Page 7 of Consumed By the Mafia

Abigail shoved the thought as far down as she could manage and stepped beneath the spray of the showerhead. For a stupid second, she found herself disappointed that the shower didn’t smell like him.Of course it doesn’t.He would have used the hotel provided products, just like she was going to have to, because none of this was pre-planned. And it was better that way. She couldn’t be going around smelling like the man she was supposed to be coercing into an interrogation room.

She tilted her head into the stream of water and choked on a strangled laugh. She closed her eyes, allowing her mind to wander back for a moment to the feel of Ryoma’s hands reaching around her body and massaging her skin. A small gasp escaped her as a wave of warm tingles rolled through her, as if it were more than an hours’ old memory. But that was precisely what it was, and she was determined to make sure it stayed that way. So she put it—and all the others—into a box in her mind and reached for what remained of the soap.

When she was as dry as she could get herself in the steamy room, she slipped back into the clothes she’d donned for her trip to the bar. If nothing else, she was at least grateful she hadn’t been wearing them long beforehand. It was a small mercy. She had no idea where her hairband had gone, so she patted her hair down one final time before leaving it to hang and finally stepping from the room.

She nearly shrieked at the sight of the man she’d been hoping to avoid sitting with his legs stretched out on the bed, waiting for her.

Ryoma lifted a familiar cup from the side table nearest him, a drink stopper plugging the lid. “I took a guess about what you’d want, but the coffee’s still hot if nothing else.”

Her heart beat faster. He hadn’t just come back, he’d brought her coffee.Fuck. Me.

three

New Plan

“Checkout’s not until one,”Ryoma said, watching his freshly showered seductress walk around the bed to perch stiffly on the opposite corner with her coffee clutched in her hand. It was clear she was not as comfortable with the morning after situation, whether that was because she’d sobered up or for any number of other reasons, he could only guess.Shame.Though probably that meant it had been wise of him not to join her in the shower when he’d returned and heard the water running.

The fact that he’d been tempted was about as jarring as the certainty he felt at knowing he wasn’t ready towalk away from this woman. A fact he supposed he’d keep to himself for a short while longer.

He watched her take a sip of the coffee and saw her shoulders relax a fraction.

“Thank you for the coffee,” Abby finally said. “How much do I owe you?”

He scoffed. “It’s just coffee, you don’t owe me anything.” He crossed his ankles and took a gulp of his own before adding, “You wanna chat for a bit? Get to know each other without the alcohol?” He wasn’t sure if he made the suggestion because he was genuinely interested or simply to get a reaction out of her. When Abby twisted in place to gape at him, he decided both were perfectly acceptable reasons.

“I—What? No.” She shook her head and stood, looking around as if she were confused before bending and lifting her boots from the floor. “I should get home. I have things I need to get done, and really, we both know last night was….”

Ryoma watched her move to the desk, set down her coffee, and pull the chair around in order to sit and tug on her boots. He waited, but she seemed to have decided not to finish her thought. “Last night was what?”

Abby didn’t meet his stare as she focused on her self-assigned task. It was hard, after all, wedging a foot into a boot that already had a gun inside and keeping that gun from making itself known. He didn’t care that she carried, but he wasn’t going to confess to having recognized the sensation of a gun pressed against his back when her legs had wrapped around him, either. She grunted under her breath and finally jammed her foot properly into the boot. “I’m not that kind of woman,”she said. “I won’t lie and say I didn’t have a good time. I did. But I shouldn’t have let it happen, regardless. I was raised better than that.”

Ryoma kept his expression calm as his grip tightened on his cup. “Doesn’t it make it worse if we go back to being strangers now?”

She froze for a beat, her left foot hovering in front of the opening for the next boot. A strange, undesirable detachment chilled her voice when she said, “Wearestrangers.” Her foot slid easily into the shoe, she wiggled the ankle as if to settle it, then rested it on the floor.

Ryoma frowned. “I may not know a whole lot about your daily life—”Yet.“But I’d bet my motorcycle I know you in ways at least most of the people you spend your time with never will.” He paused to toss back the rest of his coffee. “And for the record, I love my motorcycle.”

Abby tucked her legs beneath the chair, the skirt of her dress hanging over her knees and giving her an almost proper appearance as she twisted her own coffee in her hands. The blemishes he’d left on her skin were even more exposed after whatever scrubbing she’d done and now that she’d positioned herself almost directly in the sliver of daylight streaming in through the curtains. She looked like a naughty secretary out of a damn porno. It was distracting as fuck. Finally, she said, “I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just … don’t know how to do this.”

He blinked at her. “Do what?”

She blew out a breath, chugged her coffee, and set the cup back on the table. Her cheeks were flushed again when she methis gaze, though whether from embarrassment or too much hot liquid he wasn’t sure. “You’re only the third man I’ve ever been with, and the last guy I made wait for … months.” She rolled her eyes briefly at whatever thought followed. “My point is, I’m not good at quote-unquote-normal relationships, so if last night was anything more than just wild, drunken sex, I’m definitely not good at that.”

Well shit.Obviously, he’d figured out she was a few years younger than him, but he hadn’t thought she had such limited experience. Ryoma swallowed back an ill-timed groan and willed his blood to cool. “I don’t think you need to worry about that. Just let it happen and wait for it to play out.”

Abby made a face. “That seems illogical. And in any event, what am I letting happen? I don’t really understand what we’re talking about.”

Ryoma swung to his feet and strode up to her, moving purposefully but slowly enough to let her react. Her only reaction was to lean back in her chair, eyes widening as she craned her head in an effort to maintain eye-contact. He bent over her, bracing himself on the desk with his arms on either side of her shoulders and lowering his face to hover just above hers. “This. Whatever this is between you and me. This is what you’re letting happen, baby girl.”

She stared at him, her tongue running out to dart across her lips.

His phone cut through whatever she might have been working herself up to say.

Ryoma grunted a curse, pressed an apologetic kiss to her forehead, then twisted around to retrace his steps and grabthe offensive device up off the side table where he’d left it. Of course this was when Cris called him back. “Have I ever told you that sometimes you have the worst timing?”

There was a momentary pause on the line before Cristiano spoke. “Can’t say you have, actually. You good?”

The agitation that had sparked with the interruption of the call settled back to calm at the faint note of concern in his surrogate brother’s voice. “Yeah, I’m good.” He watched as Abby retrieved her clutch from the dresser where they’d dropped their things the night before. “Just otherwise occupied.”

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