RILEY
I am not one to back down from a fight.
I'm also not the kind of woman who will meekly stand by and let another woman tell me what to do. My mind goes to seventh grade, when a group of older girls cornered Lorna and I as we walked home from school. They teased us for our sneakers, real stupid kid stuff. We'd bought identical ones at a discount store together, because that was all our families could afford. We thought they were cute, all pink and white and fake leather.
Lorna didn't care that the shoes were cheap. I did. And when those girls told us how ugly they were, how hideous we were, I came back with a resounding fuck you because I was ashamed and angry. I'd never said those words out loud to anyone at that point in my life, but I'd heard them enough from my dad.
I got my ass beaten that day by one of those girls, but I managed to throw a couple of good punches, too. It was probably the one and only time Dad was proud of me.
I stare at Lexi, defiant. That same mix of shame and rage is coursing through me as my gaze settles on her beautiful face. Telling a well-known journalism professional to fuck off would be inappropriate and a potential career-killer if that got around town, so I do it in a more polite way.
"Thanks for the advice." I shoot her a simpering smile and fluff my hair, which is holding the big, bouncy waves well. At least my hair looks amazing tonight and I'm drawing all my power from that right now.
"I'm serious, Riley," she says in a soft voice. "You seem like a nice girl. Smart. You probably have a great career ahead of you."
Now I'm getting annoyed. I turn to her. "You don't know shit about me, with all due respect. You don't know where I'm from, don't know anything about my life experience, don't know my motivation. You think I'm just some girl who's dickmatized by the all-powerful Gabriel Greco. And yeah, he's hot, I'll give you that. But I'm here tonight for work. And even if I am that kind of reporter to fuck a source for info, I'd appreciate if you would keep your advice to yourself. I can handle my own life and my own career."
Lexi smiles, and I see a glimmer of admiration in her eyes. It wasn't something I was looking for, but I'll take it nonetheless.
"I'm sorry," she says. "I feel protective of younger reporters. Especially here in Tampa where I started." She chews on her cheek and continues. "There's a lot that goes on in the city and hardly no one covers it. Probably because it's dangerous. I'd hate to see something happen to you."
A thought comes to me, and I decide to pounce on her kindness. "Let me ask you something. Did you know James Doyle?"
She rolls her eyes. "I did, he was a true piece of shit, and I heard that he's disappeared."
"Do you think Gabriel had something to do with it?" My arms fold protectively over my chest, as if I'm bracing for her answer.
She shakes her head. "Gabriel is a lot of things, but he's not a murderer. He wouldn't kill Doyle. People like Doyle are too important to him."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Gabriel likes to have useful idiots to do his bidding. He has them all over the city council, in the court houses, in the prosecutor's offices. Everywhere. He'd rather have people as his friends than his enemies. That's what separates him from others of his kind. But that's off the record, you know that, right?"
I nod. She's not telling me anything I didn't know, and I doubt she will. She's just as distrustful of me as I am of her.
"How long are you in the city for?" I ask. Maybe somehow, I can wear her down, perhaps under the guise of being a mentor.
She snaps her sparkly silver clutch shut. "Only until tomorrow. It's too bad because I would love to hang out with you. Really. I'm not some jealous ex-lover."
Lexi laughs and continues, "Well, I am an ex-lover, but I'm not jealous. I just don't want you to get hurt. I would hate to see you ruin your career for Gabriel or ruin your life by looking into stories that you don't quite understand because you're new here."
She seems genuine. Misguided but genuine. Maybe someone who's too entrenched in the system to really get to the rotten core of this city as a journalist. But that's not my problem. I grin, and in a twisted way, I'm grateful for her. She's just one more piece of the Gabriel puzzle, and I've got a long way to go before I solve the entire thing.
"Be careful," she whispers, and saunters out.
I lean against the counter, staring into my own eyes in the mirror. I chant my new mantra—what the fuck—over and over. In the span of twenty-four hours, I've gotten embroiled in some true bullshit. Maybe Lexi's right. Is it too much for me as a newcomer? These aren't my people.
I heave a sigh. It's time to return to the party, and to Gabriel.
I summon my courage and walk slowly out of the bathroom. There's no one in the narrow corridor. It's dark, and has the ambience of an alley, foreboding and ominous. I speed up my steps, my ridiculous heels grating against my skin. I can feel the flesh tear with each strike of my heels on the tile. I can't wait to get these damn things off.
The door to the main ballroom is only a few steps away when I feel a hand on my upper arm. I gasp when I'm pulled into a corner.
"I was worried about you." It's Gabriel, and his tone is rough and ominous.
"What, did you think I escaped from your clutches?" I sneer.
He stares at me almost as if he's angry, the muscles in his sharp jaw pulsing.
"God dammit, Riley."
He clamps his hand around the back of my neck and pulls me into a punishing kiss. At first I try to wiggle away, not because I don't want it, but because I want to defy him simply to find out what he will do.
But his lips are too seductive, and within seconds, I give in. We're full-on French kissing, devouring each other. His mouth is all over mine, tearing at my lips with a force that's almost animalistic. He bites my bottom lip hard, and I taste blood. I'm horrified. Revolted. But my body responds to his kiss anyway. I shut my eyes and allow myself to sink into his depravity.
His rough, demanding lips, his skillful tongue. The smell of his cologne and his fever-hot body.
He pulls back and I whimper.
"You don't think I'm capable of being worried about you?"
"Here? What's going to happen to me?" I practically spit back.
He holds my face in his hands a little too hard. "Anything. Anything could happen to you if you're with me. You need to learn that, tesoro. I don't know what you're used to in Boston but this is a whole different scene."
I snort. "Shut up and kiss me, asshole."
"Fucking greedy little girl," he growls, and obliges me.
But this time, his lips are soft, almost too soft, for my needs. I want harder, rougher. I press into him, wanting more of his weight against me. I want him to grind against my pussy like we're fucking.
As if he can read my mind, he grabs my hips and slams me against the wall. We're in a darkened nook off the hallway, partially obscured by anyone walking by.
I gasp, my nails digging into his biceps. His bowtie is coming loose.
"What do you want?" he murmurs.
"I want you inside me," I reply, my chest heaving.
He leans into my ear, his hot breath tickling me. "You're going to have to wait for that, because I don't take my dick out in public."
He turns to me and presses my palm against his crotch. He's rock hard.
My grip tightens on his cock, the fabric of his tuxedo pants the only thing keeping me from stroking him. "I thought you didn't fuck in public?"
His hand snakes up my bare leg, under my dress. "Let me feel," he whispers slowly, as his fingers find his way to the edge of my thong panties.
It dawns on me what he's doing and a mix of thrill and fear shoots through me. "Here? You're going to touch me right here?"
"Isn't that what you want?"
It is, but I can't say it aloud. It's too shameful.
"Let's see. Hmm." He's shoved aside my panties. I'm soaking wet and he's rubbing my pussy lips.
"I've been dying to touch your pussy for hours," he murmurs, and his warm breath sends a chill across my skin. "Now that I've got you here, all by myself, I'm going to touch you as much as I want."
He rakes his fingers through my drenched slit. "Do you think you can come right here at this party? While all those people are behind that door over there?" he asks.
I whimper and he thrusts his fingers deep inside me. I squeeze my legs together, trying to stop the pressure, but his hand is persistent, caressing and stroking, plunging and circling. I lean against the wall, my heels teetering, my legs parted. He pushes a finger inside me, then another, and slowly works them, building a delicious sensation through my cunt.
"I could just take you into the men's room and fuck you," he says, as if he's considering a business deal.
"No, I mean, maybe?" I stammer.
He chuckles, while sliding his fingers out of me so he can torture my clit. I'm swollen and needy, and I press my face into his neck.
I rock against his hands as his fingers work me. He's teasing my clit and I can barely stand it.
"You're close, aren't you?"
"Yeah," I whisper
"I'm not sure if I want you to come right here," he says, his voice a tease.
"Please?"
"It's a bit early to beg, isn't it?" He kisses me softly while stroking my sensitive nub. His mouth hovers over mine. "Yes, it's too early to beg."
He slowly removes his hand from me, while keeping his eyes locked on mine. The hallway is illuminated by only a couple of wan, red lights, and he looks like the devil incarnate right now.
He raises the hand that was inside me and licks his own index finger. Then he laughs.
"You're a dick." I straighten my dress, thoroughly annoyed that such a maddening man made me so horny.
He smirks. "Every time you use that smart mouth of yours, it's going to cost you."
"Yeah, right." But I know he's not joking, and I love it. Damn him.
"It's time to go home," he says, pulling me down the hall and once again into the ocean of fake, rich people. With his hand clutching mine, we walk—well, he walks, I practically stumble, I'm so shaken by what happened in the hall—through the crowd without saying a word.
It's almost humiliating, but in a thrilling way, to be led by him in public like this. I keep my gaze on the floor, but when we're almost at the door, I glance up and spot Lexi. She's staring at us as we walk out into the steamy night air.
Her face is filled with a caution meant only for me. By climbing in the back of Gabriel's limo, still wet and wanting from his touch, I know I'm going to ignore all the many red flags for the rest of the night. Because I want him too much to stop what we've already started.