I’m sitting at the glossy granite breakfast bar, wrapped in a cozy robe, watching a petite grandmother-aged woman cook me breakfast.
The similarities to yesterday morning are eerie. Someone else’s house. Someone else’s clothes. Someone else’s food. But this time, no sexy, domineering, and deliciously scruffy bully is barging in to put me off my appetite.
Even if I keep surreptitiously glancing around, looking for him.
I don’t know what in the name of God’s green earth got into me last night. Maybe the shock of everything that’s happened drove me to have an out of body experience. Or broke my brain. Or both.
Because I have no rational explanation for how I went from hitting and yelling at Rem at my apartment, accusing him of destroying my life, to laying sprawled across his desk completely naked while he licked me to the most earth-shattering orgasm of my life.
The progression from one polar opposite to the other isdefinitelynotthe work of a healthy brain. Or the sign of a woman with any sense of self-preservation.
Never again, I scold myself, watching with appreciation as his chef whips up what looks like the fluffiest omelet I’ve ever seen.
It’s because you trust him, a traitorous little voice in my heart whispers.
“I don’t,” I insist, quickly taking a sip of coffee when the woman at the stove turns and gives me a questioning glance. She hasn’t spoken a word to me and I’m not ready for her to break the silence yet.
You trust him to protect you.
“Ridiculous,” I whisper into my cup. “He’s a stalker and a kidnapper.”
Who comforts you in your sleep, pushes you out of the way of bullets, tends to your injuries, and gives you a safe place to sleep after a crazy Russian threatens you at work. Oh, and is wickedly talented with his mouth and has a gorgeous cock to boot.
The memory of Rem watching me watch him as I jerked him off slams into my brain, my body going instantly hot as I drop my forehead onto the counter. Yup,definitelynot something I will ever be doing again.
Even if it was the single hottest experience of my life.
No, I rock my head against the granite, letting the surface cool my flushed skin. No more fraternizing with the dangerous mobster from now on.
Mobster.The word, spat directly from my subconscious into the bright reality of day, pulls me up short. That’s what he is, right?
The way he wields authority like a weapon, the way he’s so matter of fact about guns and gunshot wounds. The way he’s always armed and commanding a small army of men. His access to the most exclusive places in the city, where only the most powerful and most wealthy dare step foot. His dark auraof carefully leashed violence. The comments Bianca made, not to mention the Russian guy…Holy shit.I just hooked up with the mob.
The tiny woman puts a gorgeous plate of food in front of me at the same time I burst into maniacal giggles.
I hooked up with a man in the mobandI slept in his bed. And I’m wearing his diamond ring. And I’m just sitting in his insanely posh penthouse as if it’s the most normal thing in the world. And I clearly,clearlyhave stepped into an alternate universe, because what thefuckis happening right now?!
Rem’s chef is looking at me with something that might be concern, might be suspicion. When I don’t start eating right away, she nudges the fork in my direction.
Body on autopilot, I wolf down a few bites—it really is the best omelet I’ve ever had—before the food turns toxic in my stomach.
“Thank you,” I tell her, moving away from the bar. “Thanks, but I…” I give a wave I hope she understands asI’m having a break from reality, am maybe fake engaged to a member of the Italian mafia and can’t really eat eggs right now.
Other than the woman I leave muttering in Italian behind me, the penthouse is empty. No bodyguards lurking. No Johnny hovering. No Rem looming. No one to stop me rushing through hallways in search of the room I first fell asleep in last night.
Miracle of miracles, I manage to get to the right room without getting lost. I don’t bother showering or finger-combing my hair or doing anything else that would make me vaguely presentable as I formulate a plan to get out of the city. Maybe I can pawn the giant diamond on my hand, get enough cash for a burner phone, new clothes, and a bus ticket out to the middle of nowhere.
I’ve never run from the mafia before, but it seems like as solid a strategy as I’m going to come up with on short notice. Once I’m far enough away I can find a way to contact theCortland police department and see if they can tell me how and why my aunt was killed.
At least, that’s the plan until I hear a knock on the bedroom door.
“Hi Lena. How are you feeling?”
Turning, I find Bianca smiling in the doorway. “Ah…” I jerk the robe tight, wrapping my arms around my midsection. “What are you doing here?”
“Rem sent me.” Her smile expands in what looks like genuine delight. “He asked me to keep you company. He thought you might be lonely.”
“Lonely?”