CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Connor
A fter a particularly brutal and bloody week, I brusquely push through the revolving doors of The Sterling hotel where my sister Sabine lives and works with her billionaire husband, actor Grayson Hart.
It’s the first time in days I’ve not been covered in blood and had a moment to think about something other than gruesome torture and death.
Sabine and her sisters-in-law funded an exhibit for their husbands to celebrate the hotel’s thirtieth anniversary. My entire family is here to support the passion project she’d been talking about for months.
And I’m late. As usual.
But I stop in my tracks, spotting Raina in the lobby.
I’m certain this isn’t a coincidence. But if she’s been fired from the DEA, why is she still hunting me?
My throat tightens. Could she just want to fuck me again? All this cat and mouse seems like a waste of time. All she has to do is knock on my damn door.
Was it more than sex for her, too?
One thought sharpens in my mind. Despite the warning to stay away from her and the potential risk she poses to Quinlan Empire, I should deal with her directly.
And by deal with her directly, I mean with my cock in her mouth until I get answers as to why she keeps turning up wherever I go.
Raina lingers in front of one of the many black-and-white photographs framed in glass and set up on easels that snake all over the hotel lobby. With a small purse tucked under one arm, she stares curiously at a particular image with something close to reverence .
Watching her from behind one of the many stone pillars in the lobby, I see she’s taken an interest in a photograph of a dude in a hard hat, standing with three little boys in matching safety hats amidst the rubble of construction.
With Raina focused on the photo, a man with light brown hair sidles up beside her.
“That was during the renovation,” he says, tapping the glass.
Raina turns toward him, her chin tilting up to meet his height. The guy looks to be around six-foot-four of menacing charm and tailored smugness.
“This hotel is magnificent,” she says.
“It used to be a church,” he tells her, looking like he wants to give her a personal tour of a guestroom’s king-size bed.
I know the sound of a sleazy come-on. I’m the master. Or, I used to be until this bird flew into my coop, and now she’s all I fucking think about.
But Raina smiles at the interaction. I swear, the voices in my head go quiet. I feel like I’ve been sucker-punched in the ribs.
“That’s incredible,” she says.
Oh yeah, Venom? Is HE incredible, too?
Do you like ridiculously tall, well-groomed men who don’t kill people for a living? I know all the mob bosses in this city. This smooth operator isn’t one of them, even if I can’t see his face.
My chest is pounding watching her light up for someone who isn’t fucking me .
Raina steps back from the exhibit to admire the lobby.
This hotel is grand, I will give the Harts that. Muraled ceilings. Stained glass windows. Polished floors. Velvet furniture. All of it means fuck-all when the woman I’m crazy about is smiling at this clown and he’s standing too fucking close .
I tune back in, calculating when to interrupt without looking like a jealous psycho.
“Are you looking for someone?” the scumbag asks her, all warm and helpful.
Yeah, she’s looking FOR ME. And you're in the fucking way.
She shakes her head, radiant and cool. “Just taking it all in.”
“Do you like the exhibit?” the guy asks with his golden retriever energy drooling on my fucking woman.
“It’s fascinating,” she plays along. “I love architectural history.”
You also love guns, knives, and chasing dangerous drug lords into vacant apartments because you’re unhinged like me.
“Oh yeah?” Mr. Charm asks.
Glowing under the lights, Raina replies, “I was strolling by, saw the sign for the exhibit, and figured, why not?”
I cackle. You little fucking liar. She’s perjuring herself with that sweet and sultry voice that I remember gagging on my cum.
God, I love her.
My sight goes hazy.
I shouldn’t feel anything close to love.
Irrational jealousy? Thinking about where I can bury this dosser? Sure. That’s possession. Not love.
This bird is mine.
But he’s talking to her, and I’m behind a column, vibrating with jealousy, itching to tear apart this guy, and I don’t even know him. Just to get him away from a conversation he didn’t earn.
I can’t breathe. I want to drag her out of this hotel and lock her somewhere no one else can touch her. And because I don’t know how to act rationally, I look around until I find a couple who has hotel guest written all over them.
The couple scrolls on their phones as they head toward the elevators.
My heartbeat is erratic at this massive risk I’m taking.
I do it anyway.
I cut them off with a smile that doesn’t reach my eyes.
“Evening,” I say smoothly. “You staying here?”
They nod, startled.
“Do... Do you work here?” The man gives me a once-over.
The suit helps my lie.
Two people can tell dangerous lies, baby.
“Aye. Which room?” I ask, gaze flicking toward the elevators.
The man hesitates. “Uh, 1502?”
“Name?” When the guy goes white, I lean in. “Give me what I need, and you’ll walk out of here alive.”
Swallowing harshly, he says, “Mirz.”
“Thanks,” I say with a nod. “Appreciate it. Enjoy your evening.”
I pull out my phone and dial the front desk from a blocked number.
“Thank you for calling The Sterling. Good evening, this is Ainsley,” the receptionist chirps.
“Hello,” I use an American accent, pitching my voice to sound just agitated enough, “Name’s Mirz.
I’m in room 1502. My wife was just touched inappropriately in your lobby at the exhibit.
The guy’s still down there talking to a blonde in a denim dress.
Get him off the premises, or I’ll call the cops.
You don’t want that kind of bad publicity. ”
“Sir, are you sure?”
“I paid four grand for a suite here. I didn’t pay for my wife to get fucking groped.”
“I’ll alert security immediately, sir. Thank you for the report.” Ainsley hangs up.
I end the call and head back toward the exhibit, giggling, dying to see this guy dragged out of here by his fancy shoes.
Raina is still talking to this poor bastard who may end up sleeping at Riker’s Island tonight.
As I stride toward my woman, I clock my sister rushing toward the exhibit, looking stressed with a handheld radio in her fist.
They called the fucking head of security? Not one of the linebacker-sized dudes she hired?
Now I’m a touch worried about the dosser. And when I get closer, I get a better look at who’s been flirting with Raina.
Oh, fuck my life.
“Tristan?” Sabine calls out to her brother-in-law.
Her married brother-in-law, who is part owner of the hotel.
He turns around at the sound of my sister’s troubled voice. “What’s wrong, Sabine?”
Sabine looks Raina up and down, matching the description of the woman I described as practically being pinned to one of these photographs by a creep.
“We got a strange call.” Sabine leans in and whispers into Tristan’s ear.
Tristan’s face flushes. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Miss, are you all right?” Sabine asks Raina with an anxious expression.
Raina blinks, and her smile melts into a frown. “Yes. I’m fine. Why?”
I head that way, the marble underfoot doesn’t make a sound, but the force of my arrival does. Sabine turns her head as I stride headstrong into the mix. I need to cool off before I do something that will make her disown me.
My sister risked everything to be with Grayson. She lives in their world, not ours. Their family welcomed her. If I rearranged Tristan’s pretty face, I would have gotten the beating of my life from Sabine in my tunnel.
Tristan’s shoulders stiffen, and Raina goes rigid. She can sense that shift in the air, that heat of knowing she was being watched.
Her eyes tunnel into my skin with a flicker of recognition. Color rises in her cheeks, and it hits me like a bullet to the chest. Grinning, I turn my gaze to Tristan.
“Don’t you have a wife to flirt with, Hart?” My voice slices through the space like a blade.
Sharp. Unforgiving.
In pure Quinlan investigatory fashion, where Sabine cut her teeth as a PI working for us years ago, she studies me and then Raina. My sister shoots me a look of condemnation that is part terrifying and part hilarious.
Tristan gives a hearty laugh, clapping my shoulder like I didn’t threaten to kill his brother seven years ago. “I’m just being polite to a guest. It’s called hospitality, Quinlan.”
I want to say the people who visit my domain don’t leave alive, so I don’t have to worry about keeping them fucking comfortable. But I don’t.
“How do you all know each other?” Raina asks, adorably confused.
“This is my sister, Sabine. She’s the head of security here,” I say with caution.
“Welcome to The Sterling.” My sister’s eyes narrow just slightly as if she’s catching something quietly blooming in the space between Raina and me.
Pinching her elbow, I whisper, “Stand down, lass. It was just a misunderstanding.”
“Sure thing, Mr. Mirz. ” She stalks away to her office, shaking her fiery red waves.
To look relatively sane, I turn to the photo that had these two all sentimental and say, “That your da, Hart?”
Tristan winks, sensing I’m trying to save myself. “Yeah. This hotel meant everything to him. Sometimes too much. He neglected his family for it.”
Raina’s mouth softens. “I’m sorry.”
“He’s gone now.” Tristan waves it off and politely finishes talking. “That’s me and my brothers in the photo. We own the hotel now.”
“Your mother must be proud of you.” Raina darts her eyes between me and Tristan.
“She is.” Tristan grins at her. “Because we’re nothing like our rotten father.”
I don’t have that luxury. I’m everything like my father, but the worst version of him. My brothers are cold and lethal. And I’m territorial. I was seconds away from getting loud and wrecking a perfectly innocent interaction.
Do I have it in me to be anything else?
A pause catches my attention.
“My mom died last year and I never knew my father,” Raina says, and I flinch.
Jesus. Poor woman. That’s why she’s so good at pretending she’s fine. She’s been living with that missing piece of herself her whole life.
“I’m Tristan Hart, by the way. COO of the hotel.” He reaches out to shake Raina’s hand. “You?”
Oh, please lie, Raina. I’d KILL to hear you lie to him.
She clears her throat. “Raina.”
She lied to me. Not him. Interesting.
“Connor Quinlan,” I say, and grip her hand from his to keep up the ruse that we’ve never met.
“Nice to meet you as well.”
“And yes, I’ll go check on my wife,” Tristan says, straightening his tie.
“Tell the lass I said hello.” I smile .
“Will do.” Not that she’ll remember me.
Or maybe she will. She was here when my brothers and I stormed this place looking to hurt Grayson.
“Yours?” Tristan whispers, nodding toward Raina.
That smug bastard’s voice rolls out, smooth and slow. The kind that used to peel off panties on hook-up cruises before he got married.
I don’t blink. “I’m working on it, dosser.”
“Work harder.” Tristan bows his head and spins on his expensive shoes.
Tristan strides away, glancing at me over his shoulder with a wry smile. He’s already figured out that this lass has me in knots, and I’ll do anything to make her mine. And I just gave him a story to laugh about later with his brothers and their wives.
Raina doesn’t move. Neither do I.
“You keep showing up in the most interesting places, Raina . Storm. I get it. Clever.”
She straightens, schooling her face into something blank and mysterious. “Maybe you keep showing up where I am.”
I step closer, letting my voice dip to the right volume for brushing my lips against the shell of her ear. “You know, I was disappointed when you didn’t show up at the dessert table last week.”
She feigns outrage. “I didn’t realize I needed your permission to leave early. Plus, a girl has to watch her calories.”
“Don’t you fucking dare. You’re flawless.” I chuckle, low and amused. “To me. And I expected better from you.”
“Better how?”
I grin. “Like a reliable stray cat I fed once.”
“Excuse me?” She narrows her eyes. “Fed how?”
“With my cock,” I growl. “I gave your pussy a little cream. A little attention. Next thing I know, she keeps showing up for more.”
Raina’s eyebrows jut into her hairline. “Are you saying I’m clingy and desperate?”
“I’m saying I’m surprised you’re not rubbing up against my leg right now.”
Her lips part with a sharp exhale that could signal I’ve offended her or amused her. “You are full of yourself.”
“Cocky, yes. Pardon the pun.” I step back. “And you’re still standing here.”
“Maybe I am obsessed with your cream.” Her eyes scan me differently than before.
The slow track across my body is something I fucking feel.
Shaking free of our connected stare, she turns her attention to another photo in the exhibit. “The transformation of this hotel was amazing. I love renovations. Before and after, don’t you?”
I study the image, then her. “I like watching things burn first.”
Her breath hitches. Enough for me to notice.
She tilts her chin, her gaze flicking over me. “Especially when you light the match?”
I move closer, not touching her, but letting her feel the heat coming off me. “That question excites me more than it should.”
Her lips part. “I bet it does.”
“I have access to a villa here at the hotel anytime I want. Come upstairs with me.” The words are soft and coaxing. “Just for a little while.”
She laughs. “There you go, feeding the stray again.”
The fantasy of me feeding her my cock while she’s tied to my headboard knocks me sideways and steals my breath. “Maybe I want to keep you for good.”
For a beat, she doesn’t move. Doesn’t breathe .
“I’ll consider your offer. For another night.” Then she steps back. “Good night, Connor.”
She turns on her heel and walks off, slipping through the crowd with a grace that tightens my chest.
I wait a few seconds, then follow her. But when I push through the hotel doors, the sidewalk is a blur of movement. Dozens of people are waiting to get in. Tourists wander by. Cabs are honking.
I let out a slow breath, my pulse still thrumming with the phantom heat of her.
Raina’s gone.
But I’m pretty sure I know just where to find her.