Chapter 4 #2
Before he could think better of it, the words exploded out of him.
“Marry me instead.”
Tony and the two guards stiffened. Tony even looked over his shoulder, then back out at the other guards stationed around the bar.
She didn’t laugh. Instead, she leaned closer, lips curling into a wicked grin. “I bet you’d go down on me, wouldn’t you?” she whispered, her voice low and teasing. “Are you… good? In bed?” she finished, as if he needed clarification.
“Yes,” Sal replied without hesitation, his eyes locked on her still-drunk gaze.
It was such an insane idea, marrying this princess.
The thought had started as a joke, just to see her reaction.
But now that it had slipped into his head, he couldn’t shake it.
“Yes. I’m very good in bed. Better than anyone you’ve ever met. ”
Her lips parted, and she gave him a slow, assessing look. “Confident. I like that.” She tilted her head, feigning thoughtfulness. “But would you keep your pants zipped if we were married? Or would you sneak off to a brothel to satisfy your… needs?”
He stared at her—another shocking question from this wild creature. “Never,” he vowed, his voice hard and certain. He’d never married because he hadn’t found anyone worth the vow. But if he did…he wouldn’t betray them.
“Good,” she said with a little nod, then suddenly stood up, swaying. “Then let’s do it!”
Sal blinked. “Do it?”
She grinned, catching herself on the edge of the table.
“Yeah. This is Vegas. You’re Sal Romano.
I’m a useless, spoiled mafia princess. I’ll decorate your penthouse, host elegant dinner parties, make sure you have the right wine glasses on the right tablecloths…
and, well—” she waved a hand vaguely “—we can figure out the rest later. The main point is to marry now so I don’t have to marry Matteo. Right?”
Sal wasn’t sure what the hell to say. He didn’t dare look back at his men, certain they were silently choking on their laughter. Tony in particular was going to regret this—Sal was already compiling a list of miserable tasks to assign him the second this night was over.
“Honey, I think we should—” He cut himself off, springing up when she swayed dangerously. His reflexes caught her, strong arms steadying her.
She groaned, pressing a hand to her temple. “I think I had too much to drink.”
“I think you’re right,” he muttered, still holding her against him. She was too light, her body delicate against his strength. But her breasts were pressed firmly to his arm, and her hair—hell, how was he feeling her hair? Hadn’t it been twisted up before?
“Damn it,” he grumbled as pins rained down with soft pings onto the table as her fingers released the locks from those pins. Her thick, dark hair spilled in glossy waves across his arm.
“Damn, that feels good,” she moaned, shaking it loose as if on purpose.
The sound shot straight to his groin. He clenched his jaw as his body hardened, painfully tight. He imagined what other sounds he could pull from her, and the thought nearly undid him.
“We need to get out of here, boss,” Tony muttered low.
“I can’t leave her like this.” Sal’s voice was rough. He scanned the room, hunting for an exit strategy. “Take her up the back elevator. She can sober up in my suite.”
Tony’s jaw flexed. “That’s not a good idea, boss. What if Bianchi finds out she’s in your room?”
“Then I’ll deal with him later.”
The beauty in his arms leaned close, her breath warm against his neck. “If you’re talking about my dad… you should know he’s planning to take you down.” She yawned, covering the impolite moment with the back of her hand, before letting her head fall onto his shoulder.
Sal stared down at her. Her dark lashes brushed her cheeks, impossibly long, too perfect to be fake. And she was so damn beautiful like this, hair tumbling wild and free, looking like trouble wrapped in silk.
And what the hell had she just said? Enrico was coming after him?
“What’s he going to do?” Sal asked, his voice low and dangerous.
She grinned sleepily, those dark eyes opening to look directly up at him. “You’ll have to marry me to find out.” She yawned again. “He has someone in your organization.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I think I know who, but….”
Tony muttered a string of expletives under his breath. “Bianchi plays dirty, boss,” he said in a low, grumbly voice.
“Not as dirty as me,” Sal replied, a slow, dangerous smile curving his lips.
A moment later, he lifted the woman into his arms, confirming what he already suspected—she was too thin, too fragile. She weighed almost nothing.
“Deal with the bartender and any other witnesses,” Sal ordered. His tone was soft, but lethal. With a sharp jerk of his head, he signaled to the other guards that he was taking the back elevator up to the penthouse.
The bar fell into a sudden hush as he carried her out, her hair spilling over his arm in dark waves, pins scattered like fallen coins in their wake.
Her breath stirred against his neck, the faintest whisper escaping her lips. “Don’t trust him…”
Sal froze for a heartbeat, the words sinking in like poison. Don’t trust who?
But when he pulled her back to look at her face, her lashes were lowered, her expression slack. She was gone to sleep—or pretending.
Either way, Sal knew one thing.
By morning, his entire world might look very different.