Page 2 of Ride With Me

Sighing, I start the trek home, hoping it doesn’t?—

Almost as soon as the thought enters my mind, the skies open up and heavy rain droplets pelt down on me. Fuck, I don’t have money for a cab or an Uber. I’m tempted to stay where I am and call my parents for a quick cash transfer, but I don’t want to hear a lecture.

It’s Vegas. There are plenty of people that could give me a lift. I live outside of town, but at least one person should be headed in that direction.

Blowing out a long breath, I walk to the main road and turn off the strip. When I’m on the long stretch of road that leads me out of Las Vegas to the small town nearby, I stick my thumb out to hitch for a ride, hoping someone that isn’t a fucking serial killer gives me a lift home.

CHAPTER 2

ROCCO

Well fuck.I haven’t seen anyone dance like that in … ever. And it wasn’t even a lap dance. Not really. He barely touched me, and I felt like I was going to come out of my skin with want.

There was something about the lean man with the brown hair and wide brown eyes that drew me in, something that made me want to take him across my knee so I could watch his ass turn cherry red when I spanked him. That mischievous glint in his eyes when he saw how hard I was for him told me he was a bratty boy that needed to be reminded who was in charge.

Even though he’d left my club almost ten minutes ago, my erection still hasn’t subsided. Fuck, who is that boy and why does he have me feeling … things I shouldn’t about a possible employee?

He’s a distraction, a big reason why I shouldn’t hire him. I can’t run a successful nightclub—where I launder money for the Bianchi family—if I can’t keep my eyes off the dancer in one of my cages.

If my brother Elio were around, he would have taken over the hiring process. I’m hands off with everything legal, not wanting my bloody hands to touch the cleanness of our clubs and other legal business ventures. But he’d asked me to step inwhile he was out of town on some family business. The kind that required a few kneecaps to be broken and some holes to be dug in the desert. Thinking it was something quick—someone less seductive and alluring dancing instead of the specimen that circled his hips and abs in my face—I agreed.

Growling, I pull my keys from my pocket and lock up the club, motioning for my guards to drive ahead before I leave. We don’t open for another two days, which gives us plenty of time to find a dancer. While the guy who gave me a hard on, Sage, was the best I’d seen, I don’t know if it’s a good idea to hire someone like him. Too much temptation and while I pride myself on being able to keep my dick under control, I’m not sure how long that will last with him around.

The rain is coming down in sheets now, practically rolling in sideways with the high winds. Even though I jog to my car, I’m almost soaked through when I slide into the driver’s seat. Fuck me for parking so far away so no one dings my shit.

Irritated that I’m fucking soaked, I jam the key into the ignition and start the car up. I immediately crank up the heat to try to dry myself off, then turn it off just as fast. Even with the rain, it’s sweltering outside and having the heat on makes the interior of the car feel stifling.

Gritting my teeth in frustration, I pull out of the parking lot and start my drive home. Since it’s raining so hard, I turn on my hazard lights and drive at around twenty-five miles per hour. My windshield wipers are doing fuck all, so if I want to make it back home in one piece, I have to slow the fuck down and keep my eyes on the road.

Unlike Elio, I bought a house in the suburbs outside of Las Vegas instead of staying within the city limits. It’s quiet and I can get away from the hustle and bustle of the strip. It’s a longer drive to get to work in case of an emergency but?—

For a split second, I think my eyes are deceiving me. It appears that someone is walking in the rain, holding out their thumb for a ride.

“Stupid shit,” I mutter to myself as I drive past. I look in the rearview mirror and I catch a glimpse of the face and outfit and slam on my brakes. “The fuck?”

I put the car in reverse and stop next to Sage, who’s soaked through completely. I roll the window down and wait for him to duck his head to look at me. His eyes widen when he sees it’s me. Glaring, I motion for him to get inside and out of the elements. What was he thinking, walking in this storm?

He quickly pulls my door open and slides inside, pushing his wet hair out of his eyes. “Mr. Bianchi. Hi.”

“The fuck are you doing in the rain?” I ask instead of greeting him.

He smiles that mischievous smile at me. “Waiting for you to give me a ride home.”

I grunt and put the car back in drive. “Where do you live?” Before he can answer, I say, “And it’s really fucking reckless to hitchhike in this day and age. I could have been anyone.”

“You could have been,” he says, his tone full of nonchalance, “but you’re not. You’re my knight in shining Audi.” I roll my eyes as he rattles off his address. I know this city like the back of my hand, so I don’t need to input his place in my GPS.

“Thanks for this,” Sage says, his teeth clattering from the cold of his clothes. It may still be warm outside while it was raining, but he’s drenched. His clothes were bound to cool down as they dry. “My car broke down yesterday. I’m looking for a job now so I can afford to get it fixed.” I can hear the teasing in his voice, and I like it more than I should.

I glance over at him. “You need to warm up.” Even though it’ll turn my car into a furnace, I turn the heat on.

Sage holds his hands to the vents gratefully. “Thanks.” I glance at him from the corner of my eye just in time to see that wicked gleam I’m becoming addicted to. “You’re sort of sweet for a big, bad mafia guy.”

If my name weren’t so well known, I’d want to know where he heard that from. But everyone knows about the Bianchi family, and everyone knows after my father died, I took over. It’s the worst kept secret in Vegas.

I grunt again, moving his hands closer to the vent. “I ain’t sweet. Just don’t want to have to explain to the cops why there’s a dead dancer in my front seat.”

“Couldn’t you just throw me out in the desert? Who would know?”

---