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I’ll explain later. Not now, please.
I just need some private time, and I sigh with relief when the calm washes over me. The driver pulls up beside the luxury hotel. I slide my card and add a fifty percent tip for payment.
Once checked in, the elevator takes me to the penthouse; a luxury of being a successful ballerina on tour is that money is never an issue. I throw my purse on the bed and pick up the room service menu.
I haven’t slept well any of the times I tried to nap during the flight because I’m too wound up and have too much on my mind. The shrimp Serena gave me was the last I’ve had to eat.
I order decaffeinated coffee, tomato juice, bottled sparkling water for later, and an omelet with Egg Beaters, mushrooms, peppers, onion, pepperoncini, and a dusting of feta cheese. It may be late night in Italy but I feel like breakfast food. I strip out of my clothes and into the hotel robe as I wait for room service. The knock on the door less than twenty minutes later is unexpected, and I belt my robe tighter as I stretch to look out the peephole window.
There is a man in uniform with a cart in front of him, and I open the door hesitantly. “That was so fast,” I say, and the man just nods and smiles at me. He pushes the cart into the room and places my breakfast on the table and hands me a slip to sign. I add a generous tip and know it is good when his face lights up in a smile before wishing me a good day in perfect English.
I lift the silver dome from my plate, and the scent of fresh peppers and onions waft through the air. The food is absolutely delicious, and the tomato juice is ice cold, just the way I like it.
The coffee smells delicious, bold and full of hazelnut scent, and tastes as good and creamy as it looks. It doesn’t have the usual caffeinated kick I like, but I plan to snuggle into the king-sized bed and try to get some much-needed sleep before I deal with booking flights and maybe a little sightseeing tomorrow.
Looking at what remains on my plate, my mind drifts back to just how erotic it was to be fed while sitting in my lover’s lap. I don’t know if I will ever get the memory of that out of my mind.
I finish my meal and take two of the sleeping pills that I have with me, pull the drapes closed, and slip beneath the silky sheets. I snuggle into my pillow and am finally almost drifting when I hear the sound of an incoming message. I am sure it’s Marenah, and I don’t want her to worry, so I reach for my phone, already hazy from the effects of the pills. I read the message with blurry eyes as the pounding on my door starts, and my eyes widen. Holy fuck!
Chicago mob has tracked you. Open this fucking door, right the fuck now!
29
JAY
I’m still watchingmy angel. What the hell is she up to? Who the hell is she meeting and who the fuck does she love? I need that fucking report, and I need it right the fuck now. I finally know exactly why Brian Carrington acts like a fucking hot head over Jenny Torzial, because if I don’t get some answers soon, I am going to come off the fucking rails. I text Cole and Nick to get intel double time knowing that Dereck is probably fast asleep by now.
We’re on it.
I sit behind the monitor and watch my angel dance in her white lacy panties and bra, stretching gracefully through her moves, and I think my heart is pounding harder than my dick. She spins, pivots and stretches and I imagine scooping her into my arms and letting her show me just how flexible she is in my bed.
She is slowing, spinning in slow motion, lifting her leg to guide her beautiful body around and around until she spirals slowly and gracefully, finishing with her hands outstretched on the floor. I don’t think that I have ever seen something so beautiful and I know it’s wrong, but I hit the range record and send the zip file of her dance to my phone.
If I have nothing left after tonight, at least I will have this. Sasha stands up, and as soon as my angel twists her arms to her back I know what she’s going to do, but I can’t avert my eyes from that screen as she removes her bra and her perfect breasts and pink nipples are exposed to me. Fuck she is just too gorgeous, and then she walks out of the camera’s view. I shift to the other monitor and watch her walk into the bathroom and close the door.
There is no way that anyone going through security tapes is going to watch that and I rewind, intending to delete these scenes but go too far. She is crying in bed, sobbing uncontrollably, and I make myself watch the hurt that I have caused the woman that has had enough pain to last a lifetime. The lump in my throat grows, but I could not in all good conscience take her special gift even though I was desperate to claim her.
I hit the delete button erasing all the footage of my beautiful angel and look down at an incoming message from Matt.
Sasha called her sister to pick her up at the airport. We’ll get her safely to a hotel.
She’s not going to a hotel. She’s not fucking safe.
Get it sorted and let me know.
I smile, it was her sister she was talking to. Matt’s the best friend I have, and he doesn’t take my shit. What the hell is she thinking? I decide that we’ll just act like nothing is different. Matt and her sister can meet us at the airport, and we’ll all convince her to drive back to Chase’s with us. She’s not staying at a hotel in the middle of Italy when the mafia is all over town.
I turn the cameras off just before the door to the office opens, and Dereck, Nick, Cole, and Brigett walk in. She’s smiling like a Cheshire cat, and I scowl at her from across the table. Her eyes drop, but Brigett just doesn’t take a hint and keeps hanging around, cozying into the spot next to Dereck. Hopefully, she’s working on getting one of the other guys because we’re finished.
Nick and Cole set up at a side table running the intel feeds while Dereck grabs a Coke from the refrigerator and a sandwich. “Want anything?” he asks the group.
“Throw me a water would you?” Cole says, and a bottle goes soaring through the air, and he catches it.
I shake my head. I just want this fucking day to be over with, and I want the intel that will tell me what’s going on with my angel.
Cole and Nick begin typing feverishly in response to incoming messages and I am dying to know what’s happening. Fucking Brigett, go away, but she doesn’t. My phone beeps and I look at it long and hard. Fuck. Members of the Chicago Mafia are on the ground and are awaiting the landing of the Larussio jet. Snipers are in place with a hit order on one of the Larussios. I breathe a sigh of relief. They’re not after Sasha, but that means the men on the ground need to work hard to identify the snipers and take them out before they can get to Larussio.
We are still texting, and I keep glancing over at Dereck to see if he’s trying to make a move with her or not. If not, then she needs to get the hell out of here, but he doesn’t seem concerned either way and just keeps his eyes on the monitors as he downs his Coke.
