Chapter 9
9
ALLEGRA
C oen’s cock twitches in me.
His chest heaves against mine.
Our heavy breaths mingle as we both come down slowly from the high of our releases, trying to get our bearings and regain control of our faculties.
What the hell just happened?
My body buzzes with energy, tingling everywhere, every nerve ending flaring and sparking and making me twitch. He slides my leg down from his shoulder and his hand around my back to support me as I start to sag even more, losing my ability to stay remotely upright.
His lips flutter against my temple. “That was far better than you deserve after what you did to me.” He nips at my ear, and I shiver, clenching around him and drawing a low groan from deep in his ribcage. “But I think we should do it again.”
I can’t fight the grin that pulls at my lips or squeezing him again as his cock already starts to re-harden. “It depends on what game you want to play this time?—”
An electronic clicking sound drags his attention from me and toward the door before it pushes open.
The stunning umber-skinned woman who stands on the other side of it narrows her dark eyes on our compromised position. She tilts her head slightly, the long braids twisted high at the top of her head in a bun, moving with her.
Her gaze darts to the shattered glass on the floor beside the bar, and Coen moves to block her full view of me, but I can still see most of her if I lean to the side.
“Jesus Christ, Bishop. Knock much?”
She scowls and leans against the doorjamb, keeping it open to the small foyer and elevator. “Everyone was worried when you vanished”—she raises a black brow—“for obvious reasons.”
I try to peek around Coen to get a better view of her, but he shifts again, completely blocking my view of her or hers of me.
“Soooo…”—she drawls the word, intentionally dragging it out with a note of annoyance and maybe humor in it—“I checked where your keycard was last used.” One hand spreads wide enough for me to see it from around Coen’s protective shield. “The penthouse. You know this isn’t your own private fuck palace, don’t you?”
He grits his teeth, a muscle in his jaw flexing as his hands tighten around me, clutching me closer. “Get the fuck out.”
“We’re supposed to meet Savage, Ken, and Cass in the lobby in ten minutes. Or have you completely forgotten?”
He mutters, “shit” under his breath.
Oh, he definitely did.
Though I can’t blame him for being distracted. I certainly was from my original mission in coming here as soon as he touched me down in the lobby.
I glance up at him as he finally allows his gaze to return to mine, an apology written in it. “I’ll meet you down there.”
Bishop huffs. “If you’re not down in five minutes, I’m coming back for you.”
She lets the door close behind her and, as soon as it clicks, Coen sags, releasing a long, heavy sigh.
“Shit. I am so sorry about that…”
He’s apologizing to me? After everything I’ve done to him?
I’m not entirely sure what changed or how we went from hate-fucking to him protecting me from embarrassment and now apologizing for something that wasn’t his fault in the least.
That woman seemed equally appalled and amused at our situation in a way that only makes sense if she’s close with Coen.
“Who was she?”
He pulls back, giving me an almost annoyed look. “For all intents and purposes, my babysitter while I’m home.”
I raise a brow at him. “You need a babysitter?”
Maybe that was the wrong thing to ask, if the look he tosses at me is any indication.
He shifts his hips back, his cock slipping from inside me with a groan from him and a wince from me at the sudden loss. “It’s a long fucking story I don’t have time to tell right now, nor would I even if I did.” Taking a step back, he shoves his hand through his hair, mussing up the locks that are already in disarray from my hands. He tucks his wet cock back into his pants, zips them, and rebuckles his belt. “Stay right there.”
Where the hell else am I going to go when I’m sprawled across the bar with his cum filling me, my body still a quivering mess…
Although, I suppose there are worse places to be.
Though, maybe not ones as embarrassing as being caught literally pants down and legs spread with a dick buried in you by a total stranger.
Coen stalks over to the sink at the far end of the bar, wets a hand towel, and brings it over to me, sliding right between my legs where he just was and pressing it to my core.
It makes me shiver, despite the warmth of the water.
“Believe me, I would much rather be cleaning you up and getting you dirty again in the shower right now.” Sincerity laces his words. “But I can’t miss this meeting.”
I swallow thickly and nod as he gently cleans me in a way I wouldn’t have expected from a man who seemed so intent on doing damage only a short time ago.
When he pulls his hand away, his eyes lock with mine, and he bends down, kissing me long and slow. His tongue glides along the seam of my lips until I open for him and allow it to tangle with my own. One of those throaty groans of his curls through him, and when he tugs his mouth from mine, there is regret in his gaze, along with that glimmer of something dark and dangerous.
“I have to say, the thought of you walking around the rest of the day with my cum dripping out of you is pretty much the highlight of my existence up until now.”
Hell.
That shouldn’t be hot.
Right?
I shiver and shift off the bar, my dress falling back into place, and he’s so close, it doesn’t take more than a millisecond before our entire bodies are pressed together again. “What makes you think I won’t leave here immediately and go shower?”
He raises a brow, then reaches up and grips my chin, tilting my face to his, that intensity returning. “Because you want it there as much as I do.”
Fuck.
It.
Shouldn’t.
Be.
So.
Hot.
This growly possessiveness he is displaying today would normally be such a huge turnoff for me. I despise men who try to dominate and act like they control the world and everything in it, including me. But somehow, with Coen, it’s different.
It just is.
And my pussy, still damp with his cum, clenches, wishing he were back inside it.
He glances at his watch. “I have to go.”
I swallow. “Me too.”
Really.
I hadn’t intended to stay.
I hadn’t intended any of this to happen.
Not really.
Maybe deep down I had hoped it might, but I never believed it was actually possible, given everything that went down between us.
I move to step around him and make my way toward the door. He tosses the wet rag onto the counter and follows after me, catching my hand to tug me back just as I reach for the handle. “You’re not leaving New Orleans, are you?”
God.
There’s so much hope in his voice that I’ll say no. That I’ll tell him I’m staying.
I bite my lip as I stare up at him and melt under the plea in his eyes. “I thought you’d want me gone.”
A war rages in those fathomless blue depths—that anger and hatred he harbored for me because of my betrayal mixing with the lust we both just felt.
Still feel.
It’s a lethal combination.
One we just felt combust around us and shatter us into a zillion pieces.
He shakes his head. “I’m not sure, but I know I’m not done with you yet.”
How this man can say things like that and simultaneously sound threatening and promising is a mystery for the ages. One I would very much like to solve, given the chance. “I’m not leaving yet, if you want me to stay.”
His brow rises. “I do.”
That shouldn’t warm my heart.
Shouldn’t make it flutter so crazily like this, but somehow it does.
Just like with everything having to do with Coen Hawke, it’s a contradiction in everything that should and shouldn’t be.
The last thing I should be doing is spending any more time than necessary in New Orleans. I didn’t even book a hotel when I made the split-second decision to come.
“I have to head to my meeting. Where are you going to stay? Let me get you a room.”
I shake my head. “I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to stay here.”
His brow furrows. “Why not?”
Turning away from him, I tug on the handle, and it pops open. I motion to the lock. “Because my guess is your key card opens every door in this place.”
A slow, lewd grin spreads across his face. “Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?”
I step out into the hall, tugging him with me. “Because I understand you, Coen Hawke. And I don’t trust you one bit.”
“ You don’t trust me ?”
His brows pop up as I push the button on the elevator and lean against the wall, facing him. I release his hand and push my disheveled hair back from my face. “Why should I?”
He leans in, bracing his hand above my head. “Because, as I said, I was far too kind to you in there, kinder than you deserve… That should earn me some trust.”
If that was him being kind…
I shiver, and the elevator dings.
He steps back to allow me to turn and move into it, then immediately cages me in again, pushing me against the wall with his hard, lean body, pinning me to it.
Without tearing his gaze from mine, he reaches out and presses the button for the lobby, then kisses along my jaw in a way that has my legs trembling, even as I can feel the cum still left inside me slowly starting to seep out.
I clench my thighs together.
“So, you’re not going to tell me where you’re going to stay?”
I shake my head.
“And how will I get in touch with you?”
He won’t.
He pulls his head back, that question so similar to the one he asked me in Monaco.
I smile at him, offering him hope I didn’t then. “I’ll find you again, Mr. Hawke.”
We whoosh down, staring at each other until the elevator dings and the doors slide open.
Someone clears their throat, and Coen glances over at the four people waiting just outside the cab.
One, the woman from upstairs. Another, a stunning blonde with vibrant-blue eyes that tell me she must be a Hawke, in sky-high designer heels and a stunning pencil skirt and blouse that screams “I’m in charge.” A drop-dead gorgeous man with sandy-blond hair and a keen gaze. And another who is the spitting image of Coen, which means it must be his father or maybe his uncle.
Definitely family.
That one raises dark brows. “Aren’t you going to introduce us?”
Coen mutters a curse under his breath, takes my hand, and pulls me from the elevator to where they wait. “Allegra, this is my uncle, Savage, my cousin, Kennedy, and her husband, Cass, and you’ve already met Bishop.”
Bishop smirks at me, crossing her arms over her chest, making the insane muscles in her arms bulge slightly.
This woman is vicious.
It certainly explains why she wasn’t at all worried about going right at Coen upstairs.
I clear my throat. “Nice to meet all of you. I have to get going.”
Before the evidence of what we just did appears on my lower thighs.
I glance up at Coen. “I’ll call you.”
He nods as I start to slip away, not even bothering to ask me how I will get his number. By now, he must know I have my ways, too.
“Don’t run off so soon…” Savage’s words freeze me in my tracks, and I turn back to them. He offers me a smile that lies somewhere between friendly and concerned. “Any friend of Coen’s is a friend of ours.” He tosses his nephew a look. “Why don’t you join us for Sunday family dinner tomorrow?”
Coen’s eyes widen, and he shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s?—”
Kennedy grins, her red lips tilting in a devious way that makes me sure I was one hundred percent right in my initial impression of her. “Oh, I think that’s exactly what needs to happen.”
* * *
COEN
Even six hours later, my body still vibrates with a strange mixture of pleasure and exhaustion. Muscles twitching. Hands and cock tingling, remembering what it felt like to have Allegra in my arms, to be buried inside her. Her taste still fills my mouth and coats my tongue, her scent invading every breath I take.
On top of my encounter with the woman I thought I’d never see again, the tedious hours spent with Savage, Cass, and Kennedy—along with my new shadow, Bishop—going over the heightened security measures at the hotel as well as additional plans for the new building across the street that will open soon, I’ve been on my feet for almost sixteen hours and every fiber of my being is feeling it.
I unlock my condo door and step inside, relieved to finally have Bishop off my back, at least for the night, now that I’m locked away tight in the building guarded in the lobby on a floor accessible with a code only the Hawkes know.
Leaning back against the door, I release a long, heavy breath and let my eyes drift closed.
What a long fucking day.
All I want to do is take a hot shower, maybe relive my encounter with Allegra as I rub one out, then climb into bed and never get out.
Though, it would be a lot better if I had her with me.
Christ.
I scrub my hands over my face and push off the door.
Images flit through my head.
Fantasies that likely can never be reality.
I can’t even imagine what we’d be like in a bed together like that, with all night laid out in front of us and zero interruptions from pesky family members.
Combustible.
That’s what we would be, and I know it.
What happened in the penthouse was only a spark, ready to ignite something much bigger, something neither of us is ready for or would likely survive.
“You look tired, Coen…”
The slightly accented voice slips through the darkness of the living room, freezing me instantly. Goosebumps rise on my skin as dread coils around my spine and tightens until I can barely move, even if I wanted to.
I don’t have to be able to see in the darkness to know who it is.
Not when I would know that voice anywhere.
Any of the Hawkes would.
That’s the sound of danger.
I take a second to try to regain my composure before advancing farther into the condo until the dim moonlight trailing in from the patio windows offers enough light to see the man sitting in the leather armchair near the fireplace.
He offers me a tight smile.
“Damon”—I incline my head toward him—“to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”
He chuckles, low and deep, the sound lacking all humor and full of sinister intent. “Oh, I think you know very well what I’m here to discuss: your debt.”
I force myself to turn my back on the man, even though every instinct in me screams never to do it, but I have to show I’m not afraid of him. Even if my legs are trembling and my hands shaking as I make my way to the bar. “Drink?”
“Whatever you’re having.”
Too bad I can’t slip some cyanide into it.
That would sure solve a lot of problems, even if it created another one by setting his crew on us in retaliation.
I pour myself a bourbon and one for him, then make my way back over and offer it with an extended hand. He looks up at me, leaning back casually in the chair, and I scan the darkness of the room.
No sign of any of his guards.
Even now, with all he has done, he trusts me enough to know that I won’t try anything with him. If I did, I know what his men would do to the rest of the family.
Besides, however he got in here undetected, it would have likely been impossible with those goons who don’t know the meaning of the word discreet.
Satriano motions to the couch facing him. “Take a seat, Coen. Relax.”
I snort as I lower myself into the plush leather.
He kicks one ankle up onto his knee and takes a sip of his drink. “Where do we stand on repayment?”
I take a gulp of mine, keeping my gaze locked on the most dangerous man I’ve ever known. “I should have all of it next weekend.”
His silver brows rise. “That quick?”
I nod.
“And what about the other repayment?”
My shoulders tense, and I look down at my glass, swirling my drink, trying to forget how the taste of bourbon in my mouth reminds me of Allegra. “You haven’t given me any indication of what you would like me to do in that regard.”
“No ideas?” He gives me a grin before taking another sip. “And here I thought you were intelligent, Coen.”
I lean back and watch him carefully, trying to assess what it is he wants from me. “There are so many things you could ask for, so many things I can offer. How am I supposed to know which one you want?”
He nods slowly. “I guess that’s fair. And I wouldn’t want there to be any confusion between us.” His foot drops to the floor, and he leans forward slightly. “I’ll make this very clear. I’ve left your family alone, allowed Atlas and Wren to run off to Bali for the last month?—”
I cringe—he knew exactly where they were.
That shouldn’t be a surprise.
“Allowed them to bask on the beach and pretend like everything was fine, but it’s far from it, Coen, not with the amount of money both you and he cost me. I never would have set those odds if you hadn’t confirmed how bad off he was before the fight. I never would have lost that kind of money if it hadn’t been for your bet. Yes, Atlas is ultimately the one who betrayed me by failing to throw the fight, but it also lands squarely on your shoulders.”
I clench my jaw and my hand around the glass.
He doesn’t need to remind me.
I’m acutely aware of where I stand.
“Damon, stop toying with me and just tell me what the fuck it is you want.”
He issues another low chuckle and rises from his chair to pace over to the windows. “That’s one thing I’ve always appreciated about you Hawkes. You’re very direct. You don’t beat around the bush. That’s a quality I look for in partners.”
“We’ll never partner with you.” I practically growl. “I think that point has been made abundantly clear.”
“Has it?” He raises a brow and takes a sip. “Your cousin still cares for my men at the clinic.”
“Because you made him.” I try to keep the anger from my voice, but it still makes it tremble. “You forced him by threatening the rest of us and by insisting we owed you for your involvement with the Daniele Roselli situation.”
He would have let Atlas and Astrid bleed out on that filthy warehouse floor if he didn’t think he could get something by saving them—and that’s precisely what he did. He got himself a skilled emergency room doctor, not to mention a surgeon, if it really came down to it and he needs to call in Mom.
“I could have left them to die… Would that have been preferable?”
I can’t even respond to that without lashing out in a way that will only dig my grave deeper.
One thing I have to do is watch what I say to this man.
Not give away anything.
“Look, Damon, I know where I stand. I’m yours. And if any of us move on you, you have enough power and enough men to ensure that the rest of us pay for it.”
He offers a slow grin that seems to flash in the streaming moonlight. “I’m glad you understand that. But as I’ve mentioned, I’ve developed a bit of a fondness for you Hawkes. I would hate to have to do any of the unsavory things I’ve somehow become known for.” His shoulders rise and fall. “As long as everyone continues to cooperate, there won’t be any need for it.”
I grit my teeth. “Tell me what the fuck you want me to do.”
Just get it over with.
He scowls. “We can be civil, can’t we?”
“This from the man who shot up the Grind, almost killed my father, my brother, and my cousin?—”
“And the man who saved Atlas, Kennedy, and Astrid’s lives. Let’s not forget that.”
Fuck.
As if he’d ever let us…
I down the rest of my drink.
“I’ll tell you what, Coen. Once you repay the ten million”—he grins—“plus interest, which is what? Another million and a half by now?” I cringe and nod. “Then we’ll set to work on the remainder of your debt.”
A chill slides through me again, despite the heat and spice of the bourbon in my gut.
“We’ll start simple. I’ve managed to acquire ownership of half a dozen casinos along the Gulf Coast…”
My back stiffens as I watch him.
He what?
The man must know that makes him our biggest competitor with our plans for expansion. We’ve already purchased lots in six major cities between here and Corpus Christi. Things are already in motion, dates set, millions and millions laid out to help build the chain we started with Hawke Hotel.
He relaxes slightly. “I would like them to become the preeminent places to host tournaments such as the ones you’ve been playing in.”
“Poker?”
“Poker, baccarat, anything else we can come up with.”
What’s he getting at?
“How do I play a role?”
Hard eyes meet mine. “You’ll play whatever role I want you to. To start, I’ll use you as a plant in various tournaments, along with others, to help control the play.”
“You’re going to rig the tournaments?”
He grins, taking a sip before issuing a chuckle. “The odds are always against you in a casino. Didn’t your family ever teach you that?”
“You don’t think you’ll be caught?”
“My own brother tried to kill me.” He shrugs. “If he couldn’t catch me, no one can.”
And that’s exactly what I fear.
For all the Hawkes have tried, the man appears to be untouchable. He somehow survived a car bomb, managed to stay hidden for decades while building a lucrative criminal empire, and swooped in to establish control over Roselli’s territory so quickly it would make a person’s head spin.
“You want me to play for you?” I raise a brow, skeptical that it could be this easy. “That’s it?”
“For now…until I think of other ways to use you.”
If that isn’t ominous, I don’t know what the fuck is, and I suddenly wish I still had a full drink.
Because I can already see where this is going—what he will ask me to do.
What he will make me do.
Hawke Hotel can’t stand as his biggest competitor.
If this first location is as successful as we anticipate it being, there will be ten more locations scattered along the coast within five years—a rapid expansion plan. And Satriano doesn’t want a competitor.
Either we partner with him, or he eliminates us.
Plain and simple.