A Dangerous Prize: A Sapphic Mafia Romance by Persephone Black

Author:Persephone Black [Black, Persephone]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-29T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

NATALIE

I wake all at once, suddenly conscious, with Alessa de Luca in my arms and my body aching for hers again.

And she's awake, too, looking at me with bright green eyes, curious and cautious.

Last night floods back to me. I suck in a breath as I remember the deep, soul-shaking orgasm—not one, but two—and then all the events before then. The safe house.

The shooting. God, the shooting, and Alessa throwing herself on top of me in a completely self-sacrificing move that makes my heart tremble now as I remember it.

What does all of this mean for me?

For us?

I can't bear not to be touching her, so I roll onto her, kissing her with a feverish need, and she responds just as eagerly, the world beyond us fading into a blur. Alessa and I are the only two people in existence, our hearts beating in a harmonious rhythm.

But our private world shatters at the sound of a sharp rap at the door.

"Natalie?" Sam Wright’s voice, laden with authority and concern, slices straight through our bubble, popping me back into reality with an unpleasant suddenness.

I pull away from Alessa, my heart pounding not from the kiss now, but from the sudden intrusion. Alessa’s eyes mirror my alarm, a silent understanding passing between us. Intimacy evaporates, replaced by the stark reality of our circumstances.

Without a word, Alessa slips from my embrace, her movements fluid and silent. She scans the room, her survival instincts kicking in. In a swift motion, she slides behind the bedroom door, slim enough to be convincingly door-like.

It's as if she were never here at all. It’s a stark reminder of the life she leads, always one step ahead, always in the shadows.

I pull on my robe quickly and take a second to compose myself. And then, approaching the door, I look through the peephole. "Wright? What’s going on?" I ask, feigning exhalation with an edge of irritation.

And I don't have to feign all that hard.

"I need to talk to you. Open up. Come on, Nat."

I've never felt such grating indignation at the sound of my own nickname. "What the hell, Wright? It's not even six. Call me later or something."

"I need to talk to you," Wright insists, low and urgent. And there's something else there, something I can't quite place. He's glancing around like he wants to be sure no one is watching.

An actual chill runs down my spine.

"No," I say sharply. "I'm exhausted and you woke me up. Go away."

He takes a step back from the door, staring at the peephole as though he might be able to see me if he just glares hard enough. After a minute, he says, "Okay, Natalie. But we need to talk later."

"Fine," I snap, hoping it’ll be enough to send him away.

There’s a pause, a silent standoff through the barrier of the door, before I see him receding, glancing over his shoulder a few times at my door. He goes out of sight and I wait, listening, as his footsteps fade away.

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