You Don't Own Me: A Bad Boy Mafia Romance (The Russian Don Book 2) (56 page)

B
lake’s private plane drops me off on the mainland. I take a boat out to the island and get the man to drop me off in the sea, swimming distance from the beach.

‘You sure?’ the boatman says.

‘I’m sure,’ I tell him and jump into the water.

‘Must be island love,’ he says, grinning and starting his motor.

I kick off my shoes, pants and top and then I begin to swim. I spot him immediately. He must have heard the engine of the boat.

He is standing alone, a mountain of a man, his hands jammed deep into his trouser pockets, staring out into the sea. He looks so abandoned and so despondent that my heart bleeds for him. This is my man. For better or worse I’m sticking to him.

When my feet touch sand I begin to walk toward him. It is that first morning we arrived. Me coming out of the sea. Him watching and waiting on the beach. I come out of the water and walk up to him, my feet sinking in the soft sand noiselessly. About five feet away I stop walking and we gaze at each other.

Oh God, the sight of him.

In two days he has already picked up the kind of golden tan that I would kill for and there are blond streaks in his hair that I have fantasies about. Something quivers inside me. Damn it, he is just so mind-numbingly handsome it is unfair. Objectively, the guy is more fuckable now than I have ever seen him before. An image of him naked flashes into my mind.

He takes his hands out of his pockets and lets them hang loosely by his sides. I love his hands. Big, manly… Useful. For putting into crab tunnels. For the first time since I have known him he seems tongue-tied.

‘Hey,’ I greet softly.

‘I didn’t run away,’ he mutters.

I barely catch it over the sound of the waves. He sighs. ‘I was working on a plan. You had to know that I chose you over the stones.’

‘I know that.’

‘And I wasn’t part of the team that tried to rob Lana’s jewels either.’

‘Oh! I
know
that.’

‘I was going to steal the pink diamond pendant that Lana wore to the art exhibition, but that was before I knew she was your friend.’

‘It’s OK, baby. I know you were not trying to hurt me.’

‘I love you. You know that, right?’

Tears start slipping quietly down my face. ‘That’s good because I’m crazy about you.’

He takes two steps toward me. ‘I want to marry you.’

I grin through the tears. ‘That’s real handy. I always wanted to be married on a beach.’

‘I’ll have to go straight. We might have to pay taxes and stuff.’

‘That’s OK. I’m quite rich in my own right.’

He looks at me quizzically. ‘You returned the jewels, right?’

‘Some,’ I agree non-commitally.

For a few seconds he looks at me with a mixture of shock and disbelief, and then he grabs me as if he
owns
me and pushes me to the soft sand and falls sprawled and laughing on top of me.

‘Tell me,’ he growls.

‘I gave Blake a few token pieces to return to their rightful owners in exchange for you.’

He looks at me curiously. ‘Blake bought that? He’s too sharp.’

‘Of course he didn’t, but I told you there are benefits to being his wife’s best friend.’

‘Where are the gems now?’

‘In left luggage, Victoria Station.’

‘You left hundreds of millions worth of jewels in Victoria station?’

‘Relax. It’s the safest place for them.’ 

He laughs and runs his fingers along my cheekbone. ‘Oh, Billie. You are a girl after my own heart,’ he says, and there is such a look of love and tenderness that I feel my insides melt. I look into his eyes, molten gold in the bright sunlight and the reflections of the sand. My face feels hot and there is already a wet throbbing in the soft flesh between my thighs.

‘Do you feel like fucking?’ I ask, arching my eyebrows.

‘Always.’

‘Because I’m ready to explode in a very unladylike way.’

He looks at me the way I would look at a very beautiful gerbil. ‘I love you, Billie. I’ve never felt for anyone or anything the way I feel for you.’

He takes my bra off and starts kissing my breasts. ‘You know,’ he murmurs, ‘I think I fell in love with you in that club on the very first night we met.’

‘And that’s why you didn’t call me, huh?’

His gaze is warm. ‘I always knew I was going to call you. There is no one in the world like you, Billie Black. But I had problems. I didn’t know you were friends with Blake and Lana. And then Ebony became angry and contacted the Mafia and my cover was blown forever. The best way to get caught is to lose control and team up with impulsive psychopaths. I didn’t want to do it so she went behind my back.’

‘She’s in love with you, you know.’

‘No she isn’t,’ he retorts instantly.

‘You’re such a man. So clueless.’

He frowns.

‘She came to see me.’

‘A fat lot of good that must have done her.’

‘Oi! Whose side are you on?’

‘Yours, yours and yours.’

‘Keep going.’

‘I’ve actually got to show you something.’

My eyes flick meaningfully to his crotch. ‘Take off your trousers then?

Patience, Black. Patience. He sits up and twists away from me, and I see that his entire back is filled with a massive spider tattoo. It is still raw and fresh.

‘Oh my god,’ I cry.

‘Do you like it?’

‘I love it,’ I scream. ‘But why?’

He shrugs. ‘I never could before. I was always trying to blend into the background of the titled, the moneyed and the famous. I’m finished with all that now.’

‘It’s totally boss.’

‘Good. Because I did it for you.’

‘Does this mean you get to be on top until that spider heals?’

He cocks an eyebrow. ‘Let’s get one thing straight, Miss Black. You’re
always
going to be underneath me. Got that?’

‘Loud and clear.’

His grin flashes. ‘Now get fucking naked.’

‘Make me,’ I say.

And he does.

The End

Interested to know more about Blake and Lana Barrington?

Read about them in The Billionaire Banker Series.

Links:

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Finally, here is a sneak peak into the contemporary romance I am writing with newcomer to this genre, Laura Jack.

GEORGIA LE CARRE

&

LAURA JACK

Tori

‘I
beg your pardon,’ Dr. Maurice Strong, London’s top plastic surgeon, said with a perfect mix of British snobbery and professional contempt.

Anybody else would have cringed, but not Britney. She had absolutely no problem repeating her certifiably weird request.

‘I want you to make my eyes look like a cat’s. You know, going upwards, like this.’ She laid her forefingers on the outer corners of her eyes, and pulled the skin upwards, as high as her seventeen-year-old skin would stretch.

Dr. Strong glanced at me as if he suspected this was some sort of a schoolgirl prank.

I’ll admit it was a feat not to laugh at the crazy scene unfolding before my eyes, but I was damn good. I kept my expression shit-hot blank. It was more than my job was worth to express even a hint of mockery at Britney’s frequent forays into lunacy. I was paid by her father to follow her around, fetch, carry, and generally baby her.

How can I describe my job? Well, I guess, it was a bit like the ass-wipers of ancient China. No, I’m kidding. Straight up serious. Apparently, every great emperor had a manservant whose sole duty was to carefully clean his master’s ass after he had done a number two, and carry the precious royal droppings away to be disposed of. But here’s the best part of this little nugget from the past. You’d think that would have been considered the most horrible occupation a man could have, wouldn’t you?

Not so.

Since the emperor was considered a god in human form, direct from heaven itself, it was an awesome job eagerly fought over by many candidates. The lucky guy got to smell and dispose of a god’s poop. Unfortunately for me, other than the silent laugh factor to my job there was no such satisfaction in mine.

Getting nada from me, Dr. Strong pushed his glasses halfway down his nose (strange how plastic surgeons never have great noses) and peered frostily at Britney from the top of his gold-rimmed glasses. It was obvious that he thought she needed professional psychiatric help.

‘You want me to operate on your eyes to make you look like a … a … cat,’ he enunciated slowly, the last word dropping like a brick into the frigid air of his consulting room.

‘Yes, that right,’ Britney confirmed, nodding her blonde head eagerly, and flashing a heartbreakingly happy smile at him.

I could already see what was coming.

Dr. Strong sighed, as if he had done this way too many times, or he might actually prefer the ass wipe job. He clasped his hands on his desk and looked at her sternly. ‘I’m sorry Miss. Hunter but I’m here to make people look better not turn them into ridiculous freaks.’

‘No, no, no, you don’t understand,’ Britney launched hastily into an explanation, sheer panic turning her voice into the high, whinny drone that always hurt my ears. ‘It will look brilliant.’

‘It may look
brilliant
, but I’m afraid I’m not the doctor for you.’

‘Oh, but I want you to do it. You’re the best,’ Britney wailed. He didn’t know it, but we were this close (half-an-inch between thumb and forefinger) to a full-blown tantrum.

Dr. Strong looked like he was sitting on a toilet and had not eaten enough fiber to make it a worthwhile exercise. ‘Then take my advice and stop trying to ruin a perfectly good pair of eyes.’

‘I’ll pay more,’ she offered suddenly.

Oh! Britney, Britney.

For the first time a flash of anger showed on the good doctor’s face. He speared her with a stink glance. ‘If there is another issue you wanted to discuss then please do so, otherwise this appointment is over.’

‘But …’ Britney cried petulantly. ‘You did my nose and my boobs. You
have
to do my eyes.’

‘I don’t
have
to do anything.’

‘Oh please,’ Britney begged.

‘If you insist on cat eyes no doubt there will be other surgeons interested in taking on the … project.’

‘I don’t want to go to anyone else. You’re the best.’

He closed the file on his desk and looked at her with cold finality.

‘This is so unfair. I want cat eyes. I’m not asking for something unreasonable. And I’m paying. You can’t just turn me away,’ Britney raged.

‘Miss. Hunter,’ Dr. Strong reprimanded strictly. ‘Kindly do not waste any more of my time.’

Britney jumped up and I quickly followed suit.

‘Come on Tori,’ she ordered huffily, and proceeded to stalk out of the office with her nose held high in the air.

I shrugged apologetically at the doctor and followed her out.

She ran past the waiting room and rounded on me in the corridor. ‘I have to find a way to make him operate on me,’ she said desperately. ‘Can you help me to convince him?’

‘Me?’ I asked startled.

‘Yes, you. You’re always so sensible.’

‘To be honest I think your eyes are beautiful as they are.’

She looked at me the way I always imagined Cesar looked at Brutus.

‘What?’ I asked, bewildered. It’s not like we were best friends or anything.

‘You don’t want me to be beautiful,’ she screeched suddenly, and ran off in the general direction of the toilets.

I stared after her for a few seconds before I turned around and slammed into a perfectly solid wall of cologne-scented, honest to goodness, male muscles. Strong, wonderfully warm hands curled around my forearms. I looked up. Okay, long tanned brown throat, unshaven jawline …

Oh! My! God!

Amused, bright green eyes fringed by eyelashes that rightly should have belonged to a girl; straight, black, cocked eyebrows; disheveled hair, and a badass smile curved on the sexiest most deliciously full lips. The kind you just wanted sink your teeth into.
Oh, and just before I faint, a chin dimple just made a late entrance to the party.
This was exactly the kind of man my best friend, Zodie would call, ‘a happening guy.’ Things happen around him.

‘Whoa,’ he said. 

How can I describe his voice? Warmed up chocolate sauce poured slowly down my naked back. Swoon, my ass, I fucking shivered.

‘Whoa, yourself,’ I croaked.

He bared his straight white teeth in a grin. It was one of those magic grins that made me want to suck it off his face.

‘Was that my sister I just saw bolting into the toilet for a quick meltdown?’

I swallowed hard. This was so not how I expected to meet Britney’s famous brother. ‘Could be, if you’re the rock star brother.’

Cash Hunter’s green eyes looked like they were on fire. ‘That’s me, babe. Rock star brother.’

‘Now might be a good time to let go of me,’ I croaked.

‘Give me one good reason I should?’ he countered lazily.

My eyebrows flew upwards. ‘My knee’s reckoning on an upwards trajectory?’

Grinning, he let go of me and raised his hand up in surrender. ‘Looks like I caught me a wild cat.’

My legs played up a little as I took a step back.

He watched me ‘Where have you been all my life, Beautiful?’

I gave a fake laugh. ‘Are you deliberately using bad lines to save on contraceptives?’

The leather-clad, powerhouse of sexy goodness threw his head back and laughed. That early in the morning the vodka fumes that hit my nostrils were strong enough to make me dizzy.

‘What’s going to work on you, wild cat? My cock wants to say hello to your pussy?’

‘Breath mints might help,’ I retorted.

‘Damn, you sure know how to suck the juice of out a tender moment.’ He rummaged around in his pocket and popped a mint into his mouth. ‘Now unless you don’t like a long, thick, cock we’re good to go.’

I looked up at him with frosty eyes. ‘Personally I think size is overrated.’

His eyes gleamed. ‘Baby, we’re in luck. There’s a man on the other side of the corridor who can customize my dong into the right shape and size for you.’

‘Hilarious,’ I said unenthusiastically.

‘I bet I can make you call me Daddy,’

‘Thanks, but … ugh no..’

‘Right: change of tack. Not that I’m giving up on getting you into my bed or anything, but want to have dinner with me tonight?’

He was too beautiful to be real.

The door behind us opened.

‘Cash,’ squealed Britney.

Cash winked at me before he turned his attention to the figure flying at him. He caught her as she wrapped her arms and legs around him like a big kid.

‘How did you know where to find me?’ she asked.

‘Isn’t this your second home?’ he asked dryly.

‘Not anymore. Dr. Strong won’t do my eyes,’ she grumbled.

‘Oh yeah. Why not?’

‘He’s says I’ll end up looking like a ridiculous freak.’

‘Hmmm… what did you want done?’

‘I want cat’s eyes.’

Cash’s gorgeous eyes widened. He nodded slowly as she told him about her appointment with Dr. Strong..

‘Well, PooBear. I think cat’s eyes are a great idea.’

Jesus. Madness must run the family.

‘You do,’ Britney asked brightly, her whole face shining with hope.

‘Absolutely. It’s a great look. It’ll make you look like one of those beauties from the fifties and sixties.’

‘What?’ Britney frowned, and climbed off her brother.

‘Yeah, you know like Zsa Zsa Gabor.’

‘Zsa Zsa Gabor. Who’s that?’

‘It’s from Dad’s time,’ he supplied with a wise nod. ‘Oh, and like …er … what was the name of that comedienne who died recently?’ He clicked his fingers and looked at me.

‘Joan Rivers,’ I suggested helpfully.

He stopped clicking and pointed at me. ‘That’s the one.’ He turned towards his sister who was looking at him with dismay. ‘Great look,’ he said approvingly.

‘But they’re both so old.’

‘So what. They had style. Style never dies, Come on, let’s go and see Dr. Strong together. I’ll help you to convince him.’ He took her arm.

Britney held back. ‘Hang on a minute. I don’t think Dr. Strong might have been right. I should think about this a bit more.’

‘Oh,’ he said innocently. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes,’ she said lamely.

‘In that case,’ he turned to me, ‘how about introducing me to this lovely creature.’

Britney turned to me. ‘Oh, this’s Tori Diamond. Dad hired her to be my PA.’

He extended a hand out. ‘Hello, Tori Diamond. Cash Hunter, Britney’s rock star brother. How nice to meet you?’

I stepped forward and put my hand into his ridiculously strong hands. Jesus, these were some hands. My imagination ran away with me.
One finger inserted deep inside me, and curling to stroke me.
Oh hell! Whew! Was it hot in that corridor or what? Heat crept up my neck.

He smirked. The smarmy bastard.

I cleared my throat. ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ I said in the poshest voice I could muster.