Page 26 of The Mafia Enforcer's Temptation
Is that normal?
I’ve never had sex like that. Never had sex with a pierced man before.
And fuck, it was incredible, better than anything I’ve ever felt in my life.
A soft laugh escapes my lips as his cock starts to swell. I pull my hand away.
If I’m honest, I’ve only had sex a handful times. I like to pretend I’m experienced, that I’ve fucked like a man in and out of trouble.
But I have used my body. I’ve led men on a little, flirted and teased to slide out of situations I don’t want to be in.
And—what am I doing? Reminiscing about my prowess like an idiot?
This man’s light-fingered. He took my phone from my bag, which might not be impressive, but taking the jewelry, or most of it, from my dress pocket at Romanov’s definitely was.
I still.
Did he take the crest?
I pat him down, running my fingers over his pockets, but the only jewelry on him is the stuff he lifted when kissing me after killing Chad.
“Fucker,” I whisper again, taking it back and pocketing it. The stuff’s a mix of my mother’s and Elena’s. Things no doubt being held for Tatiana.
Which makes me feel about two inches tall.
There’s a phone, but it’s clearly a burner, as there are no numbers stored on it, no texts, nothing.
He doesn’t have ID, so I can’t get his name… well, his first name anyway. No address, either. And I’m about to stop searching when my fingers graze something in his jacket pocket.
It’s a card. A business card.
East Seventy-First Street
Second Floor
Appointment Only
There’s a number, too. I pocket the card.
Then I get up and start walking, looking over my shoulder, just waiting for Murphy to follow me. He doesn’t, but as I step out onto the road, a car comes to a stop in front of me, making me recoil.
It’s sleek, expensive, and black. My heart sinks as a door opens.
“Get in, Ava.”
“Why are you here? How?—?”
“Get the fuck in.”
Willing myself not to shake, I reluctantly slide into the cigar-rich air of Iosif’s car. He pours a vodka and hands the chilled glass to me before picking his up from the mini bar.
The car takes off and the windows are tinted so dark, I’m not exactly sure where he’s taking me.
To my death?
My demise by marriage to his son, Leonid?
I take a sip of the vile vodka, and yeah, I know it’s meant to be in my blood, but maybe I’m too Italian to appreciate it, or maybe I just don’t like the way it tastes. Whatever it is, I hide my shudder.
