I smile as I smooth a hand down the Tom Ford three-piece suit, which is pale gunmetal perfection custom created from a silk-wool blend. My scabbed knuckles catch my eye. My granda used to say, ‘You can put a boxer in a suit, but he’ll still square up to his reflection.’ He would know. My gaze flicks up to the smile on my face at his memory, and I run a hand over my jaw. Clean shaven for once. I turn away from the mirror, not allowing myself to think about why I’ve done it.
I’m happy Da’s alive to enjoy the first run out to sea. Things could’ve ended much differently at Sandro’s andLennon’s wedding. My muscles go rigid at the thought, and I have to remind myself he’s grand. That he’s settled on the top deck to catch the sunset, and make his way to the poker tables once we’re offshore.
I check my watch and note the doors will be opening any minute. I want to be there to greet the guests. They were all given a personal invitation to the soft launch. The who’s who of Tampa politicians, bankers, corporate executives, real estate investors. The network of people who run this city.
As I step into the elevator and hit the button for the main deck, Sam’s face floats up to the forefront of my mind. Her fierce as fuck eyes brimming with intelligence and challenge, that beautiful mouth, those soft curves. I shake my head.
No. Don’t even think about it, Donnelly. The lass is full of secrets and lies. Nothin’ you need to get tangled up in.
The elevator door opens, and my line of sight gives me a good view of the red carpet lined with velvet ropes, a metal detector and six armed guards scanning invitations on the guests’ phones. The guards are reassuring since so far, no one knows who the shooter was targeting. An unknown enemy is the most dangerous kind.
Mayor Suarez, looking sharp in a black tux, is one of the first guests walking toward me. He’s flanked by two men I don’t recognize.
I hold out my hand when they reach me. “Mayor. Glad you could make it.” I notice the Mrs. isn’t with him, though she was extended an invite. I don’t judge.
“Wouldn’t miss it.” He smiles, but it seems forced. “This is Charlie Abbott, my chief of staff and Jenson West, my press secretary.”
I shake their hands, then my eyes flick back to the mayor. He’s much more stand-offish than he was when Sandro introduced us. I turn to the press secretary, a man in his early forties with greasy hair and a cheap suit. “Jenson West, the man who controls the narrative. Good to know.”
He smiles nervously. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Donnelly.”
I make a mental note to have Caelian do background checks on these lads as I shake Charlie Abbott’s hand. I motion behind me. “The main stage and bar’s that way. The upper deck will be serving tapas and also has poker tables, slot machines and blackjack tables. Those will be open once we’re far enough offshore. There’s also a second bar and lounge with girls and live music. Enjoy, gentlemen.”
Mayor Suarez’s eyes don’t quite meet mine as he nods. “Should be a great sunset tonight.” He turns to the two men. “Let’s go get a drink, shall we?”
I watch them head to the bar, unease prickling in my gut. Something’s up.
I spend the next thirty minutes shaking hands and welcoming Tampa’s elite as they file onto The Lucky Sinner. Some of them have brought wives or girlfriends, some of them have come alone. Most of them have dressed to the nines and have an air of anticipation and excitement. Yeah, these men were bored with their local entertainment. That means Sully’s fight club should do well, also.
Rocco, Gunnar and Sandro’s cousins, Caelian and Fausy, walk through the doors. Caelian is also Sandro’s consigliere and Fausy is one of Rocco’s capos. My men recognize them and don’t even blink when the metal detector goes off.
I grin at the Italian crew, glad to have them on my side. “Welcome, boys.”
Rocco’s gray eyes are sparkling with mischief as he glances around. He whistles as his gaze snags on the girls working the stage. “Christ, Irish. You’ve really built a fucking floating fantasy here.”
“Aye. That was the thought.” I have my hands shoved in my suit slacks pockets as I eye the Zippo he’s flicking at his side. “Just don’t burn it down, yeah.”
One side of his mouth quirks up as he slides the lighter into his pocket and adjusts his black tie. “Don’t worry, the only heat I’m looking for tonight is on that stage.”
With that, they make their way into the main lounge and head to the bar. Two girls working the stage in only silver G-string bottoms offer them seductive smiles. Two more topless waitresses are serving drinks to the private booths. All the women I’ve hired are stunning in their own way. Part of my young fantasy had me envisioning sampling the dancers, enjoying the variety and the easy access. But now that the day is here, I have no interest in pursuing them.
I turn away. Craning my neck, I scan the line outside and spot Sam.
My heartbeat quickens as I take her in. She’s wearing a silk red dress that plunges down the front, showing off her cleavage and oodles of tanned skin, the bottom of the dress skimming her mid-thigh.
Feckin’ red.Blood. Passion. Danger.I can taste them all on my tongue.
The sea breeze is playing with the fabric, lifting it tantalizingly high before she smooths it back down with her palm. The breeze is also lifting those rich brown locks from her shoulders. Oversized dark sunglasses hide her eyes, so I can’t tell where her attention is.
My blood is humming, my muscles tense as I walk over and instruct Murphy to bring her in. She shouldn’t be standing out there in line like a client. Then I go to the bar and have Scarlett make me a whiskey. I’m gonna need it with that feckin’ dress.
A few moments tick by, anticipation tightening my chest before her subtle flower scent announces her presence. I turn around, drink in hand and stop breathing.
Fuck, she’s stunning.
Her head is tilted, soft hair falling over her shoulder, cognac-colored eyes studying my face. “You shaved,” she whispers, like she’s talking to herself.
She’s applied eyeliner and a heavy coat of mascara and feck if it doesn’t make her look feral, sexy and dangerous. Like I’m staring into the gold eyes of a lioness. I grip the glass harder to keep from reaching out and grabbing her by the back of the neck to see if she would fight me or submit. The thought swells my cock, and I adjust my stance.
