Six Months Contract With The Mafia God

Simon Ward was cheating on her

Dimitri had never liked the man....too soft, too entitled, too fucking stupid to see what he had. But he’d kept his mouth shut because Eve had chosen him, had seemed happy, and Dimitri had no right to interfere.

Now, though?

Now, all bets were off.

”Come on.” He stood, holding out his hand. ”You’re drunk, and this isn’t the place for you.”

”Where are you taking me?” But she put her hand in his, her skin warm and soft against his palm.

”Somewhere private. Somewhere safe.”

He led her through the club, past the curious stares and whispered speculation. Let them talk. Let them wonder. He’d deal with the fallout tomorrow.

The private elevator at the back required his fingerprint and a code. He punched it in one-handed, unwilling to let go of Eve even for a second.

The doors slid open, revealing the mirrored interior, and he guided her inside.

”Where are we going?” she asked as the elevator began its smooth ascent.

”My private lounge. Top floor.”

”You have a private lounge in your own club?”

”I have a private everything, cara mia.” The endearment slipped out before he could stop it.

She blinked up at him, those big eyes hazy with alcohol and something else. Something that looked dangerously like want.

”What does that mean? Cara mia?”

”My dear.”

”Oh.” A pause. ”That’s... nice.”

’’Nice’’. Jesus Christ. There was nothing nice about the thoughts running through his head right now.

The elevator opened directly into his lounge....a space he’d designed for privacy, for deals that needed to happen away from prying eyes. Leather furniture. A full bar. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. And absolutely soundproof.

Eve stumbled as she stepped out, and he caught her, his hands on her waist, steadying her. She was so small against him, the top of her head barely reaching his shoulder even in those fuck-me heels she was wearing.

”Whoa,” she breathed. ”Nice view.”

”Sit.” He guided her to the couch, trying to ignore how right she felt in his arms. ”I’ll get you some water.”

”I don’t want water.” She collapsed onto the leather, immediately curling her legs under her. ”I want more whiskey.”

”You’ve had enough.”

”You’re not the boss of me, Dimitri Valentino.”

He almost smiled at that. Almost. ”In this club, piccola, I’m the boss of everyone.”

He poured her water anyway, brought it to her along with some bread from the small kitchen. She needed to soak up some of that alcohol before....

Before what?

Before he did something stupid?

Too late. Having her here, alone, was already the stupidest thing he’d done in years.