42. Emily

We check into a high-end boutique hotel after driving around the city for what feels like hours. Simon's paranoid and I'm on edge, but he seems confident when he checks in under a fake name and pays in all cash. The girl working the front desk doesn't bat an eye.

"I don't know how they found me," he says once we're in the room. He's pacing back and forth and looks like he's going to have a heart attack. "I've been careful. There's no way they found the apartment, but somehow they followed us to Vito's place."

"Could they have been staking him out?" I ask, sitting down on the bed. He's still pacing back and forth, but he grunts and looks thoughtful.

"That's possible," he says after a few minutes. "Whoever that was could've been looking out for Vito, but he stumbled onto us instead. Bad luck happens sometimes."

I get up and go to him. He seems hesitant, but I pull him into my arms. I kiss him hard and let my tongue tell him what I'm thinking about right now, because I've been dying to do this all day, and he needs to calm down. I move him over to the bed, push him down onto the edge, and drop to my knees.

His eyes fill with lust. I love that heavy-lidded stare like he's barely controlling himself as I unbutton his jeans and yank them off.

"Baby, there are men trying to kill us," he says as I stroke him up and down, feeling a fire in my belly.

"Then why are you so hard, huh?" I bite his lip and gently pull him from his briefs. His tip's so wet with precum and he's rock hard. I love the way he groans as I stroke him faster. "Let me take care of you."

"Emily," he whispers.

"Please. Let me." I drop down and kiss his tip, licking him slightly, and he moans as I take him into my mouth. I suck him hard, using my tongue to lap around his crown, and when I hollow my cheeks, he throws his head back and grips my hair, guiding me up and down.

I suck him faster, slopping, not caring about anything but making him feel good. He needs a release, and he needs to relax, but more than that, I want to do this for him. I want him in my mouth. He tastes so fucking good, and he's so damn hard that he's practically throbbing against my lips, and I suck him faster, his fingers tightening in my hair. I take him deep and pull back gasping, and he buries my mouth with his.

But I push him back when he tries to drag me into his lap. I stroke him with both hands and focus on his tip with my mouth, sucking and licking and making sinful noises. "Fuck, baby," he moans. "That feels so fucking good. I love when you suck my cock like that. Take me deep into your mouth, you filthy girl, and swallow me."

I do as I'm told because I'm a good girl like that and he groans, finally tipping over the edge. I taste him finish on my tongue, and just like I was commanded, I swallow every drop.

He sighs and lies back on the bed. I cuddle up against him, smiling to myself. "That was a job well done," I whisper and kiss his neck.

"Very well done," he agrees and looks at me. His expression is much more relaxed now. "Take off your pants. Let me return the favor."

I laugh and slap his chest. "Later. Take a break for once in your life."

His eyes squeeze shut. "That's not who I get to be," he whispers and when I try to argue, he only shakes his head. "I mean it, baby, if I'm going to be the Don, that means everything will be my responsibility, and that sort of job never stops. It'll be all day, every day. Every win, every loss, it'll all fall at my feet. It won't be easy."

"Then you're lucky you have me to provide copious amounts of calming blowjobs," I say and kiss his neck. "You can handle this, Simon."

He nods once. "I know I can, and it feels a lot easier with you on my arm. I'm glad you didn't go to your father's place."

"I'm glad too."

We stay like that for a while, tangled up and happy, until his phone buzzes and the real world intrudes again. He takes the call and I find myself drifting out into the hallway to give him a little privacy. There's a big window down near the emergency staircase overlooking the parking lot and I stand there staring outside as I give my dad a call.

"Hey, Em," Dad says, answering on the third ring. It's a little past nine at night, but I knew he'd be awake. Dad was never much of a sleeper. "How's it going?"

"Just wanted to check in on you and make sure everything was fine."

"Everything's good," he grunts and I hear him adjust the TV in the background. It sounds like he's watching some kind of Western. "Cashed another check this morning. Tell that husband of yours to cool it with the payments."

"Don't worry about Simon. He can afford it."

Dad blows out a long breath. "Never thought I'd get taken care of by some strange guy in my old age."

"He's not a strange guy, Dad. He's my husband and your son-in-law."

"Good point. Guess that's marginally better."

I chat with my dad for a while. I don't think he's aware of the guards watching over him, which is good. He doesn't go out all that much, which makes their job a lot easier, and I can't bring myself to tell him what's going on. He's been through enough—I don't want him to worry even more.

"Alright, you listen up, this old man needs to head to bed now. I don't remember the last time we talked on the phone for more than a couple minutes."

"That's because you're always trying to rush me off." I smile to myself and lean against the window frame. Down below in the parking lot, three dark SUVs whip around a corner. Those assholes are driving way too fast. They slam on brakes and take up three spots toward the back under a big tree away from the street light. Dickheads, I hope there aren't any rooms available for them.

But then my heart starts to race. Men pile out of the SUVs, and none of them have luggage. They're all big, wearing dark, baggy clothes, and surgical masks, like they're trying to conceal their identities.

"Okay, talk to you later," I say to my dad and hang up the phone in the middle of him saying something. I'm cold all over and my hands are sweating. I turn and sprint back to the room and yank at the handle, cursing when I realize I'm locked out.

I bang and shout. "Simon, open up. Simon!"

He answers in a towel. "Fuck, baby, what's going?—"

"Men are coming," I say breathlessly and shove him back into the room. "Get dressed. We have to run."