Page 74 of Break Me
Had I thought that his father was Irish mafia before? I’d be lying to myself if I said no. Now I couldn’t believe I was standing in my own kitchen with a member of the Bratva.
“So this Greek mafia went to the trouble of torching your house and tracking you down while on a date then attempting to gun you down. For what?” I pushed.
“Call it a misunderstanding.” The deep rumble of his tone sent a series of shivers down my spine. He didn’t seem overly bothered by what had occurred.
I added the mushrooms, trying to imagine what life would be like if I always had a target on my back. “I’m curious. I’m going to guess you’re the type of man not to take two attempts on your life sitting down. Correct?”
The way his ice blue eyes sparkled in the LED lighting of the kitchen brought an ache deep inside my pussy. “You guessed correctly,sladkiy tsvetok.”
His use of Russian caught me off guard. “What did you just say?”
“I called you a sweet flower. Your perfume is like night-blooming jasmine.”
I was surprised he knew. “Yes. So answer the question. What did you do in retaliation?”
He took a thoughtful sip of wine, never blinking as he studied me. Why did I have the feeling he was trying to decide whether he could trust me? “My brothers, cousins, and I burned down his warehouse.”
I stopped moving altogether. “What was in the warehouse?”
“One half was devoted to the company’s food distribution center.”
Food distribution. “Wait a minute. Performance Food Group. Right?”
He lifted a single eyebrow. I could swear it was like I’d just passed a truth test. “Yes.”
“O’Leary’s uses them.” That couldn’t be a coincidence. “And the other part of the warehouse contained what?”
“Deadly cocaine and heroin.”
No way. Was it possible Liam was selling drugs from the pub?
Exhaling, I now had so many questions running through my mind I didn’t know where to begin. “So you and your family don’t…”
He headed for the bottle of wine, which was on the other side of me, purposely brushing his fingers along the small of my back. As he’d likely expected, I shuddered.
“No, Halle. We consider the sale of illegal drugs heinous activity.”
“And guns?”
“While I can’t deny we’ve sold a few crates in our lives, that’s not what our financial wealth is about.”
“So you’re legitimate.”
He poured his wine and was suddenly right beside me, so close I could easily concentrate on the thick cord on the side of his neck. And the way the ink scrolled along there. I hadn’t really paid attention to it before. I’d had a few other things on my mind.
“The resorts, restaurants, concert venues, and our stock portfolio are the reasons we are a wealthy family.”
“But… I can tell you’re holding something back.”
“Oh, you can, can you?” Nothing about the man should surprise me any longer, but when he quickly placed his glass on the counter, lifted and bent his knee and tossed me over his thick thigh, I was too floored to react quickly.
Thank God he didn’t yank down my pajama bottoms. But he did decide to swat my bottom several times.
I wanted to stop him. I really did, but there was something inside me that craved more. The possessive hold. The sense of being dominated. The building need. The wetness between my legs. Even the discomfort turning to pain because he wasn’t going easy on me, the swats hard and swift.
The sound was muted, my slight whimpers louder than the dull thudding sound.
It didn’t take long until I was writhing in his hold, not because of trying to escape, but so I could better grind my pussy against his leg. The moment was sinful, but I could tell by his labored breathing that he was enjoying himself and in as much need as I felt.
