My mouth goes dry.
Mikhail Barinov?
“So, he’s out of town?” I ask.
“No.” She smirks and nudges open the bathroom door. “He’s at lunch with his—friends,” she says like she’s trying the word out for the first time to describe them.
“The Russian kind of friends who are family?” I don’t want to be right, but I have it on good authority that the Russian Bratva is in town from New York.
We’re both meeting with the same angel investor.
Aleksandra gasps as she turns on the shower spray. I’m not sure if it’s the temperature or my remark.
“You’re Italian Mafia?” she glances at me over her shoulder. “I was joking earlier, out on the beach. Damn.”
She spins around to face me, her gaze pinning me. The desire hasn’t been diminished in the slightest by this newfound knowledge.
Being with her is dangerous.
And it makes the encounter between us a thousand times hotter. At any moment, we could be discovered and found out.
She slides the glass shower panel aside and steps in beneath the spray, dipping her head back.
“Your brother is Pakhan, head of the bratva?” This isn’t just dangerous. Being with her is deadly. She could have me murdered.
Aleksandra squeezes the water from her hair as I yank her hips against mine, crushing her to me. I’m rough with her, and she emits the quietest purr, her eyelids heavy.
“Yes, if he catches us, you’re dead. We’re both dead,” she whispers. Her pale blue eyes match the color of the sea. I’m transfixed by her stare.
“Then we can’t get caught,” I say. I cover her mouth with mine and guide my leg between her thighs, listening to the heavenly moans that spill past her lips.
She tastes like strawberries and whipped cream. Her skin is soft like velvet and warm from the shower’s heat. It takes every ounce of strength not to pound into her, break her.
“I’ve been in contact with the dons in Chicago, Los Angeles, and Breckenridge. They will be staying at the complex while we assemble.”
“What would you like me to do, sir?” Ardian asks.
Is the complex warm, or are my thoughts of her making me perspire? It’s easy to pretend she doesn’t mean anything to me, that it was just a fling. But the child, the boy, Liam, could he be mine?
“Sir?” Ardian clears his throat in a mild attempt to get my attention.
“Make sure the rooms are adequate and ready for company. I’ve invited their families and anyone who’s been threatened by the bratva into our home for protection.”
“Do they not have suitable protection of their own, sir?” Ardian asks.
I don’t know. I am not usually the one who handles looking after each mafia group. There are many across America, at least one in each major city. We run independently, but on occasion call on each other for help when it is necessary.
I’ve never had the pleasure of sitting in on a meeting with the other dons. That had been Roberto’s responsibility. But he’s dead, and I’m in charge.
* * *
Private flights have been chartered. Arrangements have been made to bring the bosses and their most trusted advisors to our meeting, scheduled for tomorrow morning.
But I can’t get Aleksandra out of my head.
Mikhail Barinov’s head will be called for, and his complex burned to the ground. It doesn’t take four of the most powerful men together to know that we’re not waging war on peace.
The men will want vengeance for what Mikhail has done, threatening our families and homes, our livelihood.