Total pages in book: 52
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 49968 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 250(@200wpm)___ 200(@250wpm)___ 167(@300wpm)
I poured another coffee and sat on the sofa. I knew I should look at buying a decent bed, but I was holding off. The sofa was comfortable enough for now. I could afford it, especially since I didn’t have the huge cash outlay of the rent, but I was going to wait a bit.
Aldo drifted into my mind again. He’d looked weary yesterday when I went to see him. For some reason, it bothered me to see him at his desk, eating a sandwich alone. Why, I had no idea.
I had noticed him several times while I worked. Striding across the front lobby, sometimes beside Mr. Costas, other times on his own. A few times, I saw him look into the restaurant as if he were looking for something, but Wanda said he often came in to make sure everything was okay. I had to admit, I was a little disappointed. A small part hoped he was looking for me.
Even yesterday, I saw how his gaze lingered on me. It was so intense, it felt as if he were burning my image into his head. I know I stared at him. He was handsome in a rugged, manly way. But when he spoke, his voice was calm and detached, and I wondered if I had imagined the heat I felt.
When I had impulsively kissed his cheek last week, his skin was smooth and warm under my lips. His scent, woodsy and clean, hit me, filling my head. He had looked startled but not angry. I could smell him again yesterday, sitting across the desk, the aroma pleasant and warm. His explanation about the money was acceptable, yet I still had the lingering feeling there was more to it than he was saying.
Mr. Ricci had many layers, I decided, and he hid his true self very well. I wasn’t stupid. I recognized who Roman Costas was—and the fact that he wasn’t simply a hotel/casino owner. That meant Aldo was as deep into illegal activities as Roman was since he was his right hand. But I also had a feeling there was more to both of them, aside from money and power. Everyone I spoke to had nothing but positive things to say about the men. How great they were to work for. I realized some might be naïve and not know they were syndicate men, but they were still respected and admired. There was a lot to be said about that.
At times, there was something in Aldo’s expression. His voice. I had a feeling there was more to him than people knew. I thought that protective instinct he had for Roman would blanket all those he cared for. And God forbid you crossed him. He would be lethal.
I shivered thinking about what he would be like in bed. All that power and simmering emotion he kept bottled up escaping. How his mouth would feel on mine. The control he would assert. My nipples tightened, and I felt an ache between my legs simply thinking about it.
I shook my head and stood. I would never get a chance to find out. But that didn’t stop the thoughts that washed over me.
Or my fingers playing with my clit in the shower, groaning out Aldo’s name as I orgasmed.
Twice.
CHAPTER 6
ALDO
The following Monday, Roman and I crossed the floor of the main entrance, our strides slower than normal. He was looking everywhere, covertly checking on every detail. He demanded perfection, insisting the lobby was the first impression for his clientele and he wanted it to astonish.
The illuminated fountain erupted, the water cascading over the layers of glass and crystals, the lights dancing under the flow of water. The glass dome at the top glittered in the sunlight, adding to the spectacle. It was mesmerizing and one of my favorite things in the lobby. Patrons and staff loved it. The floors gleamed, the surfaces free of dust and fingerprints. The front desk was busy, the people checking in being dealt with in a courteous, efficient manner. Everything looked good, right down to the station Roman insisted on for guests. Cold water, hot coffee and tea, plus small snacks were available to all guests twenty-four seven. The area was checked constantly and was located next to the concierge’s desk to make sure stragglers didn’t wander in and have a feast.
Roman nodded, pleased, his pace picking up. We were headed toward the casino, when his steps faltered, and he muttered a curse. “Fuck.”
I followed his gaze, seeing Mason Miller striding across the lobby, his expression dark and angry.
Roman rolled his shoulders as if preparing for a fight. I cleared my throat. “We’re in public right now.”
“I’m aware.”
Mason stopped in front of Roman, two men behind him. “Where the fuck is my sister?”
Roman tilted his head, studying him. “I think you forget who you’re speaking to,” he said softly, the undercurrent to his voice clear.