His Mafia Queen

An Aphrodesiac

RILEY

I show up at Gabriel's house at eight on the dot, and my new car looks picture perfect in the driveway of the mansion. Like a freaking car commercial.

I, on the other hand, stick out like a turd in a punchbowl.

Tonight I'm wearing my usual after-work attire: faded jeans, sneakers, and a black tank top emblazoned with a cartoon vampire cat that says VAM-PURR. No jewelry, very little makeup, hair in a messy ponytail. It's the polar opposite of what I looked like Saturday night. It's even different than earlier today, when I was in my work dress and heels.

Maybe this is some sort of a defense mechanism because all I can think when I walk up to his imposing front door is that I want him to see the real me. The me that's not glamorous, the me that's not created by him. The plain Jane me, the girl from Southie.

The door swings open, and he's standing just inches away. Looking clean and delicious and completely, heartbreakingly formal.

"You're.... You're..." I stammer, eventually dissolving into a giggle. "Sorry. I was planning on taking you to Roy's on the River. I think you're a tad overdressed."

That's a well-known, ramshackle bar known for its live garage bands, its messy grouper sandwiches, and its strong drinks in plastic cups.

He blinks, eyes me up and down, and laughs. "So I guess a blazer, sweater, dress shirt, trousers and boots aren't appropriate."

I shake my head and he reaches for my wrist, pulling me toward him, inside of his lair. In his expensive outfit, he looks so much older than me. Well, he is older, but the chasm feels different now that we're standing side-by-side.

But it's not like I have time to dwell on this because he's pulling me in for a scorching kiss, one I can't resist.

"I love your tank top," he growls against my mouth.

"Thanks. Seriously. You might want to change for where we're going."

"Mmm. You sure you don't want to stay in?"

I step back. It would be so easy to stay here in this luxurious house. To eat dinner here, drink expensive liquor, then fall into his bed and enjoy hours of pleasure. But that's not what I want. Okay, it is, but not entirely.

I want answers about Doyle, and I need to know why Gabriel's so insistent on spending time with me. Screwing will only complicate that.

"Go. Get ready. Shoo." I pat him on the ass, and he laughs.

"Fine. Fine! Want to join me while I change?" It's difficult to resist those flashing dark eyes. He winks.

"No, silly Just go. I'm starving."

I'm saved by Reese, who sprints into the foyer. "I'll stay here with the dog."

Gabriel sighs dramatically and walks up the stairs, while I plop down on the floor and allow Reese to lick my face. Of all the things in Gabriel's world, this pupper is one I could truly fall in love with.

We spend a solid five minutes cuddling. Because I'm afraid of big dogs, my instant ease with Reese is nothing short of a miracle. He even allows me to hug him, the little fur ball.

"Maybe you should come live with me," I say to Reese. "You can be my roommate. My bestie. I'll take you for a walk every day, and to the dog beach. Would you like that?"

"You planning on kidnapping my dog?" Gabriel walks toward me. He's now in a faded blue T-shirt that stretches over his muscles, cute tan shorts, and classic white sneakers. Suddenly he looks younger, and I stand up, unable to help myself from grinning.