Holding my breath, I look inside.
There’s a round poker table in the center with a large lamp hanging down from the ceiling. Eight people are seated around it in varying states of tension.
A heat on my collarbone makes me glance up. Fiero is pacing slowly around the table, thumbing his rough stubble and dragging his gaze over me like he’s deciding which part to consume first.
The players don’t look up. Their focus is singularly on the cards in their hands and the people seated around them.
I recognize Cassio Bellucci, also standing, but he too is undistracted by my entrance.
Fiero lifts a hand and beckons me to him. After his texted threat to fuck me in a public place earlier, I’m nervous about what he might do. Though I doubt he’s going to bend me over in this room, when there seems to be a lot of something at stake here.
I arrive at his shoulder and he leans into my ear.
“Fetch some water for the table please and a case of cigars,” he whispers low. “José has them behind the bar.”
I pull back, nod, and walk quietly from the room, returning a few minutes later with fresh water and a sizable wooden box.
Fiero beckons me over once more and brushes his lips over the shell of my ear.
“Now, go back upstairs, but take the trade exit. Meet me outside in ten minutes.”
My flesh crackles with electricity.
Again, I nod and walk out of the room.
I feel Cassio’s gaze lift as I leave—curious and detached but with an unmissable edge of tension. I put it down to the seriousness of the game playing out in the room. Hardly anyone seemed to be breathing, it was so strained.
The night air is cool against my sizzling skin and I stand for a moment soaking it in. My hands are shaking with trepidation. I want to see Fiero, I do, but I’m afraid of what he’s going to ask of me.
I’m still extremely inexperienced and out of my depth. I mean, I’m simply an ER nurse who only just lost her virginity; he’s an actualmafia bosswho probably has a virtual Rolodex full of fuck buddies.
Nerves worm through my limbs until I feel light-headed.
Then I sense him behind me. Hot muscle, ravenous eyes, grinding jaw. I should be terrified, but instead I’m restless.
I dare not look around so I remain still, pinning my gaze on the gray, derelict building opposite.
The heat on my back intensifies until I feel his chest pressed up against it, his breaths drifting over my neck.
“Why the fuck can’t I put you down, Pfeiffer?” he breathes, hotly.
I don’t know how to answer that, but there’s barely time for a breath before he continues.
“You know how hard you make me just wandering the fuck around? If I have to look at those thighs for longer than a minute, I need to either fuck you or kill someone.”
Oh God. Why does that make my panties dampen so hard?
I tip my head slightly, needing his scorching breath on my neck. “Please don’t kill anyone. Not on my account.”
His fingers pinch at the fabric of my dress and pull it up and over my hips, soothing my heated thighs with the cool breeze.
“Can I touch you through material?” he asks. I notice his voice is strained, like he’s desperate for me to answer in the affirmative.
I turn my head slightly toward his and nod once.
“Thankfuck,” he grunts.
When he lightly touches me through my panties, my eyelids drift shut.
