Page 5 of Shameless in Vegas

No.

And yet, here he is, fastening the clasp at the top of the aforementioned zipper. Indignation at the idea of being perceived ashelplesscrackles in my veins. But then Joaquin smooths the fabric down my back and over my hips before rubbing his hands over my shoulders in a gentle, affectionate manner, and I remind myself that all the men before him have done far worse, and that I need to get over it.

Nevertheless, the tender, considerate gesture is completely foreign and one-hundred-percent bizarre, but I maintain my facade and offer him a doe-eyed look with a slow smile in the mirror. “Gracias.”

“No sweat,” he murmurs in reflex, pinning me with a gaze that practically screams that the gears in his head continue to turn as he digests the situation he found himself in only an hour ago. The situation I was ordered to create by his cousin and the cartel that is after vengeance and his blood.

After a beat, Joaquin offers an equally reflexive, “You’re really beautiful, Natalia. I hope I’ve told you that already.” He towers over me, a tall, well-sculpted column of stone muscles—muscles that could so easily inflict a lot of damage if he chose to. But I’ve been fed so much intel on him prior to this arrangement that I know he won’t, and he simply lowers his face to kiss my temple. “We’ll figure all this out. I’m sure you’re starving, so I’m going to get you fed, and then we’ll see what we need to do.”

We’ll figure all this out,he says.

I’m sure you’re starving,he says.

I’m going to feed you, he says

The situation itself is not new. This behavior is new, and combined with the knowledge that he’s not the type to hurt a woman, I can already tell my job is going to be difficult for the first time ever.

Because for the first time ever, I have to murder a man who’snota greasy, disgusting, violent, rival drug lord.

This man is the polar opposite.

This manis not onlymuy guapo,he isnice. He’s gotmanners. He’sconsiderate.Even while drunk andthendrugged last night, Joaquin’s simple, gentleman-likekindnessnever faltered once. In fact, unlike every other target I’ve been assigned, he only got sweeter and more docile with the more blitzed he became. Every other target before him would make a Hulk-like transformation under the influence of drugs and alcohol. I’ve had the bruises, and black eyes, and broken bones to prove it.

But rather than smacking me around while intoxicated, Joaquin held me close to his side while we staggered from casino to casino and eventually to the little white chapel, all the while repeatedly reassuring me that he was going to protect me from all the sinister darkness lurking in the wings of my life.

Completelyfictionalsinister darkness, that is—as far as Joaquin knows.

The only actual sinister darkness in my life is me, the cartel that owns me, and my job as an assassin.

I amLa Viuda Negra.

The Black Widow of Los Dolorosos.

And my job is to kill men when they least expect it.

And poor, sweet, chivalrous,obliviousJoaquin, my latest and soon-to-be late husband, doesn’t suspect a damn thing.

I turn away from our reflection, blinking up at him below my lashes, and stroke my hands up his chest, coyly and seductive like I’ve been trained since childhood to do.

“I amveryhungry,cariño,” I murmur, lifting my chin to graze my lips over his and causing him to still for a moment before he slides his hands around the small of my back, pulling me against him. “And what I’d really like to figure out is how to spend the whole day in that big bed with you.”

I punctuate the plea by lightly biting his bottom lip and tugging on it just enough to entice him with more. The logic I can see him trying to maintain gives way to heated lust, and he crashes his mouth over mine, pushing my back against the cold glass of the mirror. His erection is hot and hard, straining against his slacks and pressing into my hip, and that’s theotherthing that’s new about this situation.

Attraction.

Chemistry.

It must be a combination of him being hot asfuckand alsokind—a combination I’ve never experienced, and one that could be wildly problematic if I don’t focus.

And right now, the focus is convincing Joaquin to stay in this marriage and then take me back to his home in New York where I can accomplish the tasks I have been ordered to carry out. That means I have to leave him wanting more.

“Should we tell your sisters that we can’t make it to brunch?” I ask with our lips still intertwined.

The key to having a man at your complete and total mercy is making them believe they are in control of a situation. You do this by tempting the head theyactuallythink with, and then reminding theirotherhead of their obligations. So then they go through the motions of what they believe they should be doing, all the while flying blind with the necessity to placate their dick as soon as possible.

This works particularly well with a decent guy like Joaquin, and he drops his mouth to my neck, mumbling a low groan against my skin.

“No,” he says reluctantly, “but I think we should definitely come back up to the room afterward to… y’know…” He nips my skin. “Figure all this out.”

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