Chapter 17 #2
Grinning, he grabbed his wine. “I’ll give you that. The people we think are responsible are the Greek mafia.”
“So there’s more than one crime syndicate in Las Vegas.”
His incredulous look brought a smile. “You’re a very intelligent woman, Halle. Yes, there are a few. Some worse than others. Some more organized and many handle business the way my father and uncle did even fifteen years ago.”
“Which means killing people who get in their way.”
“Sometimes. Yes.”
I thought about everything I knew regarding Liam and his family.
Sean hadn’t wanted to talk about their father and certain business practices that had troubled him enough that he hadn’t talked to his father in years.
The only reason he’d remained close to his brother had been because up until his death, Liam had never pushed an agenda.
Or so I believed.
For some reason, before his death Sean had been off. Angry. Agitated. I’d caught him on the phone late at night talking in whispered words. We’d even argued the morning of the fire because he’d refused to tell me who he’d been talking to.
Had I thought that his father was Irish mafia before? I’d be lying to myself if I said no. Now I couldn’t believe I was standing in my own kitchen with a member of the Bratva.
“So this Greek mafia went to the trouble of torching your house and tracking you down while on a date then attempting to gun you down. For what?” I pushed.
“Call it a misunderstanding.” The deep rumble of his tone sent a series of shivers down my spine. He didn’t seem overly bothered by what had occurred.
I added the mushrooms, trying to imagine what life would be like if I always had a target on my back. “I’m curious. I’m going to guess you’re the type of man not to take two attempts on your life sitting down. Correct?”
The way his ice blue eyes sparkled in the LED lighting of the kitchen brought an ache deep inside my pussy. “You guessed correctly, sladkiy tsvetok.”
His use of Russian caught me off guard. “What did you just say?”
“I called you a sweet flower. Your perfume is like night-blooming jasmine.”
I was surprised he knew. “Yes. So answer the question. What did you do in retaliation?”
He took a thoughtful sip of wine, never blinking as he studied me. Why did I have the feeling he was trying to decide whether he could trust me? “My brothers, cousins, and I burned down his warehouse.”
I stopped moving altogether. “What was in the warehouse?”
“One half was devoted to the company’s food distribution center.”
Food distribution. “Wait a minute. Performance Food Group. Right?”
He lifted a single eyebrow. I could swear it was like I’d just passed a truth test. “Yes.”
“O’Leary’s uses them.” That couldn’t be a coincidence. “And the other part of the warehouse contained what?”
“Deadly cocaine and heroin.”
No way. Was it possible Liam was selling drugs from the pub?
Exhaling, I now had so many questions running through my mind I didn’t know where to begin. “So you and your family don’t…”
He headed for the bottle of wine, which was on the other side of me, purposely brushing his fingers along the small of my back. As he’d likely expected, I shuddered.
“No, Halle. We consider the sale of illegal drugs heinous activity.”
“And guns?”
“While I can’t deny we’ve sold a few crates in our lives, that’s not what our financial wealth is about.”
“So you’re legitimate.”
He poured his wine and was suddenly right beside me, so close I could easily concentrate on the thick cord on the side of his neck. And the way the ink scrolled along there. I hadn’t really paid attention to it before. I’d had a few other things on my mind.
“The resorts, restaurants, concert venues, and our stock portfolio are the reasons we are a wealthy family.”
“But… I can tell you’re holding something back.”
“Oh, you can, can you?” Nothing about the man should surprise me any longer, but when he quickly placed his glass on the counter, lifted and bent his knee and tossed me over his thick thigh, I was too floored to react quickly.
Thank God he didn’t yank down my pajama bottoms. But he did decide to swat my bottom several times.
I wanted to stop him. I really did, but there was something inside me that craved more. The possessive hold. The sense of being dominated. The building need. The wetness between my legs. Even the discomfort turning to pain because he wasn’t going easy on me, the swats hard and swift.
The sound was muted, my slight whimpers louder than the dull thudding sound.
It didn’t take long until I was writhing in his hold, not because of trying to escape, but so I could better grind my pussy against his leg. The moment was sinful, but I could tell by his labored breathing that he was enjoying himself and in as much need as I felt.
After four more brutal swats, he almost lost his balance, teetering forward, which pitched us against the counter.
When my hip hit the edge, it also smacked against the wooden spoon still covered in sauce. Maybe in a comedy of errors or karma telling him to be careful around me, the movement acted like a ricochet, tossing the spoon against his face.
I jumped backward, slapping my hand over my mouth to keep from squealing. Meanwhile, it was as if karma was causing the spoon to slowly fall all the way down the front of his shirt. His gorgeous face was blotched with marinara sauce.
And given he tried to catch the wooden handle, the flat part dropped on his nicely pressed trousers. The look on his face was one of horror.
All I could do was laugh. Maybe he’d be angry with me, but I just didn’t care. I needed a good laugh.
Unable to stop myself, I rose onto my tiptoes, licking several drops from his cheek. He pulled me closer, holding both arms, his eyes darting back and forth across mine.
“You’re a mess,” I whispered.
“I have you to blame for that.”
So many aspects about the man continued to both surprise and annoy, but with spending time with him, I was becoming more fascinated by the man behind the obvious mask he was wearing. So strong.
So handsome.
So sensual.
That’s why when he wrapped his fingers around my ponytail, jerking back my head as he yanked me against the heat of his body, tiny stars floated in front of my eyes.
From excitement.
From intense desire.
He crushed his lips against mine, instantly thrusting his tongue into my mouth. The taste of wine and marinara sauce, the bite of cheese I’d enjoyed, and his incredible natural flavor mixed together in a way that made me lightheaded.
Or maybe that was because of his intense musky scent. Not just woodsy with spices and citrus, but something much darker, more dangerous.
More passionate.
I slipped one arm around his shoulder, tangling my fingers in his hair. The feel of his thick, silky strands added to the heated moment. When he pulled me tightly against him, the feel of his throbbing cock almost made me forget about dinner.
He rolled his other hand down my back, cupping and squeezing my bottom. While the spanking had been stern, the squeeze and everything else about this moment made what we were sharing that much more incredible.
And I couldn’t believe I was allowing this man to get to me. He wasn’t good for me. He wasn’t good for Emily. What if the same people who’d tried to have him killed came after my little family?
The strange heavy breathing had weighed on my mind, but only briefly. Any sick freak out there might have found my number after seeing my picture in the paper and decided to taunt me.
Wait. Was that any better?
I pushed my hand against his chest, but there was no stopping him. I’d heard about men taking what they wanted before. Alexsey took the concept to an entirely different level.
Could I lie and say I wasn’t aroused?
No. However, I tried to think rationally. I tried to break the spell.
“Mommy. Is dinner ready?”
That did it. Feeling guilty, I pushed hard against him. He didn’t fight me, but his smirk and the twinkle in his eyes allowed me to know he wasn’t finished with me yet.
“The pizza is getting ready to go into the oven, baby. Why don’t you wash your hands and it’ll just take a few minutes.” I was having so much difficulty not laughing and I could tell Alexsey was feeling the same.
At least his hand was no longer on my butt. My daughter noticed everything.
“Mommy? Is that your boyfriend?”
Case in point.
I bit back a groan, coughing to try to cover up my discomfort.
“Well, am I?” he dared ask me.
“You’re a terrible man.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment since the last time you called me a monster.” He let me go and I bit my lower lip, even swatting him.
“He’s just a friend, baby girl. Now go wash up for me. Okay?”
Her heavy sigh meant she didn’t believe me. And where in the hell had she learned the term boyfriend? I blamed my sister.
“Why don’t I put the pizza in the oven for you,” he suggested, the same look of amusement I’d seen one too many times on his face.
“Yes, do that. I’ll set the table.”
As I backed away, I continued watching him as he’d done with me. I would never expect him to act as if he enjoyed doing nothing more than making pizza, but he seemed far more comfortable than I could dream of.
In truth? I liked having him in the house.
Where this was going, I wasn’t certain.
Time would tell.
As I backed away, I heard my phone and decided to ignore it. I had a night to enjoy. To hell with everyone else.