Sweet, tangy, entirely Sera.
I lap her liquid up, barely able to beat back the beast in my chest as her flavor saturates my senses.
Beneath the water, Sera’s hips buck, tiny aftershocks ripping through her as I lick her fingers clean. By the time I let herhand drop, breathing is an afterthought, my next hit the only thing I can think about.
Her next orgasm the only thing I want.
So much for keeping my fucking distance.
“Alik?” Sera’s voice pulls me back to reality.
The vodka swirls in my otherwise empty stomach, a headache pounding to life behind my eyes.
“You okay?” she asks.
No, not even a little. She’s so beautiful. Cheeks pink, skin flushed, nipples rosy. Black hair loose and floating on top of the water. Pleasure radiating off every pore. She looks so much healthier than she did weeks ago. So much stronger. And if I stand here a second longer, she’s going to snap what’s left of my fraying self-control in two. “Can you stand?” I ask her.
“Uhh…yeah.”
I nod, forcing myself to let go of her hypnotic green gaze. “Good.” I have a million other things I want to say, but all of them will just make this situation so much worse.
I swim to the side and push out of the water, ignoring my raging hard-on and Sera’s sharp inhale when she gets a fleeting view of my nearly naked body. I don’t let myself turn around and dive back under with her, no matter how much I want to. Don’t bother drying off before I yank my clothes on over my wet boxer briefs and track water through the house as I storm through the halls to my office.
My chest is still tight, my dick practically rubbing a hole through my clothes, the determined fucker refusing to back down despite being shoved in my jeans.
I’m not jerking off again. I did it once while watching Sera’s little taunt yesterday and again before interrogating Rocco. My fist isn’t giving the satisfaction I need and my fist is the only fucking option I have.
I can’t have Sera. I can’t want her. It was true before. Even more so now.
I drop my ass into my desk chair, scrubbing a hand across my jaw as I stare at the picture in front of me. Moving sluggishly, I adjust the vase of Rina’s favorite flower. Lilacs.
Failure and guilt force their way to the surface, just like always.
My priority is finding the men who took Rina from me. The fact that they’re the same ones who want Sera amplifies the urgency. A fresh wave of anger boils over as I pick up the picture frame and look at the face I’ve loved since I was a boy.
Rocco’s tip about the club might be the thing that gets me closer to the answers I need. I pound out a text to Dimitri, ordering him to make sure that Sera gets back to her suite safely. Then I down three more shots of vodka and block out all thoughts except how to get into this nameless club.
After hours of working contacts and what feels like endless dead ends later, I get an unexpected call.
“Che cazzo, Valentin,” Rem Cosenza growls as soon as I answer. “You sure are ruffling a lot of fucking feathers tonight. And here I thought you were a fly-under-the-radar kind of assassin. There’s nothing stealthy in pissing off the heads of multiple crime families. What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“What I came here to do,mudak. What’s it to you?”
“You’re starting fires. Ones that can get out of control fast. My uncle and I have only just gotten business back to normal. I don’t need you fucking things up right now. So, tell me what the hell you’re looking for and I’ll do what I can to help.”
“How altruistic of you.”
“Fuck that,” he says with a harsh laugh. “Your pot-stirring is turning into a major pain in my ass. I want it done and you gone. The faster those two things happen, the happier I’ll be. Any help I give you is entirely self-serving, believe me. Tell me exactly what the fuck you’re trying to achieve, and I’ll do what I can to get you there.”
I don’t answer immediately, letting the silence drag out until Rem starts to curse me in his mother tongue. Something about riling up the ’Ndrangheta underboss gives me a perverse sense of satisfaction, and I let him fester as long as possible, payback for that time he tried to kill me with a cocktail pick. Just before he’s about to hang up on me, I tell him want he wants to know.
My search for the Albanian. The story Rocco gave me about the club. My chance to find Shkodra before the auction.
When I’m done, Rem considers everything I’ve said. “This Albanian—why do you want him so badly?”
“What does it matter to you?”
I can practically hear the Italian’s homicidal frustration through the phone. “Okay, different question. What are you going to do with him once you find him?”