Page 18 of King of Sinners

I lift my fingers between us and start ticking off a list.

“The likelihood of my death. The living arrangement until we know. My duties in your house.”

“Duties,” his voice takes on this dark, rich quality that actually makes me wet even though I hadn’t actually meant that.

“I’m not very good at just sitting,” I say, trying desperately not to blush.

“Anything else?”

“Yes. My visual arts course,” I say on a rush of air. Can he smell that I’m aroused? I swear he can.

“Charlotte. That hardly seems important.” And then our hips make contact, his erection pressing into the softness of my belly again. Is it supposed to feel this good?

“Now see, that’s why it needs to be on the agenda. Because for me, it might be the most important one of all.”

He shakes his head. “I’ll see you tonight.”

A limo materializes and then Mason is gone, sliding into the next sleek car that surely smells of new leather and feels like riding on clouds.

“This way,” Jackson gives me a smile that crinkles his eyes in the nicest way. He hands me a phone. “My number is in here if you need anything.”

“Thank you, Jackson.”

And then, like magic, the elevator opens. I step inside, taking my bag from Jackson and pushing the only button available. P. I didn’t even notice last night that this elevator is exclusive to Mason’s apartment.

I try to calm my racing nerves. I’ve got a long day of waiting ahead of me. At least I’ll have time to work on my project. That is if I can stop my swirling thoughts about Mason long enough to concentrate.

The man is an enigma that I desperately wish to learn. Not only does attraction sizzle between us but he holds my life in his large hands.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Mason

The short drive from my apartment to Kincaid Enterprises isn’t nearly long enough.

The call I took in the car while Charlotte sat next to me…Roman.

It didn’t take many inquiries to learn that Roman was recognized last night when he picked up Charlotte. The killers, who’ve been doing their homework on their Las Vegas competition, made contact this morning.

There’s a new set of players in town who’ve been buying up real estate. Some fucking British upstarts who claim to be the direct relations of some titled wanker. They call themselves, the Dukes.

I don’t give a shit what they call themselves. I’m the king and they will bow.

Distantly, I know what’s got me in a twist. Fucking Charlotte. That skirt looked beyond gorgeous exposing the exact right amount of her lean legs, hugging the curve of her hips and ass. And her place…

We’d driven up and I’d wanted to hate it. It was a run-down shithole. I knew where she lived already, but I’d never been there. Then we’d stepped inside.

Every inch had been made beautiful from her touch. From the painted bathroom door to the pictures on the wall, to the exacting nature by which she kept the place clean and tidy.

I’d stood there and wondered what it might be like to be a different man. I never wondered that shit.

But what if…

What if my father hadn’t collected up a mountain of debts and then gotten himself killed by the Italians? What if I hadn’t had to bail out his debts to protect my brothers? What if I hadn’t had to use my law degree to become the real estate tycoon of Las Vegas with shady crime ties?

I could have been a regular guy with a woman like Charlotte. We’d get some shitty apartment, nicer than that one because I’m a damned hard worker. But Charlotte would take any place and make it beautiful. Turn it into a home.

Because she loved me. Wanted to take care of me in the way a woman took care of man. That had never occurred to me before. That a woman could make your life…beautiful.

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