Queen of Deceit: A Dark Mafia Romance (Mafia's Throne Book 2) by Aidèe Jaimes

Author:Aidèe Jaimes [Jaimes, Aidèe]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-05-28T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 11

DILLON

It takes only ten minutes for the cleanup. These men are efficient—they have to be.

When I step out of the office into the sweltering heat, my blood-soaked shirt becomes unbearable. I search around the side of the building and find a waterspout. Quickly, I rinse my hands, dragging my palms up my forearms to get as much of Tomas off me as I can.

Enzo is waiting for me at my car, leaning casually against it with his arms crossed over his chest. “Do you have a change of clothes?” he asks, eyes raking over me from head to toe.

“I hadn’t planned on beating a man to death.” Scrunching my nose in distaste, I add, “I don’t like violence.”

“You could have fooled me,” he says sarcastically. He opens the door, slides out of his coat, and tosses it in, then proceeds to unbutton his spotless white shirt. After setting it aside, he tugs his white cotton T-shirt over his head in that way men tend to do, effortlessly, slowly unveiling decadent tanned skin.

And oh Lord, even under these circumstances, I can’t remain unaffected by his sculpted perfection. My eyes trail over his pecs and the tight six-pack of his abs, to his thickly muscled arms usually hidden beneath a tailored suit.

Arms I held onto for dear life as he pounded into me.

He tosses me his shirt and I’m gawking so hard, I nearly miss it. “You can wear that.”

“Thanks.” I get into the back seat, where I’ll be hidden by the heavily tinted windows while I dress. Taking advantage of the privacy, I also watch Enzo as he puts on his other shirt, buttoning it up with just one hand. Damn, even that he does sexily.

He slides into the driver’s seat and we take off behind two other SUVs. I don’t protest that he didn’t bother to ask if I was okay with him driving, because I’m so utterly drained from the adrenaline overdose I received from taking a life.

I slip out of my disgusting clothes, having to remove even my bra. Lucky for me, I find some McDonald’s napkins from a meal I had long ago and use those to wipe off any lingering drops of blood.

“Thank you for giving me due credit,” I say and look at his eyes through the rearview mirror.

He doesn’t reply, doesn’t even flinch.

So I finish dressing, getting into his clean T-shirt, inhaling deeply of his scent as it goes on. I can’t help but sigh, feeling as if it’s him who surrounds me. When I’m done, I climb over the center console and get into the passenger seat.

Enzo moves his shoulder slightly as I pass, seeming unaffected when I graze him, even though my hip burns from the contact. I’m disappointed that he’s so completely indifferent to me, assuming he doesn’t care if he touches me.

Then I realize I’m wrong when, out of the corner of his eye, he does see me. His gaze follows the length of my bare legs and up to my nipples as they protrude through the cotton.

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