CHAPTER TWELVE

brAXTON

J esus fucking Christ . Not only am I in Frank "The Fire" Baldassare's house. I'm alone with him in his office. Well, that and two of the guards standing outside the internal doors and the glass doors outside.

It's terrifying and yet thrilling.

Mostly terrifying.

Part of me wants to take a selfie and send it to Decker, the other part wants to stay alive.

Still...it's tempting.

Gianna was incredible. That woman is as brave as she is beautiful. If she wasn't the mafia princess, I would consider myself lucky to have her as my girlfriend. She's sexy as hell in bed and the most beautiful woman I've ever seen.

Her skin is flawless, her eyes bewitching, and her body is sinful. It's not hard to pretend I'm in love with her.

Frank offers me a cigar and I decline.

He grunts.

Then takes about four hours—or so it feels—to light one for himself while I stand feeling like I'm in the principal's office.

Finally, the flame is put out with a flick of his wrist, and he watches me from across the room as he blows out a huge plume of smoke.

"Cuban," I say, recognizing the smell.

"Behike," he says, holding the tobacco up. "Box of these could buy a suburban wagon in the United States."

Wow.

I nod, unimpressed.

"So," Frank says, taking a seat in a leather armchair, not inviting me to do the same. "What is it you really want?"

The million-dollar question.

The Dark Kings and I went over this. It was anticipated he would confront me, wondering what is behind my interest in his daughter.

I remind myself of the character I'm playing and walk to the other chair and lower myself into it.

I cross my legs.

Relaxed as fuck.

"Until today, your daughter," I reply.

He takes another drag and watches me like a hawk. The smoke he blows out reaches me, almost making me cough.

I don't.

"Continue," he orders me.

This man has death on his hands and in his eyes. He wouldn't hesitate to kill me should he choose.

"I still want your daughter. But she overheard me having a problem with a four-hundred-million-dollar shipment. I need to head to Europe to deal with it or there will be a price on my head."

He slowly nods.

James enters the room with a pile of papers.

"Boss. This is what we've sourced so far. His identification checks out," James says, and I feel my teeth grind, waiting for him to tell the mobster Gianna and I only met last night.

He doesn't.

Which can only mean Gianna has spoken to him and has some sway. I don't know enough about her guard to know what motivates him. He will have sworn an oath to the capo, so right now my ID must be a fucking good fake for it not to have pinged any red flags.

And Gianna has something over him.

"Thank you. Send Salvatore in if he has eaten." Frank nods.

Salvatore is his second. I know that and I should know that given who I am pretending to be. I say nothing.

When we're alone once more, Frank reads through the papers as if I'm not there.

I wait.

Painfully.

"What was in the shipment?" he finally asks me.

I watch him for a long moment, my stomach acid curdling. I'm in deep now. There's no turning back.

"Stock," I reply, then clarify. "Livestock."

He knows I don't mean cows or sheep.

Or chickens.

I mean women and children.

Frank's nostrils flare. "And the problem is?"

"It has been intercepted by pirates. I don't know who has it. Possibly law enforcement or another mafia." I lift my foot onto my ankle and appear angry, shaking my head. "I've never had this happen before. I should be on a plane." I look him in the eye. "But your daughter believes you might be interested in assisting me."

"Gianna knows nothing about the business," he hisses.

"I think she knows more than she lets on. She is a bright woman."

Shit.

I didn't mean to stay that, but the need to defend her just took over. I meant every damn word. Even though I'm disgusted by the fact she does know.

"Let's put your relationship with my daughter aside for now. You cannot marry her in any case." Frank waves out his hand and I grind my teeth.

I should have realized Gianna is being matched with someone in the crime world. This is what they do with their daughters.

I assume she knows.

This must be why she wants to keep our love affair alive. It might be her last days, weeks, or months of freedom.

Yet again I feel disgust at how this world works. Not that it's unique to crime families. Many cultures do this.

But the woman who was in my arms and riding my cock last night doesn't feel like someone I want to see marry a bloodthirsty killer.

Not my business.

"How do you see me assisting you?" the don asks.

I tap my finger on my raised knee. "I don't know if you can. I need to replace this stock fast. If I don't, I will need to come up with four hundred million out of thin air."

Frank lets out a grunt. "You don't look like you are struggling to pay your bills, Mr. Rossi."

So he did see the Ferrari outside.

"Nobody has four hundred million dollars tucked in their back pocket, Mr. Baldassare."

He shrugs in that Italian way.

I am part Italian, but it's almost diluted in my family tree. Still, the dark features remain, so it appears they bought it. At least her mother did.

"Well, Gianna is wrong. I'm not a bank and the Baldassare family does not trade in humans, so it appears I cannot help you," Frank says.

Liar.

"Then it appears Gianna has done nothing more than buy us another night together." I smile, nodding respectfully at him. "One I cannot find in me to regret."

He thinks he is sending me off to my deathbed. If this was a real situation, unless I was cunning as hell, it would be.

I am about to stand when Frank taps his cigar on an ashtray and says, "My daughter hasn't smiled the way she is tonight for a long time."

My chest swells in a way it has no right to. After all, I'm a man. I spent hours' last night pleasuring that woman and enjoyed every fucking minute of it. Hearing that she's glowing, which I can see for myself, isn't something I can ignore.

There is a sparkle in her eyes, and I put it there.

"Let's talk in the morning," he says, as the door to his office opens and Salvatore walks in.

Neither of them says any more, and it's clear I'm dismissed.

I was right. He was lying about not helping me. His instruction to talk the next morning is an invitation to continue discussions as his team digs further.

My god, using Gianna to get inside this family might just fucking work.

I stand, straightening my Armani pants. "Thank you for your time, Mr. Baldassare. It was a pleasure to meet you," I say and walk to the door.

Salvatore nods at me and as I'm about to walk out, a tall, well-built man around my age walks through the door. His deep blue eyes hold mine as we pass. There's a power about him that one would be stupid to ignore.

Dante Baldassare.

Gianna's brother and heir to the crime family.

––––––––

W HEN I ENTER the living area where Gianna is staring out the floor-to-ceiling glass doors, she turns. Her big eyes run over the length of my body as if she's checking I'm in one piece. Then she runs to me.

I open my arms and wrap them around her.

Someone needs to remind us there is no audience and no need for this display of affection and pleasure in seeing one another after no more than forty minutes.

Yet I still take her lips in mine and kiss her like she's the love of my life. God, but I do love kissing this woman.

"Are you staying?" Gianna asks, catching her breath when I release her.

"Yes. For tonight."

The little happy moan she lets out has my cock stiffening and pressing against my boxers.

"Good, because I had your bags taken up to my room." Gianna smiles sexily.

She what?

"How the hell did you get into my car?" I frown.

"Please, I'm the daughter of one of the most dangerous gangsters in America. I can break into a car."

I lift my brows in question.

"Fine. You left your key fob on the table," she says, pressing her body against my erection. "You seem eager to stay."

"Show me the way, princess. I'll show you how eager I am." I squeeze her ass.

As I follow her up the stairs, a rush of guilt hits me for enjoying her so much. This is about Amy, and I'm getting excited. I'm about to fuck this Italian goddess once more.

The Kings said this could take months and I might be completely wasting my time. Doing nothing is just not an option. Not when I have the skills and resources to try.

And hopefully not die trying.

These reflective moments are important, so I don't lose myself and who I really am. Nor why I am here.

Gianna is a tool.

I am using her.

I hope she is getting what she wants from me while I'm here.

When the door closes behind us, I yank on her arm and pull up her against my chest.

"I'm going to fuck you so damn hard tonight," I growl against her mouth. "You are a bad, bad, little mafia princess."

She whimpers.

What is wrong with me?

Is it all the adrenaline rushing through my system?

Either way, I want her naked and at my mercy.

"Take your clothes off and stand in the middle of the room." I order Gianna.

"Yes, sir." She shudders and pushes away from me, then strips.

I toss off my suit, shoes, and underwear and watch as she turns into the submissive little sex slave I am coming to crave. Her small, lean body stands before me as I circle her, dragging a finger across her breasts, then down over her bottom.

"Widen your legs," I tell her.

Licking her lips, she does as I tell her and my gaze dips to her hard nipples.

Fuck, she's gorgeous.

I stroke my cock and cup her pussy.

Frank's words come back to me. You cannot marry her, in any case.

Right now, the idea of another man even looking at Gianna creates a visceral and fierce reaction within me.

Fuck that.

No one is touching her.

"This belongs to me. Do you understand?" I tell her, surprised by the sound of my dominant, harsh voice.

"Yes," Gianna replies as glee sparkles in her globes.

She likes my possessiveness.

Sliding my fingers through her soft and shaven folds, I keep my eyes locked on hers as I keep stroking my cock.

"No one touches it. No one licks it. No one looks at it." I growl.

Not a word I'm saying is a lie.

I feel like I could kill a man if he tried.

"The only cock going inside your pretty little cunt is mine." I growl.

Gianna whimpers and I can feel her trembling as my fingers enter her.

"You are going to stand here and come on my hand for me while I masturbate." I use my thumb to stroke her clit as my fat fingers fuck her pussy.

I've never been more aroused in my life.

"Okay," she moans, her entire body shaking and stimulated. "Braxton, oh, god."

"Take it, squeeze my fingers." I groan, so fucking turned on as I watch her fall apart at my touch. "Such a naughty pussy. Craving my cock."

She nods, wobbling, but I won't let her touch me.

"I want your cock," Gianna pleads.

"Then come. Come now and I will fuck you." I lean in and soak up her electrifying desire.

Then she falls.

Her head throws back as she lets out a cry and her body crumples.

I catch her, my fingers sliding out of her pussy, as I wrap my arms around her. Gianna grabs hold of my arms, and then our mouths are smashing together.

Our tongues entwine while I carry her to the bed and with little caress, I drop her on the linen and spread her legs.

Then slam my cock inside her.

She's hot and dripping wet.

"Braxton," Gianna cries, gripping handfuls of the white duvet.

I fall over her, onto my elbow, and slam again and again until I spill every last drop inside her.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Why can I not remember to use a condom with this woman?

I know the answer.

I can barely remember my name.

She simply bewitches me.

"Tell me you are on birth control," I growl softly when we catch our breath.

Gianna shakes her head. "No."

I flop onto my back, and she curls into me.

I'll deal with this tomorrow. I came so hard my brain isn't functioning right now. And frankly, all I want to do is recover and do it again.