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“I'll make sure to save my voice,” I purred as he brushed the towel over my breasts.
I relished the feel of it over my sensitive nipples. He skated it over my stomach and bent his knee, indicating for me to brace my foot on it so he could dry my leg. He dragged it from my ankle to my thigh, skipping the apex before going back down. After repeating the motion with my other leg, he wiped between my legs, and I held my breath. He leaned forward and licked me. And then he groaned, and I swore I almost came from that. My legs shook, and before I knew it, he was holding my ass cheeks in his hands and burying his tongue into my pussy, licking and sucking until I was a writhing mess.
“Fuck, I want you. But I need time. And soundproofing. Dios mio, when I get that . . . I won’t stop.” He looked at me with such a pained expression, I knew he hadn’t come to tease me. It was if he couldn’t resist. I would never be able to towel off again without thinking of this. He made the most mundane task sexy.
“You're all dry.” He wrapped the towel around me, securing it on my chest. “Well, one part of you is still wet.”
I gasped. He was so dirty.I loved it.
“I'm disappointed there's no story,” I mock pouted.
“I'll do my best not to disappoint you again,” he promised. “I have to go,” he said, though his hold on me didn't loosen an inch. “You're making it very hard on me.”
I pushed my pelvis into him. “I can feel that.” Good Lord, I had turned into a salacious little minx, but what the heck? I wanted him. He wanted me. Why deny it?
“You will. Inside that pretty little pussy until you beg me to stop.”
“I thought you had to go. You keep talking like that, and I won't let you leave.”
“That's what I'm counting on.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Carlos
“You are now Marcos Alejandro Santiago.”
Donato Salvatore slid a manila envelope across the table toward me. It felt borderline wrong to be conducting this kind of business in Muriella’s apartment, but it was necessary. I’d learned all I could about the man since Daniel had made the introduction. He was as dangerous as me, maybe more so in some ways, but I had no choice but to rely on him.
“The photograph on your identification does not match what's in the national database for your own security. If and when you choose to travel using this passport, I'll need to know so we can rectify that. I'm guessing it's safe to assume, if you do any international travel, it won't be through the normal channels anyway, considering that, according to US customs logs, you aren't here now.” Donato scrutinized me from his position. His sharp intelligence probably intimidated most people, but not me. Thankful. That was what I felt toward the man who was sticking out his neck to help me.
He continued, “The rest of the world believing you're dead is the best course of action, for both you and your sister. We can get that ball rolling right away. Enough time has passed since the explosion that it's plausible to find some of your remains.”
“Eduardo is ready for that when I say the word.”
Donato gave a brisk nod. “Daniel has informed me you have direct access to Nicanor Rosca. How you obtained that, added to who your father was, makes me extremely nervous, and I am not a man who gets nervous.”
This wasn't a pissing contest. It was me doing whatever I had to do to get out from under the life that had shackled me for what felt like an eternity. “It should make you uncomfortable. I'm sure you've heard the rumors of what Rosca has done, and I assure you the reality is worse. As far as my father goes, we arenotthe same man. The weeks leading up to his death were the best I could do in retribution yet not near enough for him to pay for what he did to my sister.”
Donato assessed every word all while keeping an impassive expression. I had a reputation. My father had a reputation. And Donato Salvatore had a reputation too. One that he wasn’t to be toyed with.
“She is the priority.”
We were in complete agreement.
“My reputation is one I've worked very carefully to craft, an illusion created to achieve my end goal, which is to destroy everything my father worked for. To say I hated him is a vast understatement. There isn't a word to describe how I feel about what he did, not only to my sister but also to my mother, and all the other people whose lives he destroyed. Going after Rosca now is too great a risk. Whatever you want to know of him, I will tell you, but I need your word my sister will not suffer.” I wasn’t sure I was in a position to negotiate, especially given that Donato had helped me with no questions asked, but Muriella's safety was something I wouldn't compromise. I hoped I hadn't already. Maybe it was selfish and stupid of me to have come to the United States. Anyone could look at the two of us and know we were related.
“The way to make that happen is for you to lie low. Forget about cutting off the head of the snake. His reach is too far and too great. If he believes you’re dead, he’ll move on,” Donato said reasonably.
“It will take a lot to replace me. We're not talking about a shipping container of cocaine. I provided him with cargo ships full of the stuff. Pulling that off is all too easy and nearly impossible at the same time. My absence will hurt his business.”
“When we're in these types of businesses, we always have contingency plans. But I suppose you know that better than most,” Donato said.
“What do I need to do now?” I asked, and the words sounded odd. I hadn't answered to anyone in a very long time and always knew the best course of action. I didn't want to fuck anything up, and if that meant getting a second or third or fourth opinion, I would.
“Limit your contact with the man you left to clean up the mess. I'll put eyes on him for his protection. I assume you have no credit cards, cell phones, anything that could be traced?”
“Nothing. I've only used burner phones to contact Eduardo, and I've never had a credit card.” I sniffed bitterly. Cash and cocaine. Those were the only two commodities I'd ever dealt in. And blood. How could I forget that?
