Page 61 of Mercy in Betrayal

Enzo

Rowan has me in knots.

I can’t stop thinking about her on her knees, her lips wrapped around my cock. The unexpected surprise of stepping out of the shower and finding her trembling and waiting had sent an immediate rush of blood to my groin.

Any thought I had of loving on her in our bed had fled as she’d pushed her panties down and sank to the floor, then stared up at me with those big eyes. I was harder than a steel pipe in seconds, fully aware that she was new to what she was asking for but more than willing to teach her.

It was such a turn-on to be her first in so many ways.

Her only.

I swallow, remembering the feel of her mouth around me. Hot silk. I would never have thought someone with such little experience would know how to suck so well. She was naturally careful with her teeth, something most girls don’t consider, and slow with her characteristically deliberate nature.

Her mouth…her body…they’re utter perfection.

It’s more than that, though. I never thought I could get wrapped up in someone so quickly. Without even trying—without me even realizing it—Rowan O’Rourke had owned me from the moment I met her in the courtyard at Columbia. Her busy brain and its fixation on trivial little facts fascinated me from the jump, and her constant nervous chatter made me want to pull her to me and quiet her…calm her. Her childlike curiosity about everything new made me want to be the one to show her all the things. The thought of some other man doing so made my gut clench with jealousy.

She was mine.

I’ve been so wrapped up in establishing myself as my father’s heir I haven’t appreciated her the way I should. I know it bothers her that I leave at night with no explanation, that I give her so little time.

And yet she continues to try—continues to do everything I ask of her.

I need to reward her efforts. Show her I see her. Maybe it’s a prissy way of thinking, but that’s what brings me here, to this jewelry store that I had the manager shut down just for me.

I walk between the aisles of glass counters, studying their contents. I want something special for her. It would be ten times easier if I had just brought her with me to pick something out, but I want to surprise her.

Rowan has a sweet, vintage soul, so I want something in keeping with that. When I stop at a row of rings, I see the perfect one. It stands out from all the rest. The pink diamond sits in a pear-cut setting surrounded by diamonds in exquisite, delicate detail. The pink reminds me of the flush in Rowan’s cheeks when she’s angry or aroused.

“That one.” I point, and the manager smiles at making such a huge sale.

The manager wraps up the ring, and once I have the box secured in my pocket I leave and walk out to my car, parked in a nearby lot. I’m ready to pull away when my phone rings.

Kristo Ahmeti’s name flashes on my screen. I’m considering not taking the call, but curiosity gets the better of me, and I hit answer. He’s the leader of the Roje Albanian gang that works at the docks for me.

“Hello, Enzo.” His accent wraps around his words.

“Speaking.”

“I wanted to speak to you about a recent offer I received.”

I glance in the rearview mirror at all the passing cars, checking for anything out of the ordinary and making sure I’m not being followed. After my meeting with Ivan, I can’t help but be on high alert. I see nothing that triggers any alarms.

“What offer and by whom?”

He names a figure. “The O’Hanlons have offered to increase the percentage we get from the shipments. Before we answer, we wanted to see if you would match or increase their offer.”

Cassidy was like a fucking dog with a bone. After what happened with Rowan, he was getting bolder, making offers he shouldn’t.

“Give me one day, and I’ll get back to you.” I answer and hang up. I don’t wait for a reply, but flip open the glove compartment and withdraw my weapon, setting it beside me on the passenger seat.

I’ll see what Cassidy and Evie really want to say to me. It’s a good thing I had stalked Rowan earlier because I know exactly where to find them.

***

I drive to their Upper East Side apartment building and park in the reserved spots. A doorman is standing at the main entrance. I slide the gun into my waistband and get out of the car. The doorman watches my steps until I reach him.

“I’m here to see Cassidy O’Rourke and Evie O‘Hanlon.” As I speak, I take out my ID. The door man takes it, checks it over, and hands it back but doesn’t open the door.

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