Sex and the Billionaire Crime Boss

Ch. 18: The Way You Make Me Feel

"Anyway, you know we had that conversation on the phone last week about what you imagined me doing in the casino," I start, and am amazed that I feel myself blushing. Seriously? After what happened last night, I'm blushing over a little almost phone sex?

"I wanted to take a picture of me holding these in my hand, and text it to you with a little quip about how since I didn't lose your money gambling, you'd have to think up another reason to spank me." I roll my eyes. "Guess I gave you one after all."

Max laughs. "Come over here."

I walk around the table and he pulls me onto his lap, puts his arms around me, and kisses me. It's a casual kiss, but it still packs some heat.

"You're adorable," he says.

"I'll take it," I tell him. "I'd prefer you have a brilliant legal mind, but—"

"That, too," Max says. "Obviously."

And I'm sorry I said anything because now we're both thinking about the changes I made to the agreements yesterday.

"Getting that text from you would have made me smile," Max says, steering our conversation back on course. "And be even more anxious to finish my meetings and go find you in the casino. But—"

"Yeah. I get it. Not worth me coming back up to the suite."

"You could have texted me from Gabe's phone."

I snort. "Right. Use Gabe's phone to send a suggestive text with the word spanking in it? Not likely."

"Text and delete," Max says.

"Well I didn't think of that."

"No," Max says, "you were too busy sneaking out of the ladies room while Gabe was waiting for you in the bar, and practically giving him a heart attack when he couldn't find you."

"I was going to text him on my way back down. He's not in trouble with you for losing track of me, is he?"

"No."

"I suppose I'll have to apologize when I see him." Which I'm not looking forward to, since the last he saw us Max was really angry at me. And I'm hoping Gabe didn't speculate too much about what went on after Max told him to leave.

"So, where are you going to spend it?" Max asks me, gesturing toward the casino chips on the table.

"Me? Oh, no, it's your money."

"Nonsense," Max says, "you won it."

"In that case, it's going into a nice safe investment. Not everybody's obscenely rich like you," I tell him. I shift myself in his lap to lean against his shoulder.

"So," I say, mustering up the courage to ask what I've been wanting to ask all morning. . "The mob? Vegas?"

Max goes quiet, and the air around us feels suddenly thick.

He sighs. "There are certain obligations I have. Things my father put in motion that cannot be ignored just because he's no longer in a position to handle them personally. I intended to keep you separate from that aspect of my life."

Now I'm wondering how many generations this goes back in Max's family. I know he wears his father's signet ring, and that it has some sort of significance. Was it passed down from his grandfather? From a generation before that?

It's starting to get through to me that the things Max is involved in are probably not just illegal but also very dangerous.

"Max," I say, "if this thing between us is going to be more than just a weekend of sex in Las Vegas, I want to know all of you, not just the version you edit for the news media and the society pages in Miami and the downtown business community. I want to know the real you."