Consumed by Desire: A Dark Mafia Romance by B. B. Hamel

Author:B. B. Hamel [Hamel, B. B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-05-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Olivia

I’m buzzing on the high of a successful heist. Well, a somewhat successful heist. I’m still new to this crime thing. Getting Casso time with Joyce alone in the bathroom was a stroke of genius, and it helped that Nico got involved and played goalie.

“To teamwork,” Casso says once we’re back in our private living room. I toast him and sip the heavenly red: light and fruity and slightly tart. Delicious.

“It’s a bad thing that the DA wouldn’t help, right?” I watch him pace back and forth again, trying to act as though that wasn’t a major setback. “The brothers will still sell, right?”

“They’ll sell, only the price will be higher. I could kill them both but getting possession of the place might take months or years, and by then our Russian friend might’ve already moved on to making my life even worse. Not to mention you.” He stops and studies me for the tenth time that night. I love the way his eyes roam my body. When I saw the dress Elise picked out, I told her she was crazy: I’ll look insane in this thing, are you kidding me? But she swore it’d suit me, and by the time I put it on, it was too late.

And she was right, at least based on the way Casso keeps staring. He’s not even trying to hide the naked lust in his gaze. And I like it.

He sits on the couch beside me and pulls my legs into his lap. I sip my wine to cover the excited flush that creeps into my skin. Being so close to him like this, working with him and playing his little game, I have to admit it’s a lot of fun and it feels good. I feel useful, but two things keep nagging at me. First, I feel like I’ve forgotten Manuel—he’s the reason I’m still here at all. I’m supposed to be trying to find out who killed him, but I’ve gotten all tangled instead.

But second, the memory of what happened the last time I let myself get caught up in Casso’s attention is pressing, if not downright intrusive.

He keeps talking about what to do and I listen, nodding, smiling, drinking the wine, and his hand remains on my legs, moving up my calf slowly, creeping closer to my thigh, seeing how far I’ll let him go. And I’ll let him go as far as he wants right now. I don’t stop him as he brushes along my thighs and a shiver of delight runs down my spine. Casso hits a button on a remote and the fireplace comes to life, gas flames rippling, orange and blue.

“I want to talk to you about something,” I say, working up the courage and finding it’s barely there. “And you’re not going to like it.” This is the wrong moment, I know. But we’re both in a good mood, basking in the wine haze, and I want to get this over with. Especially if his hand’s going to keep creeping up my body.

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