Holy hell, this is bad with a capital B.
When my eyes finally flutter open, I see the smug, satisfied look on his face. I let my leg fall back to the floor and pull down my dress, my short, sharp gasps making my chest quake. “So that was your plan all along? Pull me into a dark area and finger fuck me?”
He shrugs, a wicked twinkle in his eye. “It’s not like you stopped me.”
“Maybe I was due for a little release,” I grumble as he puts himself back together. I chew my bottom lip. And it was great, but I’m a little defeated, to be honest. He was able to make me come undone faster than I’d ever thought possible, and I just get a little pre-cum in exchange?
I wanted to see him unravel the way I just did.
The way I want to again.
The way I never will, though, because I’ve been here for far too long.
I put my hand against his chest and push him away from me. “Thanks for that,” I say, with a flip of my fake hair. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’d really like to use the ladies’ room, the whole reason why I came back here in the first place.” I smirk at him. “See, I wasn’t actually trying to get off.”
“Shocker,” he murmurs, reaching around and grasping my ass. “I guess I had you pegged for a different girl.”
What in the hell is that supposed to mean?
He stands back and nods toward the door next to us. “I’ll be waiting.”
I allow my lips to curl upward in a seductive grin. Yes, sweetie, but you have no idea how long of a wait you’re in for. Then, I pull open the door and walk inside.
When the door closes, I quickly lock it. Thank God it’s a one-person restroom with a window, a fact Romeo may have wanted to check before he let me come in here. I guess he thinks if I come out with some kind of weapon he might have overlooked, he’ll be prepared because he’s in the offensive position standing out there like some kind of sexy AF bodyguard.
But I don’t plan on ever seeing him again.
I quickly pull off my wig and all of the hair pins that were keeping it in place, allowing my light blonde hair to tumble over my shoulders. Then I pluck out my colored contact lenses and strip off my dress and heels, shoving everything into the trash. I squint at my reflection in the mirror.
I open my bag and pull out my phone, eyeglasses, a rubber band, a pair of tiny Nike pro Spandex shorts, and a pair of mesh sneakers that I can literally roll up and stuff into my smallest bag. In less than a minute, I look like I’m just out for a brisk jog on this balmy summer evening in Brighton Beach.
Then I unlock the window and lift it slowly, giving myself just enough space to slip out of the room and into the darkness. Luckily, the side of the bar the bathrooms is on is a relatively quiet cross street, so nobody is there to witness me shimmy out of the place in basically glorified underwear. I look left and right, tighten my ponytail, and adjust my shorts before trotting down the street, away from Velvet Lounge away from Vigo and Tatiana, and away from the most erotic experience I never should have had in the first place.
It’s about damn time I closed the book on tonight.
My phone vibrates and I hold it to my ear. “Hi.”
“Anya,” Uncle Boris hisses into my ear. “Is it done?”
“Of course,” I say in a perky voice as I keep up my brisk pace.
“Good,” he replies. “It’s time to discuss the next part of your job. I’ll meet you at home.”
“Perfect, I’m on my way.”
I peek over my shoulder but I’m still by myself. And even if I wasn’t, I look nothing like the little tart who just got finger-fucked by a slick Italian guy who may or may not have been waiting to ice me back at the lounge.
“And be prepared. This one’s gonna take a little time,” he says gruffly. “You’ll need to pack a bag because you’re headed to Las Vegas in the morning.”
Chapter Six
Dante
How fucking long is this gonna take?
I peer at my watch.
Five minutes have passed.
Feels like hours.
And I can’t hear a goddamn thing from where I’m standing outside the door.
I rake a hand through my hand and lean back against the wall. I tailed her to make sure she didn’t pull a fast one and escape out the back door, yet something inside of me snapped as I followed her.
Watching her stalk through the crowd in that tight red dress, her perfect ass swinging with every angry step she took, dark hair my fingers itch to fist cascading down her bare back…I couldn’t help myself.
And she couldn’t pull off her little shrinking violet act, hard as she tried. That woman killed Vigo — I’d stake my life on it. The reason why is still eluding me, and it makes me wonder who else might be on her hit list.
Because if I know one thing, she’s Russian mafia.
I saw the star when she pulled the key out of her bra at Tatiana, and again just now when I was feasting on her tits.
That kind of ink can’t be mistaken for anything other than a rite of passage.
She’s killed for that five-pointed star, more than once.
And her sob story about that ‘interview’ gone wrong was complete crap.
The only thing Vigo interviews women for are his very special positions, and I guarantee none of them involve walking around his casino slinging drinks.
Knowing all of that didn’t stop me from kissing her, though, or from launching that erotic invasion against her. I can still feel her slim leg snaked around my hip, clenching me tight as I drive my fingers into her soft, wet pussy.
My cock jerks at the thought and I swallow a groan.
This was not the goddamn plan!
All I needed to do was find out what the hell Conor was up to, eliminate the threat to our families, and hop a flight back to Vegas.
Now I’ve got a gorgeous bratva assassin to contend with, and she has information I need.
Information I was supposed to get from Vigo before his throat was impaled with a steel blade.
The big question is, can I get what I need from her without getting stabbed myself?
Or worse…
My phone vibrates against my pants and I pull it out, stabbing the Accept button.
“Yeah?” I grunt.
“Did you take care of things?” It’s Matteo. I squeeze my eyes shut and press a clenched fist against my forehead.
“No. Someone else did,” I say in a low voice.
“Fuck,” he mutters. “Conor?”
“I don’t know.” I stare at the closed door, willing it to open as Matteo unloads on me. “We got there too late.”
“Do you know anything, Dante?” he yells. “I sent you in there to collect information!”
“Yeah, well, I got some information, but it wasn’t enough, okay? I didn’t get to the target in time.” I let out a frustrated sigh. “Listen, we can talk tomorrow when I get to the hotel. I’m still working an angle here.”
“Don’t fucking tell me that angle is lying spread-eagle and naked on your bed!”
I roll my eyes. If only. But I don’t tell him about the girl. Not yet. I still don’t have a clear-enough read on her or why she killed Vigo, and even though I want to bend her over a couch and fuck her until she can’t remember her alias, I plan to get the information I need before this night is over. “No, I’m still out with Patty. But I may have a lead.” That’s all I offer right now. I know my brother, and if I gave him anything more, he’d keep me on the phone hounding me for details I just don’t have to offer.
“You’d better grab hold of that goddamn lead before you get on the plane. We need to know what we’re up against. That’s why I sent you in, Dante. I didn’t send Roman, I didn’t send Sergio. I sent you because you’re the best at what you do. Please don’t fuck with my perception of you.”
“Look, this is a sensitive job, Matty. That’s why you wanted me to handle things. I could set fire to the whole fucking place, but that wouldn’t get us any closer to the truth. We found out Conor owed a debt. That’s it. I don’t have the details, though. Vigo’s vocal cords were, ah, a little bit compromised, you know what I’m saying?”