She recoils, her eyes blown open wide for a flash of a second before her nostrils flare.
“Really?” she asks in amocking tone. Then she pulls up the hem of my T-shirt she’s wearing and slides it over her head. It slips from her fingers and pools around her feet.
My pulse takes off like a goddamn thoroughbred chasing the Triple Crown at the sight of her standing there in only a pair of lacy panties so tiny, they barely cover her pussy. My mouth waters, my fingers itching to touch, to probe, to plunder.
Then she storms past me, swinging her ass as she walks. “Fuck you, Kingston. This is as close to naked as you’re going to get from me.”
The door to her music room slams shut. I let out a breath and scrub my hands down the front of my face. I head into my bathroom and turn on the shower spray. Steam curls over the sides of the glass enclosure as my mind works out the details of that USB drive and the fact that I still need to carry out an assassination of some unknown power player on behalf of the Red Tribunal.
I’d much rather bury my head between Livvie’s thighs and listen to her moans instead of dealing with the shitstorm I’m about to step into, but that’s not the choice I was given. It’s also not the life I chose for myself.
A frustrated hiss slips through my lips as I step into the shower and let the hot spray rush over me as the inner battle in my mind wages.
Every day, my feelings for Livvie ebb and flow. Despite the most unlikely circumstances, she’s managed to burrow herself deep under my skin, which is a damn dangerous place for her to be. Arguably more dangerous for me than her.
She has the power to distract, and in my line of work,that’s unacceptable. Yeah, she has a hot pussy, but so does half the female population.
But regardless of how my body reacts to her, I can’t trust the woman. That would make me weak. Vulnerable. Exposed.
In the meantime, I need to figure out what information Roman has on my family and what more is coming. If Bronx has his dick in a twist over what he saw, I know it’s bad. He doesn’t normally flip his shit over this kind of thing, which makes me very fucking nervous.
Livvie is still locked in the conservatory when I leave the penthouse. I give specific orders to the guards positioned outside the door and the ones in the lobby and around the perimeter.
Nobody gets inside. And if they try to breach the doors, shoot them. No excuses.
This time, I don’t use the exit from the private garage. Instead, I grab the keys to one of the blacked-out Escalades parked on the street from Manny, one of the security guards stationed at the front entrance to the building.
“Remember what I said, Manny,” I say in a low voice. “Nobody gets inside. No matter what.”
“Yes, Mr. Viacava.”
Manny has worked with me for years and while I trust him as much as I need to, money talks and everyone can be bought. I learned that at a very young age. There were plenty of guards who turned on Dad for a quick buck.
Needless to say, they never got to spend any of it before a machete tore through their chest.
That’s the brutal truth and how the Viacavas keep people in line. Once rumors of themachete execution circulated, the number of defectors dropped like a pair of cement shoes hitting the bottom of the Hudson River.
I walk fast toward the first Escalade when another nondescript car rolls up to the curb next to me. My hand reaches into the waistband of my pants, fingers gripping the gun when the car’s passenger side window slides down a few inches.
I stop short when I see Arturo’s face. He nods at me and holds up an envelope.
But I don’t walk over. I just stare at him, keeping my distance because I know exactly how this could go. Arturo might be an associate of my father but he’s got no loyalty to me as a nonmember of the Tribunal.
What if they decided it’d be better to ice me instead of initiate me?
Arturo lets out a low whistle through his teeth and waves the envelope. “Kingston, I don’t have all day.”
Keeping my hand on the gun, I stalk toward the truck.
He rolls his eyes at me. “If I was going to kill you, you’d be full of holes before you could squeeze off a single shot.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That’s not giving me much credit, especially coming from a messenger.”
His lips crook upward. “Messenger. That’s cute.”
“What do you want?” I ask, not letting go of my gun.
“The senior leaders of the Tribunal wanted you to have this. They said you’d know what it meant.”
