His Mafia Queen

Danger

Thank God I'd skipped the festivities.

During the party, a clan of Russians from Atlanta shot up the place, killing four people. They later killed Gia's father. Some would say they also killed Mickey Salerno, but that's never been proven. How Gia ended up with Ale — who was Mickey's underboss — is also a mystery. I have my theories about the entire incident, ones I've never shared with Gia or Ale.

Point being, the Russians have fucked with us before.

"What are your thoughts on how we should proceed?" I ask.

"We need to be vigilant."

"Of course."

"Do we still have someone on the inside in Atlanta?" A while back, we had a guy who had infiltrated a Russian gang in prison up in Georgia.

"We do. He's still there, and on our payroll. I've reached out to my contacts to get word to him."

More than likely, that means Alessandro's sending a lawyer to carry a message.

"Do we need to have an in-person meeting?" I mentally run through my calendar, which is packed with real estate development meetings, a sit-down with a hedge fund manager, and lunch with a judge.

"Probably wouldn't hurt. Let's talk with our capos and find out if they're hearing anything on the street. I was thinking you could tap your sources inside Wall Street, too."

"Will do." That's the thing with the Russians. In addition to murder, kidnapping, fraud and extortion, they also try to manipulate the world's financial markets.

"Thanks. For a meeting, how's later this week?"

"Busy, but I can clear my schedule. Or we can do it over the weekend."

"Hmm. Might not be a bad idea for a getaway. Bahamas?"

I knead my neck, which is now in knots from this conversation. "Yeah, that's do-able."

"Great. I'll make arrangements and be in touch."

He hangs up without a goodbye, and I softly place the phone on the table next to my book. I hadn't been drinking tonight, but this call warrants a Scotch. As I mix a drink, I think about how unusual it had been to have two guys go rogue within such a short period of time. Normally my guys were loyal, and I'd chalked up these two to being somewhat new, and extremely stupid.

But now, I'm finding that there might be something bigger going on. A chill runs down my spine and I swallow the Scotch in one gulp. I pour myself another.

I better get to the bottom of this before it gets out of hand. I don't need any more enemies than I already have. War is the last thing any of us need or want here in Florida. Normally, Alessandro, Donnie, and I run things smoothly.

Oh, fuck. What if the Russians are trying to take advantage of the power vacuum left behind by Donnie's death? Would it be better for us to appoint a capo in charge of that region? Or would the Russians attack that guy, too, and further destabilize the territory?

I'm standing at the window, looking out at the tropical plants, so absorbed in my thoughts that I flinch when I hear footsteps behind me.

I flinch and whirl around, my hand going automatically to my waistband where I normally keep my gun. But I don't carry it when I'm at home, and it's Riley.

She freezes, her eyes wide. "I-I'm sorry. Did I startle you?"

I blow out a breath as my muscles relax. "It's okay. Don't worry about it."

Riley takes a few hesitant steps into the room. "Are you okay? You look like you saw a ghost."

My gaze rakes down her body and I set my drink on the bar. Tonight her hair is long, wavy and loose, spilling over her shoulders. She's wearing a dress the color of mocha that's tight on top and low cut, so a hint of her delicious cleavage peeks out. The bottom of the dress hits at her knee and is almost demure, and the entire thing is hot as fuck. Plus the black heels make her legs look incredible.

I extend an arm, a silent plea for her to come to me. With a serious expression, she does, and I fold her into me. Even in heels she's quite a bit shorter. I close my eyes and inhale the floral, familiar scent of her hair.

"I'm so glad you're here," I mumble. Then it hits me: if we go to war with the Russians, Riley will be in the crossfire. Fuck. Ale and I need to fix this. Now. Even if it means a sit-down with those bastards.

Riley pulls back and cups my face in her hands. "Something's wrong. I can sense it."

Jesus, she's perceptive. It's essential I put on a brave face for her, so I smirk. "Just some business crap. Nothing major."

She nods, but I can tell she's not convinced. Her eyes lower to my mouth, then she leans in to brush her lips over mine. We kiss, slow and sensual, for a few minutes.

"You taste like Scotch."

"You taste like..." I smack my lips. "Coconut."

"Yeah, I had a fruity drink."

"How was your interview?"

She breaks away from me and sits on the sofa. Normally she sprawls, all sexy and catlike, but tonight she's in a guarded position, at the edge of the cushion with her arms crossed.

"I'm surprised you don't already know, Gabriel." Her voice is unusually cool.

I pick up my Scotch and take a sip. "What's that supposed to mean?"

She rolls her eyes. "Please. You know exactly who I was with."

Oh, Christ. That's right. She was with Catherine tonight. Somehow, I'd blanked out that detail after Alessandro's call. "Of course. Yes."

"After all, you had lunch with her."

"A brief lunch, between business appointments." Why does she seem so angry?

Riley's silent for a few beats, and I ask if she wants a drink.

She shakes her head. "Just water."

I pour her a glass and hand it to her. "Want to talk about whatever is bothering you?"

She takes a few long gulps of the water. "Oh, God, Gabriel. Where to start?"

This is not what I need right now. Not when a war's possibly brewing with the Russians. I run a hand through my hair. "Babe, it's been a long day."

"Catherine said you — and I quote — defended her to the death. When I asked her what that meant, she told me to ask you. What's she referring to?"

I swear out loud and turn away from Riley because I don't want her to see the annoyance written all over my face.

When I don't answer, Riley says in an accusatory tone, "Well?"

I whirl around, hoping I can steer her away from this conversation. "Do you want to go to the Bahamas with me this coming weekend? I have a meeting there, and my associate is bringing his wife. I think the two of you might get along."

Riley's eyes widen, then she huffs out a little laugh. "Excuse me?"

"The Bahamas. An exclusive resort. Beautiful beaches, a spa, amazing food. I've been wanting to take you there."

She's now laughing. "I can't believe you're doing this."

I can't believe Catherine put me in this situation. I drain my drink, then go to Riley, sinking to my knees at her feet. Maybe being in such a vulnerable position will make her believe me. Hell, I don't know anything anymore.

Resting my hands on her knees, I look at her pleadingly. "I just got some difficult news, so—"

"Gabriel," she cries. "You're always getting difficult news. There's always some drama. What the hell? Why can't you tell me the truth? Why can't you tell me what really went on between you and Cath? Because right now, I feel like a fool. I feel like you and Cath share some big, deep, dark secret, and I'll never be able to measure up."