4. Dangerous Familiarities #3
Every word I speak drips with resolve. There’s no turning back now.
I stalk through the crowd, the beat of the club thrumming in my chest. Each step brings me closer to the table where Seb has now joined Eve and her friends. He’s flirting with Olivia, laughter bubbling between them like champagne—too light, too carefree for the darkness lurking around us.
Seb leans closer to Olivia, that trademark charm of his in full swing. I glare, my jaw tightening as I shake my head. What the hell is he doing? He’s flirting with fire, and I won’t let him get burned—especially not with her.
“Sebastian,” I call out, forcing authority into my voice as I reach their table.
He glances up, a playful smirk dancing on his lips before it falters under my stare. “Hey, big bro,” he chirps like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
I keep my expression hard as I stop beside Eve. I feel her green eyes on me, but I don’t look down. I’ll deal with her in a minute. I turn sharply toward Seb, not masking my irritation. “You need to back off.”
“Back off?” he replies, raising an eyebrow. “Come on, Zeke. She’s just here having a good time.”
“She’s not your plaything,” I snap back at him.
Olivia shifts in her seat, glancing between us with curiosity tinged with discomfort. I can almost see her processing everything—my anger and Seb’s casual dismissal of it. She knows what this life is like and that she too could pay a steep price for being with Seb.
“She can handle herself,” Seb shoots back defiantly. “Besides, we were just filling Eve in on how we all know each other.”
I suppress a growl rising in my throat. We don’t have time for this right now. The mafia families are here tonight—Eve’s in danger—and flirting with Olivia isn’t just reckless. It could jeopardize all our lives.
“Not tonight,” I say sharply enough that it leaves no room for argument. “You know this is dangerous.”
His smile fades entirely now as reality sinks in.
Deciding to deal with my brother later, I grab Eve by the arm. The heat radiating off her skin ignites a spark of something I can’t quite name. “We need to talk.”
She tries to yank free from my grip, her anger flaring. “Let me go, Zeke. I don’t want to talk to you.”
“Trust me, you want to come with me,” I say, wrapping my arm around her waist and holding her close in the way a couple in love would do. Thankfully, she doesn’t fight me. I steer her through the crowd and up the stairs toward my office.
My heart hammers—not from the thrill of her presence but from the urgency of the situation. This isn’t just a casual outing. It’s a damn minefield.
“Why? So you can tell me how little I meant to you?” She hurls the words back at me, fury dancing in those same emerald eyes that used to spark something more intimate.
I push open the door to my office and pull her inside, slamming it shut behind us. The thud reverberates like a gunshot in my chest. “Your cover is blown.”
She glares at me, chest heaving as she crosses her arms defiantly. “What are you talking about?”
“Giovanni Costa recognized you from your undercover operation. You know who he is, right?” The words come out clipped and tense. “He thinks you’re someone else—a hooker.”
Her expression shifts from anger to confusion, fear creeping in around the edges. “What? I’m not—”
“Marcus Barone knows who you really are,” I interrupt sharply. I don’t bother explaining who he is. If she’s a good cop, then she knows just as much about Marcus as I do. “That means they’ll target you. It’s not just your job on the line—it’s your life.”
My words are like an anchor as she processes what this means. For a moment, she falters, eyes wide as she grasps how deep this rabbit hole goes.
“No, no, no. I wear a wig. There’s no way he recognized me.” Her voice is stronger than before, though I see my warning has shaken her.
“He did.” My voice is firm, leaving no room for doubt.
She turns pale as snow. “Fuck,” she whispers and shoves her hands into her hair.
I take a step closer to her, resting my hand on her shaking arm. “Did Olivia tell you who I am?”
“A little.” She meets my gaze, the fear in her eyes nearly guts me. “Said you used to have connections to the mafia. Is that why you left me without a word last year? Because I’m a cop and you’re a criminal?”
I give her a single nod. “I left that life, but it still haunts me. Threatens to suck me back in, and right now, it’s threatening you.”
“I’m just doing my job,” she whispers.
“And I’m doing mine.” My tone softens as I fight against that underlying urge to keep control of everything around me. “I’m trying to protect you.”
Her jaw clenches as she suppresses her fear. I can tell she’s wrestling with disbelief and resentment all at once. The fight in her makes me admire her more than ever—but this isn’t about admiration. It’s about survival.
“Do you think I need protecting?” she asks, her voice calm and cool.
“Yes,” I reply, an edge of desperation creeping into my voice. “Right now? Yes.”
Our eyes lock and something passes between us—something visceral and raw. There’s determination in her eyes but there’s something else there too—defiance maybe—and it’s pulling me closer to her.
My lips burn to feel hers again. To taste her. Make her mine in the way I just claimed she was to the local mafia.
I shouldn’t kiss her. I know I shouldn’t. But the fire in her eyes and the way her chest heaves with each breath has my control slipping. Before I can stop myself, I grab her face between my hands and crush my mouth to hers.
She gasps against my lips, her body going rigid for a split second before melting into me. Her fingers curl into my shirt, pulling me closer as she opens to me. The taste of her—gin and something sweeter—floods my senses.
I back her up against my desk, my hands sliding down her sides to grip her hips.
Her body trembles beneath my touch, igniting a primal need deep in my core.
She moans softly when I lift her onto the polished wood surface, stepping between her thighs.
The heat of her skin burns through the thin fabric of her dress as her legs wrap around my waist, drawing me in until there’s no space left between us.
My fingers dig into her flesh, claiming what’s mine.
Mine .
She lets out a deep moan that echoes through my office and my cock comes to life, straining against my zipper. The sound of her pleasure sets my blood on fire, awakening something dark and possessive inside me.
“Fuck, I missed you.” I growl against her mouth, one hand tangling in her hair while the other slides up her thigh, pushing her dress higher. Her skin is just as soft as I remember.
She bites my bottom lip in response, her nails scraping against my scalp as she pulls me deeper into the kiss. The little sounds she makes shoot straight to my groin. I want to take her right here on my desk—fuck her like I own her pussy—consequences be damned.
Fisting her hair in my hands, I tug her head back and bite down on her neck, not caring if it leaves a mark.
I want to mark her. I want the world to know who she belongs to.
The primal need to claim her rushes through my veins like fire.
Every soft whimper that escapes her lips only fuels my possessive desire to brand her as mine, to leave evidence of my touch on her delicate skin for everyone to see.
But I can’t. Not with what I need to tell her.
With more willpower than I knew I possessed, I break the kiss and rest my forehead against hers. We’re both breathing hard, her chest pressing against mine.
“Evelyn,” I say roughly, sliding my hands down her sides and gripping her hips, “there’s something else.”
She tries to pull me back in for another kiss, grinding her hot pussy against the bulge in my pants, but I resist. Her eyes flutter open, confusion clouding their emerald depths.
“When Gio recognized you … I had to think fast.” I hold my breath as I brace myself for her reaction. Eve is an independent and strong woman. She’s not going to like this. “I told him you were my fiancée.”
She goes completely still in my arms, her expression frozen as the words sink in.