Page 8 of Married to the Mafia Monster

I return my attention to the screen. She’s appeared in the footage, coming out of the bathroom, her movements hesitant and weary.

Been working here for a week under her own name. Her father didn’t tell her to change her name. That made her too easy to find.

My brow furrows. If I could find her this easily, so could Russo. Does she have any idea of the danger she’s in?

She crosses to the window, closing the drapes before starting to undress for bed, her hands trembling slightly as she unbuttons her blouse.

My body reacts involuntarily to the sight, my cock stiffening as her bra comes into view. I remember the sight of her hard nipples through that soaking wet top. I think of taking them into my mouth one after the other, listening to see what kind of moan she makes.

Mixing business with pleasure is a fatal mistake.

It shouldn’t matter that she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. She is the key to solving all my problems. I need to focus on the job.

I shouldn’t have asked her to join me in the shower earlier. She’s too innocent. I would destroy her if I brought her into my world.

When I was a kid, a teacher brought in this tiny delicate flower she’d found, wanted us all to see it, talking some shit about pollination or whatever it was we were supposed to be learning. She handed it around but when I stuck my hand out, she wouldn’t let me hold it. I begged her, said I’d be careful this time.

So she relented but the moment I got hold of it, Bobby Driscoll shoved me in the small of the back. I turned to punch him, forgetting the flower was in my fist.

She started yelling and I unpeeled my fingers and found that little flower crushed. The pieces fell to the carpet and I was in trouble yet again.

That’s what I do. I destroy things. I’m fucking good at it too. It’s how I ended up with this career. So why am I looking away from the screen and giving her some privacy to get changed into her pajamas?

I should be watching her right now, paying attention to every little detail. I should be looking for clues, not getting a hard on like some fucking sex-starved teenager. It’s a job. Just one more job. Who gives a shit what she looks like?

I glance back at the screen when I’ve got a hold of myself. Fate has got to be messing with me. She’s in bed and by the look on her face, it’s a safe bet she’s masturbating. Her eyes are closed. Under the blankets her hips are shifting in place, her hand between her legs.

Desire surges through me, and I force myself to look away again, my own hands clenching into fists as I fight the urge to run downstairs and kick open her door, swap her hands for my tongue.

I reach for the control to switch off the camera, conscience battling with my sense of duty. I shouldn’t watch this. She’d kill me if she knew I could see her right now.

But as my finger leans forward to shut the computer down, I glimpse a shadow moving in the corner of the footage. I look closer.

Someone is easing her bedroom door open. She hasn’t noticed. Whoever it is, they picked her electronic lock already. They’re sneaking in, hoping to get to her before she notices. She’s in big trouble. But her intruder is in much deeper shit.

He’s already made his fatal mistake. Doing it while I’m watching. It’s a mistake he won’t live to make again.

FOUR

Bella

I can't get him out of my head. The memory of his presence is an intoxicating drug, his aura a magnetic pull that makes my knees weak with desire.

My hands are between my legs, but in my mind, it's his hands that are there, strong and demanding, teasing my clit with expert precision.

I imagine his deep voice in my ear, whispering dirty words that make my body quiver with anticipation.

My breathing becomes shallow as I imagine him stripping out of that tailored suit, revealing the toned body that lies beneath. His piercing blue eyes are locked on mine, heavy with lust and desire.

With each passing moment, my need for him grows stronger. I imagine him inviting me into his shower, water cascading down our bodies as we explore each other's most intimate desires.

In my mind, he's here with me now, kneeling between my legs as I lay back on the bed. He watches me with hungry eyes, my body writhing beneath his gaze as I touch myself.

He leans in, capturing my nipple between his lips, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud. I let out a moan of pleasure, my body on fire with desire.

I imagine him stripping naked, his hard cock standing at attention as he watches me pleasure myself. He takes his length in his hand, stroking it slowly as he gives me commands, his deep voice sending shivers down my spine.

"Spread your legs wider for me. I want to see all of you," he growls, his voice husky with need. I obey, my body responding to his commands as if on autopilot.