His Mafia Queen

A Forbidden Kiss

"I have a proposal for you, Riley." It feels sinful to say her name on my lips, and I'd love to hear her crying out mine.

"Another one? I'm already your captive."

She eyes me, and I swear her expression is flirting with seduction. This is another point of confusion, and I'm thrown off my game. What does this woman want? She should be scared, but isn't. Which leaves me both turned on and suspicious. I'd normally think she was a plant from the Irish mafia, but I have no issues with them—never have done business with them, in fact—and she's been reasonably forthcoming.

I clear my throat. "You're free to leave."

"Now?"

I nod. "But if you do, you won't get the chance to interview me for that exclusive story you want."

"I see." She traces her bottom lip with her index finger, and I think about replacing her finger with my tongue.

Or my cock.

"What's the other option?"

"You stay with me for the weekend as my guest. You've seen your room, and I trust that it's comfortable, no?"

"It's pretty swanky."

"Perfect. If you stay, you'll accompany me to a charity ball tomorrow. We'll tell people you're doing a story and are shadowing me through everyday life. On Sunday, we'll sit down for a formal interview during brunch. On Monday morning, I'll drop you off at the paper or your apartment, and you should have enough to write a story on me and impress your editors."

Of course, I'm only going to show her the good, benevolent, and kind side of me. Tomorrow's charity event to benefit the local humane society is a perfect place for that, plus I forgot to line up a date while dealing with this Doyle bullshit. Usually, I could get one at a moment's notice, but Riley is a far better candidate for all sorts of reasons.

She wrinkles her nose. "I'm going to need—"

"A dress? Makeup? Don't worry. I'll provide everything."

"No, I was going to say, my phone and a notebook or two."

I shake my head. "No phones here. This is my sanctuary, and I don't trust you enough. I can't have private details of my space online. Notebooks, I can do. Pens, too."

Smiling, she pushes her chair away from the table and stands. I look up at her and raise one eyebrow. "So, what will it be?"

She eye-fucks me for a few long beats. "I can never resist a good story. I'll stay, Gabriel."

* * *

RILEY

Once again, I'm asking myself what the fuck I'm doing. But unlike my earlier meltdown in the room, I can't freak out, because I'm walking next to Gabriel. I very much am freaking out, though, because I've decided to stay here for the weekend.

It's one of the most irresponsible, wild things I've ever done. But what are my alternatives? Leave and not get the interview? I'd never forgive myself. Not take the chance to find out what makes this beautiful, enigmatic man tick?

No way. I'm grabbing this chance with both hands—although, grabbing might be the wrong verb when it comes to Gabriel.

We're in the grand entranceway again, and it's illuminated with what looks to be candlelight, but on a closer glance, is just a fancy, flickering lightbulb.

"Would you care for a nightcap? We can sit in the library, or back out on the terrace?" He gestures down the hall, and once again, my eyes go to his muscular forearms. I've always liked that on a man, and for a moment, I'm mute. Between that and his almost formal, slightly accented English, I'm captivated.

"Riley?"

"Uh, yeah?" Ugh, I'm coming off as flighty. It's essential that I put distance between the two of us, because I'm picking up serious want to fuck vibes. On both our parts. "I'm a little tired, after the events of today. Kidnapping really takes the sparkle out of a girl, you know."

He chuckles. "You're quite funny. I like your sense of humor."

"Yeah," I snort. "Seriously, I think I'd like to just rest."

"That's fine. I usually am in bed early, anyway, unless I have an event."

I narrow my eyes for a second.

"What?" he asks, his eyes wide with innocence.

"You don't look like an early-to-bed kind of guy."

He licks his full lips slowly while staring at me. My body ignites with heat in response. This man is dangerous on every level.

"I'm not going to say what I'm thinking right now." There's that lopsided smirk again. Damn him.

"Please don't," I snap. "I'll just head to my bedroom. You have a good night."

I give him a ridiculous little wave and power-walk down a hall.

"Wrong way," he calls out.

"Oh, shit," I mutter, and walk back toward him. There are four hallways connected to this foyer, and in my exhaustion and confusion, I have no idea where the bedroom is.

"I've always had a difficult time with directions," I confess.

"I'll walk you there. Come."

We stroll in silence down a dark hall, and my heart rate kicks up. Gabriel takes up so much space in confined areas like this, and it's difficult to ignore my body's response to him. Finally, we reach my bedroom door.

"I have something for you." He reaches into his pocket and takes out a key. "This is for the lock on your room. You're free to go whenever."

"Unless I want the story."

We're less than a foot apart now, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his skin. He holds the key between us, and I clasp it, and his hand.

I don't let go.

"Unless you want the story," he murmurs.

For, like, the millionth time tonight, we stare into each other's eyes. It's shocking how every time we look at each other, I get a jolt of electricity, a charge of something so wholly unfamiliar that it almost makes me dizzy. Giddy, even. I can smell the cedarwood of his cologne mingling with the sweetness of the brandy on his breath. I'm drunk on the nearness of him.

If this were any other man, I'd swear this thing between us was fate.

He takes a small step toward me. I keep holding onto his hand, and the key, and I step back. We do this again, and again, slowly, until my back is against the wall. Now we're six inches apart and you could pierce the sexual tension between us with a bullet. I don't think either one of us has blinked for a solid sixty seconds.

"Are you going to let me have that key?" I whisper.

A little smile dances on his lips. At this point, most men would nod, or say something coy, or ask if they could have a kiss.

Not Gabriel.

He leans in swiftly and presses his mouth to mine, wrapping his strong arm around my waist.

I'm startled for a second, but he's quick and wily, and uses that beat to pull me closer. The kiss steals my thoughts, robs me of oxygen. It's hard and punishing, filled with enough electricity to obliterate the storm outside. The coiling inside me that's been happening all night tightens even more, and I drink him in. He tastes like brandy, but something darker and dangerous, too. It's the taste of erotic nights and stark passion, of whispered secrets that will be forgotten and promises of the future that will be ignored.

I moan as he fuses our mouths together. My body reacts to him instantly, heat rushing to my cheeks and making my heart slam against my chest. I let myself enjoy this moment—even as I worry how it will affect my future. And make no mistake. This will affect everything that's to come.

I'm fucked, I just don't know how hard yet.