Inside the suite, he points to the couch. “Sit.”
My eyebrows shoot up of their own accord. He did not just tell me to sit.
I remain standing as he paces back and forth waiting for someone to pick up his call. When they do, he barks out a set of instructions.
“I need a wipe... Winter Pines Lodge. Front entrance…” He glances at his wristwatch. “Between zero-four-hundred and zero-four-thirty.”
There’s a long pause then he thanks the person at the other end and drops his phone onto the console.
When he looks back at me, his expression is different. His whole demeanor is different.
He’s half-naked, ripped, cut to perfection, but he’s braced to kill. His muscles are filled out, legs solid on the carpet, hands curling and flexing at his sides. The movement draws my attention to the purpling bruises on his knuckles, and on the length of his fingers, another man’s blood.
Do you know what that kind of adrenaline does to a man’s dick?
My gaze falls to the bulge in his sweatpants, but I override the warmth thatfloodsthrough me and lock my eyes on his.
I don’t wait for him to begin. I’ve seen enough. I want the truth.
“Who exactly are you, August King?”
Erin
He watches me carefully, his chest expanding and releasing in a low measured rhythm.
“My real name is Augusto Zanotti—Augie to my friends.”
Something rope-like tightens around my heart. “You lied to me?”
“Yes. I’m sorry.” There’s a note of authenticity in his tone.
“So, you’re Italian.”
“Yes.”
“That man knew you were Italian. He said the Italians weren’t invited here. What did he mean?”
“He’s right, the Italians weren’t invited, because this deal is backed by our enemies. The Russians. Or more specifically, the Russian mafia.”
I almost choke on thin air. “Did you say ‘mafia’?”
“Yes.”
“Are you…in the mafia?”
I hold my breath.
“Yes, Erin. I’m underboss to Cristiano Di Santo.”
A hand covers my mouth. I’ve heard that name before. He’s the not-so-secret mafia boss of New York.
My stomach has turned to liquid. What the hell have I gotten myself into? These people have guns. Theykill. It’s themafia. And I’m now involved.
“So, why exactly are you here?” My voice shivers. “What is the deal?”
He folds his arms, drawing my gaze briefly before it snaps back to his face.
“The Russians are trying to orchestrate an unprecedented arms deal that will, if they pull it off, destabilize the Middle East.”
