CHAPTER 27
I Am Yours
Gabriela
Before the renovations and grand opening of Club Azul, this old establishment was once dilapidated, far from boasting its current swanky interior, and used primarily for mob business amongst Vance Remington’s close circle. When I was a little girl, Papà would often bring me along if Mamma or Nonna couldn’t watch over me. If Josh was here as well, we’d play with my dolls or his toy cars in the hallways while meetings were being conducted in the main offices. Sometimes we’d even play hide-and-seek. We often giggled like naughty children when the bodyguards tasked with watching over us went absolutely insane if they couldn’t find us for long stretches. All to say, I grew up here and knew this building’s structure like the back of my hand, including most of the guards present tonight.
Taciturn types, they observed us mildly as we mounted up the stairwell leading to the second floor. It was off-limits for patrons, but not for us. Some of them sent me nods of acknowledgements. Others sized up Hunter. These mob men had long memories and short tempers. They were always on the lookout for threats.
I had to give it to Hunter; he didn’t cower under their hostility. Cool, collected, and composed, he even chin-nodded in salute to those who cast him menacing glances.
“Don’t mind them,” I said once we reached the landing of the second floor. It was dimly illuminated with the same blue-light fountain walls from downstairs. The music still echoed above, but it was more of a faint thump. “They didn’t frisk you, which means they’re trusting Josh’s and my judgement and trying not to be overly rude.”
None of the guards wanted to upset us because that would inevitably piss off Papà and Vance.
“Well, even if they did, I’ve got no weapons on me, so we’re in the clear.” A sly gleam entered his eyes. “Though it just occurred to me, now that I’m dating a mob princess, I should probably learn how to wield a gun.”
“I heard nothing beyond you calling me a princess.” I curled my arms around his neck and kissed his lips. “Say it again.”
“Nah. I’ll say it again when you’ve earned it.” He slapped my ass and kneaded the flesh with greedy hands. I gasped. “Preferably on your back with your tight little pussy full of me.”
My thong dampened. It never stood a chance around this dirty-talking man. “You’re no fun.”
“Oh, baby.” He nipped my bottom lip and soothed the sting with a lick. “I have the rest of the night to show you just how fun I can be.”
“I’m counting on it.” I winked at him and dragged him down the hallway. There was a spare room at the end that I recalled rarely being occupied. I hoped Josh and Cade hadn’t gotten rid of it during the renovations.
On our way there, we passed the door for the main office where the Remingtons discussed their dealings and, quite audibly, heard Josh’s gruff voice on the other side, pleading, “Come home. Just come home to me.”
I ached, feeling for both of my friends. Hunter pretended not to hear it too. It wasn’t our place to say anything. Josh and Laylaneeded to wade through their emotions together without any external intervention.
Thankfully, the door of the spare room was unlocked—otherwise, I’d have used my bobby pin—and gave way with a single twist of my wrist. Inside, everything was as I last remembered it. An old leather couch, a coffee table housing an ancient ashtray, and a wooden desk and chair chucked in front of the large window with dark curtains.
Hunter followed after me and closed the door, then engaged the lock with a prominent click. I moseyed over to the window and pushed open the curtains even further, allowing moonlight to bathe every available expanse of the room in a beautiful silvery hue.
When I looked over my shoulder, Hunter watched me with hunger. Even his blue eyes appeared sterling from here. His barrel chest bowed with a deep inhale and exhale, his attention on me with riveting intensity. “Have a drink with me?”
My feet carried me back towards Hunter before he finished his request. If he was in my orbit, my natural instinct was always to go towards him. “Yes.”
He popped open the champagne and curved an arm around my back, tugging me deeper into his warmth.
Wordlessly, he tilted the bottle at an angle for me to receive the first sip and I let the bubbly flow through my parted lips, its taste—sweet, crisp, and citrus—dancing on my palate.
A stray drop trickled down my chin and neck.
Before I could wipe it, Hunter leaned down and licked it with the flat of his tongue.
A tremor wracked through my body at the impish act. He traced the trail back to my lips and kissed me passionately with a satisfying hum. It was so hot. My mind spun, my blood heated, and by the time he pulled away and rasped a “Delicious,” against my wet mouth, I was weak in the knees.
“Me or the champagne?” I asked coquettishly, my finger tugging his bottom lip, silently letting him know I wanted more of his kiss. More of his debauchery. More of him.
He smiled rakishly, his black brow arching. “What do you think, Gabriela?”
Me.
Always me.
I was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted.
