His Mafia Queen

Waves of Pleasure

Riley

The next morning, the rain is pouring down in New York City, pelting the hotel windows with a steady staccato. The sound is comforting, reminding me of my time here in the city when I was in college. Life was so simple then. I'd laze around my dorm room, read in bed, call Lorna...

I'm not ready to leave the warmth and comfort of this bed. Or the memories flitting through my mind.

"Hey, sleepyhead," Gabriel says. His words are kind, but something about the tone is off. Or maybe it's me who is different today. Last night, hell, the entire day, was so...weird.

He presses a quick kiss against my temple, and I release a breath I didn't know I was holding.

Thank God he's not acting moody like last night. He'd been more dominant than usual in bed, and what he'd made me do after his orgasm was a little humiliating — but also a turn-on. How can he inspire those feelings in me? Light and dark, loving and dominating.

Good and evil.

"Blergh," I reply to him, burrowing into the sheets. "Can we get room service?"

"Nope. We can grab coffee and a muffin downstairs. We have an appointment."

I sit up, alarmed. "What time is it? What's the appointment? Is your sister going?"

The last thing I want is to spend another day with Mia. In small doses she's probably okay, but there's a wildness to her that frightens me. Kind of like Cath, but even more unpredictable. So strange, considering Gabriel's the opposite, with his cool, calculating demeanor.

He's standing in front of a mirror, adjusting his shirt collar. "It's nine. And no, my sister won't be joining us until later. We have to be at the Met by eleven."

"The museum?" I'm thoroughly confused now.

"The museum."

"Why?"

"We have a private tour of a new surrealist art show. We're among the first people to see it. I had to pull several strings and call in a big favor, but I think we'll enjoy it."

"Okay," I say slowly, stunned that he's gone to all this trouble for an art exhibition. Then again, Gabriel's house is filled with expensive modern art, so I guess this makes sense. This tour is more for him than me. Still, I love the Met and haven't been in years.

I flip the covers aside and pad over to my suitcase. "I've never had a private tour of the Met before. I mean, why would I, since I was a student when I lived here. I can't imagine what it took to snag a private tour."

Gabriel comes over and stares into my suitcase. "Wear something comfortable, and shoes that won't give you blisters today. We're going to be out for several hours."

I nod, but inside my stomach clenches at his frosty tone. Something has shifted between us, and I'm not exactly sure what. It's something I can feel, but not something I can explain.

"Will do," I say in a fake, bubbly voice, and head into the bathroom.

I quickly change into a casual skirt, a button-down blouse and sneakers, opting for comfort over style. As I tie my hair into a messy bun, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Dark circles linger under my eyes, evidence of the restless night I spent tangled in Gabriel's desires. But I push aside my weariness and slap on some lipstick, determined to make the most of this unexpected excursion.

When I step out of the bathroom, Gabriel is waiting by the door, his eyes scanning my attire with an intensity that sends a shiver down my spine. His gaze lingers on my breasts, and a hint of a smirk plays on his lips. I swallow hard, suddenly aware of the power he holds over me, the way he can effortlessly command my attention and ignite my desire.