CHAPTER EIGHT

brAXTON

G ood one, idiot.

Now I have to pretend to have a thirty-minute meeting.

With myself.

Because there's no fucking meeting. At the time, it felt like something that would appeal to Gianna—me not being available all evening—and I was right. A woman in her position is propositioned constantly by men wanting something from her.

Like I do.

But I'm smarter.

And desperate.

Every day counts for Amy. Or it's already too late. But that's on her mother. Tracey should have told us Amy was missing. That she didn't makes me furious at least a thousand times a day.

I step out onto the balcony of the Dufort Hotel and slide a hand into one of my pockets, then hold my mobile phone to my ear.

I may as well check in with the Dark Kings while I have privacy.

"Please tell me I didn't just lose two hundred dollars," Mack answers.

I frown. "What?"

"It's ten after midnight. If you aren't busy fucking her, I can assume she rejected you. Damn Decker. I was sure you'd score."

"Okay, first, I'm wounded," I say, slamming my hand against my chest even if he can't see me. "Second, thanks for betting on me."

"You're welcome," Mack says. "Wait, did I or didn't I just lose my money."

"Keep your wallet closed. Ms. Baldassare is propped up in my bed, glowing, while I have a fictitious meeting."

"Why?"

"Long story," I mutter. "But you need to talk to me for thirty minutes."

Silence.

"I don't have that much to say," Mack replies.

I chuckle.

"Both of you go to damn sleep," Summer says in the background.

Damn, I forgot he had a fiancé.

"I'll let you go. Thanks for answering." I tell Mack.

"Always will when we have a Dark King undercover," he tells me, and I don't correct him as I hang up.

I'm not one of them.

And I'm not yet inside the Baldassare family.

But I will be.

I saw the way Gianna was looking at me as she came.

So that's great—we are on track with the plan. But I'm uncomfortable with the way I felt as I sunk deep inside her. There was a connection between us which shouldn't exist. It has no place in these plans.

My body roared at the feel of her wrapped around my cock. Her pussy snug and intoxicating as I tried to keep my head.

When I had her pinned against the shower wall and her hair was dripping around her face while I slammed into her, I almost lost myself in the heat and pleasure of her.

I tell myself this is a good thing.

Faking an attraction would be impossible.

Gianna is an intelligent woman.

Taking it to the next level will require skill. Gianna might love the dirty and dominant man in the bedroom, but she won't take an asshole home to meet her father.

Nor will she do that unless she believes I'm worthy.

Or has a personal investment in doing so.

An idea suddenly comes to me. It's a long shot, but one I think might work. I wait another ten minutes, then walk back inside, where I find Gianna asleep.

Her long brunette locks are spread out across the pillows like a dark angel, and I can hear her soft breathing. The duvet is sitting just below one breast and I can't help myself. I walk over, stripping, and sit on the edge of the bed.

I should let her sleep.

I should walk out of her life.

But I do neither.

My thumb and finger roll the dark flesh as I watch her body gently move in reaction. Then I push the linen down farther and find her legs parted.

My cock is hard as a rock, pressed against my abs as I continue helping myself to her body. I drop my mouth to her breast and slide my fingers through her pussy. I smile as she gasps erotically as she wakes.

"Brax," she moans, and I like the nickname she gives me.

Vigorously I fuck her pussy with my hand and as she grows eager, I pull her out of the bed and onto my lap.

Then onto my cock.

We both cry out, filling the room with our sounds of pleasure.

"Fuck me, Gianna. Fucking hell."

I don't wait for her to wake fully and move. I grip her hips and fuck her until I fill her with my come.

FUCK.

No condom.

How could I have been so goddamn stupid?

As she collapses against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her, I stare at the wall and see my future crumble before me.

Or rather, her father shooting me in the head.

"I'm clean." I rasp.

"Me too." She lifts her head. "I'll get the morning-after pill tomorrow."

I take her chin. " We will get it."

I'm not taking any chances. The last thing I need to do is get a mafia princess pregnant.

Jesus fucking Christ.

––––––––

I GOT ALL of thirty minutes of sleep last night as I ran through stage two of my plan.

And imagined Gianna pregnant with my child.

It was both a nightmare and...weird.

Weird as in it fucked with my brain. One minute I found myself with another hard-on, completely turned on by the image of her swollen with my baby inside her. Then I imagined myself proposing.

The final imaginary movie premiere showed me floating along the Hudson River.

Not in a boat, if you get my drift.

Something shifted between us after that happened. A more somber vibe and I'm worried it's fucked everything up.

We're now on our way to breakfast, then to the pharmacy, as James and the other security dude walk behind us.

"You didn't need to do this," Gianna says, running her hand down the mid-length cream wool dress I had delivered for her.

Mia arranged it, saying it would be a nice touch, so Gianna didn't have to do the walk of shame the next day.

It worked well.

Now she thinks I'm wealthy, dangerous, mysterious, and thoughtful, along with being a brilliant lover.

I'm none of those things.

I know my way around a woman's body.

Hers is my current favorite.

"You look fucking beautiful," I say, placing my hand on the small of her back as our eyes lock and the door to the restaurant opens.

I'm not lying. She is stunning. Knowing she doesn't have panties underneath makes it even sexier.

We're greeted and directed to a table at the restaurant we choose for breakfast.

"Gianna," James says, and she turns. "Your father wants you home this afternoon."

Wow.

She's twenty-five years old...and a mobster's daughter, so I zip my lips.

"Okay." Gianna nods, and then we continue to our table and place our orders.

"Are you an only child?" I ask, digging into my eggs Benedict.

"I have a brother." Gianna chose oatmeal with fresh fruit. "What about you?"

Being undercover means always being on guard. I nearly told her about my two brothers but caught myself. However, the Dark Kings said it was always best to stick as close to reality as possible. While keeping details slim.

"Two brothers. In banking," I reply, then take another mouthful. "They don't know what I do. Not really."

She watches me.

"Sorry," I say, dropping my utensils and wiping my mouth. "I've assumed you know more than you possibly do. My apologies."

A risky comment.

Gianna glances across the room and appears to be choosing her words carefully. "I know enough."

Interesting.

A non-answer, but I don't want to offend her any more than I have, so I tilt my head. "Well, aren't you a surprise?"

She lifts her coffee and halts it before it hits her lips. "No. I think I've misled you. I don't work in the business; I just pay attention."

I study her as she drinks and lowers the cup.

I doubt the really dark stuff is out in the open for the mafia princess to see, but I could be wrong.

"No offense, but I'm happy to hear that."

"Why? You don't think a woman can be a gangster?" she laughs.

I want to snarl.

I want to grip her neck and yank her close to me and tell her that there is no way I would let her get anywhere near the people and danger involved in the crime world.

But she is near it.

And her father keeps her well protected.

"If you were my wife, you wouldn't," I say before I can stop myself.

She laughs. "Well, let's go get that medication before you are forced to marry me."

I choke, and Gianna reaches to pat me on the back.

"Jesus, Gianna. Don't joke about that." I toss a couple of hundred-dollar bills on the table and lead her out of the restaurant.

We find a pharmacy and get the pills, which she abruptly takes, and then we stand on the sidewalk staring at one another.

"Well..." She smiles at me.

"I want to see you again." I say, cupping her face as I simultaneously push the button on my phone in my pocket.

It lets off a beep as I planned.

"Excuse me." I pull out the phone. "This is urgent and won't take a minute."

James hovers a few feet behind her as I take the fake call.

"Rossi." I take a step away, then in a dark growl I know she can hear, I say, "I hope this is better news than last night."

I stay silent as if listening.

Then throw my head back dramatically.

"You have to be fucking kidding me!" I check myself, glancing at Gianna as if in apology. "The entire shipment?!"

I fake listen.

"That's four hundred million fucking dollars." I ground out sort of quietly.

But she can hear me.

"Get me the names. Two hours. I will be there tomorrow." I growl darkly, then end the call, looking pissed off.

I walk back to Gianna, ignoring her tense security, and cup her face.

"I'm sorry, Gianna. Something has come up."

Her face falls. "What is it?"

"I need to return to Europe." I shake my head, annoyed. "You were amazing. Every inch of you." I drop my lips to hers and roughly kiss her.

"For how long?"

I smile inside.

Come to daddy, sweetheart.

Or rather, take me to yours.