Connor
I mess with the gauge on the electric fireplace in Finn’s apartment, just to busy myself more than anything.
I can’t just hang around here staring at his white walls and lounging on his plush sectional.
This place may be a bachelor’s dream pad, but I’m not the type to sit around.
I even poured myself two fingers’ worth of Finn’s fine brandy.
It’s daytime, though, so the tumbler sits untouched on a coaster beside me as I listen to my father bitch and moan.
Declan’s not happy.
My dad’s not a happy person in general, at least to my memory. Maybe before Mom passed away, but he paid so little attention to his kids when we were younger that I can’t recall much about his mood swings. You need to be present in someone’s life for them to get a sense of your personality.
Our mother was a saint, with smiles and everlasting patience.
I can still see the way her eyes lit up when she laughed, the happy flush in her cheeks.
I can still recall the way she touched my arm whenever I was in trouble.
She never lifted a hand to reprimand me.
Instead, she doled out firm words and hugs.
Of course, that was before the booze and the pills. Before my father drove her to ruin.
My mother. I tuck her memory back in the box and close the lid. I don’t have time for this sad shit.
Declan wants answers. How long is this little field trip to NYC going to last? How much more time do I need to get the Bonasera diamond? When will the Russians and Italians be at each other’s throats?
For the hundredth time, I heave an exhausted sigh. “I don’t know, Dad. I’m not jacking a car downtown. High-end heists require time and careful planning.”
“We’ll be in touch.” Once he issues his signature goodbye, the line goes dead.
Fucker.
I down the glass of brandy.
My father’s gnat-in-my-ear technique has always been effective, though it’s getting old.
Problem is, Cat eliminated most of the cameras. And while I’ve endeared myself to her in some ways, that isn’t enough to garner me an invitation to a Ricci estate slumber party, complete with hair braiding and midnight hunts for their most precious heirloom.
Unfortunately, the diamond’s not on display in a velvet box on her dresser. Plus, with me being persona non grata with the other Riccis, I need a new way in.
Of course, creating solutions out of problems is what I do.
I’m tired of asking, tired of waiting.
Tired of being so damn giving.
It’s time to tell Cat how things are going to go. Time to claim what’s mine.
I pull up the app for the tracking device I planted on her when we kissed in the salvage yard.
She’s at the private swimming facility near the Ricci mansion. She mentioned her love for the water. More like a love affair with swimming itself that ended in a terrible breakup.
Perfect. I’ll catch her in her natural habitat. A practice run for the diamond hunt.
Forty-five minutes later, the swimming facility materializes before me. A fence circles a modern, single-story structure that features clean lines and a wrought iron gate out front. One guard mans the booth.
I could do this in my sleep.
I hop the gate on the west side of the guard shack as he’s facing east. The closer the better when you’ve got a gated entry. As I propel myself over the top, I peer through the window to ensure he remains occupied, practically reading his texts along with him.
People think the age of technology has made being a criminal more difficult. It’s just the opposite. Everyone’s caught up in their own shit or the shit of total strangers, glammed by social media, by the drama of it all.
As a result, my life’s gotten easier.
No one ever glances up long enough to see the murderer under their nose.
Inside the compound, I expect to find at least one guard or enforcer, in addition to the guy in the shack. It’s a swimming pool where mafia business has probably never taken place and never will.
With no intention to end any lives today, I walk straight through the doors leading to the pool and head toward the big guy in the black suit.
“Is this the Y?” I give him an I-come-in-peace smile. “Because my Uber’s been driving in circles, and I’m supposed to meet my buddies for a pickup game.”
Cat’s guard stalks toward me. “Get the fuck out of here!”
When he’s close enough, with one hand on the gun at his waist, I launch forward, wrapping my arm around his neck in a chokehold.
He grunts and tries to shove me off, but it’s too late.
In ten seconds, he’s out. I should probably talk to Cat about upping her security quality.
I drag him toward the nearest door, where I find a janitorial closet. Perfect.
I set him on the floor inside the cramped space, steal his phone, and secure the outer doorknob with a metal lockout device. Then I place his phone on the ground up against the wall.
He can have that back later, after his time-out.
Now, to find my prize.
I follow my nose to the water. The burn of chlorine aside, this facility is state of the art. White-and-navy tiles glisten under bright but not obnoxious indirect fluorescent lighting. From behind a wall of glass, I watch Cat do laps back and forth in the fifty-meter pool.
Though I’d like to get closer to see those muscles in action, I can tell she’s skilled from here as she glides through the water like a blade. The movement is methodical. Soothing. I hope she enjoys it the way I do, because I’m all kinds of relaxed.
In the locker room, I locate a nice spot behind a white, honeycomb-patterned shower curtain, the first of three oversize showers in this expansive changing area. I guess that’s in case Cat ever has a playdate she wants to bring along? Surely no one else uses this space.
I shove down white-hot jealousy at the idea of another man and lean against the shower wall, biding my time.
Less than ten minutes later, Cat emerges dressed in a practical navy one-piece. Despite the suit’s modesty, my dick twitches at the sight of her through the curtain.
She unsnaps her swim cap, freeing her dark hair from its cage. Thick waves spill over her shoulders as she tosses the wet rubber onto the bench parallel to the lockers.
After peeling off her suit, she slips into the shower area.
Going past my stall, she enters the last one—just as I figured—and the hiss of water steaming out of the pipes fills the quiet room.
I’m pretty sure I saw a horror movie like this once. The villain hid in the locker room, waiting to strike, the final, virginal girl clueless…
I leave stall number one and rip Cat’s curtain open.
With a scream, she spins and covers herself, but her shock cools into annoyance once she recognizes me. Her eyes narrow, and she drops her arms, not bothering to hide.
Wise, since I’ve already seen everything she has on offer.
“I’d ask how you got in here, but all I want to know is—”
“No one’s dead.” I step into the spacious stall, my boots squeaking on damp blue tile. “I’m not a monster who’s into murder for murder’s sake.”
She eyes me with pursed lips.
“Your guard’s in the closet by the entryway. The key to the lock is here.” I pull the little gold key from my pocket and toss it on the tile behind us. “He’s fine in the meantime.”
“You’re a little overdressed for the type of cardio this facility offers.” She acts as if she’s fully dressed and we’re chatting while in line for lattes. “What are you doing here?”
If I hadn’t already experienced her in bed, her current appearance would surprise me. By day, she’s just so buttoned-up and professional. She’s the pretty green plant—the Money Tree—in the corner of your office that you never even notice.
This side of her, though—unabashedly unashamed—scintillates me. I wonder if it’ll ever get old.
Still, I’m the one in control here. Although, given how she shakes out her hair and plants her hands on her hips, maybe Cat didn’t receive that memo.
She holds her ground without a single hint of shyness, and all that newfound confidence makes me feel like I’m studying another species. Fascinating, because most men aren’t like that.
The majority of people substitute false bravado for true belief in themselves. They lead with their fragile egos.
Maeve wasn’t quite like this either. She’s more self-assured now, with Kellin—another Irish King—by her side.
For most of our lives, though, she always deferred to our father, even when she didn’t want to.
She never could stand up to him, and while she acted the part of a Boss Bitch, she always shook a little while trying to balance on that pedestal.
Cat’s a background player in her own life, but she rules within her domain. For someone who lives a life of solitude and navigates a man’s world from the cheap seats, she’s awfully secure in herself.
I like the way she never backs down even when she knows she’s outmatched. It only heightens my eagerness to conquer her. Show her what a real man—not one of these Italian pretty boys—can do.
I prowl closer.
She presses her back against the wall to keep the distance between us and jerks from the coldness of the tile.
That’s okay. I’ll heat her up.
I cup her breasts with both hands, circling those pretty nipples that were already hardened into points. She gasps, and I briefly wonder if she plans to scream. Surely she realizes the pointlessness of crying out.
I’m not leaving until I get what I want.
“Listen.” I lean in, licking a drop of water from her neck. “Nino sucks.”
She snorts. “You came here to corner me in my naked state to talk about my brother?” She rolls her eyes and pushes my hands away.
“Nino sucks, and you know it. No good is going to come with him at the reins.” When I put my hands back on her chest, she inhales audibly, her pupils wide and black. “He doesn’t know his head from his big toe.”
Cat’s shoulders relax as I knead her breasts and twist her nipples, her back arching off the tile wall. Electricity jolts between us, forcing me to exert extra effort just to talk. I want to drop my pants, pull out my cock, and rail her right here in this shower.
Control.
“So, Nino doesn’t know his head from his toe or his ass, and the Roguilins are going to chew the Riccis up and spit you out in pieces.
You’ll be baby bird fodder for the rest of us, if there’s anything left of you at all.
” I slip one of my hands down to her waist and over her hip, where I massage her ass a little. “I know you know this.”
Her tits graze my chest as she inhales while her lips remain pressed into a thin line.
That’s fine. I can do the talking.
“If you think your brother’s going to see things your way, you’re wasting your time. And pretending you’re not the only brain left in that house is a waste of your energy.”
“You don’t know a damn thing—”
“I know you.” I slide my hand between her legs where it belongs. Except now, no swath of polyester will separate my fingers from my goal.
Cat tenses but doesn’t shift away or move my hand. I lick my lips, heat curling in my gut as my thumb circles her clit. She exhales shakily, her eyelids fluttering.
I can’t wait to make this gorgeous woman come undone.
I bend close to her ear. “I know what you need, and by default, what your family needs.”
As I push a finger inside her, her grip on my biceps tightens, and her eyes start to roll back.
Concentrating on speaking has become a chore when she’s so deliciously snug and hot around my finger, but I persevere. “So, since chewing up the Riccis will give the Roguilins the strength they need to overpower the Gallaghers, we’re going to work together to stop it. You and I. Got it?”
Moaning, she shakes her head.
“Cat?” I sneak another finger inside her, spreading her pussy out. I pick up the pace, finger fucking with one hand and teasing her nipples with the other. “I know you understand. This is the only way this works.”
She surrenders into the sensations, her mouth open, her face flushed from steam and pleasure. Her back arches, her nails digging into my arms through my damp shirt.
She’s so beautiful. I could study her for hours.
This is what I should’ve recorded.
Her moans tell I’ve hit the spot.
That’s where I want her.
She’s squirming.
Say yes, Cat.
I need you to say yes.
You’re mine.
The lust surging through my body damn near sends me over the edge, but I fight the orgasm. This is about her, not me.
She squeezes my arms, her forehead falling onto my chest as she breathes the word I willed into existence. “Yes…”
That’s my girl.
“Yes.”
She’s close, and I’m excited to watch her ride the wave of ecstasy again, compliments of Yours Truly.
“Yes, Connor.” She peers up at me. “But I need something from you.” She’s clear-eyed in a blink, rocking against my fingers with not even an ounce of lust in those hazel gems.
Son of a loving bitch.
She should be spinning by now, seeing stars and crying out my name.
Though she’s not demanding I stop or pushing me away, she’s not lost in pleasure either. “If I’m going to go against my family for you, you need to prove you’re worth the effort.”
Fuck me. What’s she even saying?
I don’t need to prove anything to Cat or anyone else.
She’s mine, but I guess she hasn’t learned that lesson yet.