmur.

“Yes,” comes her automatic response.

It pleases me greatly to hear that.

I slide my hand up her back, resting it between her shoulder blades while the other spreads over her lower back for support.

I step forward and guide Kimbra to lean back, letting me dip her backward.

She gasps and fists the back of my neck, letting out a soft laugh.

Kimbra arches her back, opening herself up enough for me to lean forward and ghost my lips across her exposed throat.

“Kimbra? Where did you run off to? Kimbra!” comes her father’s voice from inside the ballroom.

Kimbra tenses and lets go of my neck, which knocks her off-balance. I still have my arms around her, and I easily take her weight so she doesn’t slip through my hands – literally and metaphorically.

“I should go before he sees us,” she whispers.

I nod in agreement, though I hate the thought of not having her in my arms. “So, uh, I’m going to need to stand up on my own two feet to make that happen.

” I nod again, still lost in those hazel eyes.

“Aurelio!” she says a little more sternly, though she has an amused smile on her face. “You have to loosen your hold on me.”

Oh. Oh, right. I’m holding her captive. It takes a surprising amount of effort to untangle myself from this enchanting woman, and once I do, I shove my hands in my pockets to keep from touching her again.

“I should go,” she repeats, though it’s softer this time. Kimbra lingers for a moment longer as if wanting me to give her an excuse to stay. I can’t do that, however. It wouldn’t be fair to either of us. It’s not like we can ever share a moment like this again.

I simply nod, unable to say even a single word. She gives me one last look over her shoulder, then steps inside the ballroom, taking my heart and my sanity with her.