His gaze swept the room before landing on her, and once he did, he didn't stray. It was impossible not to notice the heat simmering behind those dark eyes—or the way he looked at her as if she were a possession he couldn't wait to get his hands on.

  And for that reason, as awareness crept through her, she knew this would never work.

  How the hell was she supposed to work for a man who made her feel as if she was coming out of her skin with just his gaze alone?

  Calling on every ounce of professionalism she possessed, she tipped her chin up as she crossed the floor to him, trying her best to ignore the knowing smile spreading across his face. He wasn't even trying to pretend this was anything more than a coincidence.

  "Alfie, a word."

  She didn't wait to see if he would follow her, especially not with that knowing grin of his. And the last thing she needed was to react and for others in the room to realize just how well they knew each other.

  Venturing down the hallway until she found the vacant office he had stepped out of, she walked inside and whirled around to lay into him, but the door had barely closed behind him before he was crossing the room to her, tugging her forward into his embrace by the nape of her neck, and slanting his mouth over hers.

  A moment of resistance was all she could manage before she was kissing him back, forgetting all about the reasons why she shouldn't.

  How could she not kiss him? How could she not get swept up in the intoxicating promise his lips offered?

  No one had ever kissed her the way Alfie did—as if he was starving and her mouth was the only thing that would satisfy him.

  He made her forget just that easily, but reality settled back in quickly when the sound of something crashing outside the door made her jolt and push him away. Trying to get her bearings, she fought to remember why she had brought him in here in the first place.

  "Can't say I didn't miss that, luv," he said with a smile that made her heart race.

  It was just so blatantly arrogant.

  But as simple as it was to get lost in him, she would not bend that easily. "You could have said this was your restaurant."

  He made a low noise in the back of his throat, his expression growing serious. "Would you have come if I did?"

  Maybe. "Why wouldn't I?"

  He shrugged, resting both hands on top of the cane she was only just now noticing he held. "You're here now, and that's what I wanted."

  "I can't work for you," she said quickly, remembering why they were both here.

  "Why not?"

  "I don't take on clients I've slept with."

  It muddied the waters.

  Vera had always been very careful to keep a distinct line between her business life and her personal life—and not just because of her family's connections.

  "That should make it easier, shouldn't it?" Alfie asked. "You more than anyone know what I like."

  He would not make her blush. "That has nothing to do with this."

  "What's so different?"

  "Alfie—"

  Before she could get another word out, he was kissing her again. His tongue stroking over hers, his gloved hands tangled in her hair. And for a moment—one sweet, electrifying moment—she gave in to the moment with him, kissing him back for all she was worth and clutching his shirt to keep him exactly where he was.

  This time, Alfie stopped the kiss. "I've missed that fucking mouth of yours, Vera. I have."

  He was far too addictive. "Why didn't you tell me you lived here?"

  "It wasn't important."

  "Yet you're here now, hiring me for what?"

  "Now it's important."

  He was impossible. "You asked me here, Alfie. What do you want?"

  "Beyond getting this place ready for the soft opening in a couple of months?" Alfie asked with a cock of his brow. "I thought we could pick up where we left off."

  "Alfie ..."

  "Oh, don't say it wasn't good between us," he said with a tilt of his head.

  No, she couldn't say that at all. She couldn't even bring herself to entertain the thought. Even if they had spent less than three days in each other's presence, it had still been the most amazing three days of her life.

  "That's not the point."

  "No? Enlighten me."

  "I can't work for you and sleep with you."

  His expression changed so quickly, she almost laughed. "Why the hell not?"

  "Because I don't mix business and pleasure. If you want me to work for you, then that's all it's going to be. Work."

  He looked as if the last thing he wanted was to agree, but eventually, he said, "Fine."

  "Glad we understand each other."

  Alfie leaned in close to her, resting one hand on each side of her hips. "But after ... you're mine."

  "You're awfully confident."

  "As if I don't have a reason to be, but don't worry," he said, tracing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. "I'll keep my hands to myself ... unless you ask for it."

  "Not going to happen." Again.

  "Come now, luv. Let's not say things we don't mean."

  Arrogant and infuriating. Of course, the first man who interested her in years had to be a combination of the two. "If we're going to do this—"

  "We are," he said, cutting her off.

  "If we are, then there needs to be some ground rules."

  His smile was placating. "Right, let's hear them."

  "No kissing me."

  "Unless you ask."

  "Alfie ..."

  "You have a lovely mouth, Vera. What kind of man would I be to deny myself?"

  Moving on. "And no attempting to seduce me."

  He scoffed. "During working hours."

  Vera threw her hands up, realizing there was no way she would win this argument against him. "What's the point of the rules if you're just going to ignore them?"

  "I hear you quite fine, luv. Quite fine. I'm even willing to play this little game of yours because I know how it'll end."

  She knew better than to ask—knew even that whatever he would say, she would not like—but she couldn't help herself. "How's that?"

  "In my bed."

  "I wouldn't count on it."

  "Have you thought about it?" he asked out of the blue, catching her off guard.

  "Thought about what?"

  "Punta de Mita."

  Her cheeks bloomed with heat as she thought of that last night they shared together. "Sparingly."

  His smile said he didn't believe her. "I think about it often because once wasn't nearly enough."

  "We're going to keep this professional, Alfie. That's the only way this can work."

  "And when you beg for it, know that I'm going to give you exactly what your eyes are asking for right now."

  The smart decision would have been to end it there, to just tell him she couldn't work for him and walk away. She didn't believe, mostly, that he would try to stop her, but the rational side of her seemed to turn off where Alfie was concerned.

  So instead of walking away, she knew she would take the job.

  Consequences be damned.

  Chapter 7

  Alfie ran a tight ship.

  He didn't have a sprawling organization full of dozens of people whose names he never bothered to learn or men he didn't completely trust to do anything more than stand around and fuck about.

  The Firm was small, no more than fifteen people—most of whom had come over with him from London—and all had been specifically chosen by him because they were good at what they did and knew how to keep their mouths shut.

  Loose lips were always the quickest way to end up in a prison cell, and after his last and only stint inside the correctional facility in London, Alfie had no plans to go back.

  "So you plan on telling her the truth?" Percival asked, looking away from the doors Vera and her assistant had walked out of nearly twenty minutes ago.

  Alfie drew in a breath, trying to remember when he had ever given Percival the impression they were mates. That was the problem with help. They always got a little too fucking close and liked to ask questions.

  "Remind me, yeah?"

  "Yeah?"

  "When my personal life became any of your fucking business, mate? Don't worry," Alfie said as he looked up and spotted the man's smirk before he wiped the expression off his face. "I'll wait."

  But there was also the little fact that he wasn't quite sure of the answer himself. Being in Mexico was one thing. He'd had her to himself with no distractions and no business arrangements to get in his way.

  Here in New York was a different monster altogether. Not to mention the little fact that he had a business arrangement with her brother.

  It still amazed him that it had taken them this long to cross paths at all, considering they both lived in the underbelly of society. Though it seemed she was only in it because of the last name she shared with her family.

  "Just asking, Alfie," Percival said with a shrug. He wasn’t bothered at all by Alfie's surly temper—one of the reasons he had lasted as long as he did.

  And maybe if he had an answer, he would have been able to provide one. "What's this with Draco that you say needs to be sorted?" he asked, effectively changing the subject.

  He couldn't tell whether Percival was trying not to grimace or laugh. "I told him you weren't going to be pleased about it," he grumbled, flicking the ash off the end of his cigarette as he kept pace with Alfie toward their main office of operations.

  The kid might have had a lot to learn, but Alfie knew one thing for sure. He wasn't one not to follow rules. He liked order and discipline. Precision. And if something, or even someone, wasn't doing their job properly, he got right fucking twitchy about it.

  "It'll get sorted," Alfie mumbled, half paying attention as he nodded at one of his security, Big Al, who moved to the side and opened the door to allow them through.

  His foot had just crossed the threshold when an audible boom sounded across the room, his eyes shooting in that direction just as flames sparked out and glasses shattered, sending the man standing in front of it flying off his feet and well across the room.

  The small and relatively tame explosion might have startled the people working on the floor who hadn't been paying attention to what was happening while they were working, but Alfie was just annoyed because from what he could see, it looked as if the man he'd been waiting to see was living up to his namesake again.

  Draco 'Mad-eye' McGregor—a name that came after an unfortunate incident where someone had tried to gouge his eye out. He still had the thin scars that forked out around his eye to prove it, but he'd managed to escape with his life all the same.

  He hadn't been the same after the incident. A little more surly. A lot more fucking bitter.

  But he was also better at his job for it, so Alfie didn't mind it as much when he was doing what he was supposed to.

  Now wasn't one of those times.

  As he stood across the room, watching as Draco stumbled to his feet and brushed off the front of his jeans, he clearly wasn't moving on from his attack as quickly as he should have been.

  "We all know you like to tinker with things," Alfie called as he moved farther across the floor, silence spreading with each word he spoke. "Take it apart, put it back together, and all. I've warned you, though. I have. Keep that shit out of the factory, yeah?"

  As Draco turned, nodding—though even Alfie could tell the man had very little intention of listening to a word he said—he understood now why Percival had been antsy about him coming into the factory for a check-in.

  Though he was nearly a decade older than Draco, he didn't treat him or any of the other apprentices as if they were children.

  What they did wasn't child's play.

  Men's business and all.

  He liked to think of himself as easy going, willing to let people be who they were as long as business got done and everything was as he needed it to be, but certain things just weren't done.

  And the state of Draco's head was one of them.

  "Draco, my office."

  Alfie didn't wait for him to protest—as Draco was prone to do on occasion—but instead turned and headed for his office, wondering for the millionth time why he had ever decided to bring him and the others in.

  He tried to remember if he'd been this much of a little shit back in his younger days, working the corners or wherever the hell his boss sent him off to before he had a firm of his own.

  Outside of his home, Alfie didn't put much effort into his other offices. This one in the factory was the smaller of his main three and looked as old as the building where it was housed. Besides his desk, the chair behind it, and the pair of bookcases built into the walls on either side of it, there wasn't much for anyone else.

  Not that Alfie minded.

  He much preferred being alone with his thoughts anyway.

  "You know, Draco, I like to think I give you a lot of space to do what the fuck needs to be done and all, yeah?"

  The oldest of his apprentices at twenty-four, Draco collapsed into a chair, stacking his hands behind his head as he leaned back. "Fair enough."

  "See, what I need from you, yeah? I need you to move the shit, do your job, and fuck off the rest of the time. You get me?"

  Draco smiled a bit too wide. "Loud and clear."

  "That includes not blowing up my fucking factory in the process, yeah?"

  "Won't happen again, boss."

  "Good," Alfie said with a slap of his hand against his desk. "Now, what the bloody hell have you done to that hair of yours?"

  While Percival followed the rules and wasn't as much of a pain in his arse, Draco liked to test his patience as no one else did. Which was why in the week Alfie had been absent from the factory, Draco had decided to color his hair a pale blue.

  "You really giving me shit about this?" Draco asked, one dark brow shooting up. "I'm wearing the fucking suit, ain't I?"

  Alfie didn’t implement many rules when it came to his men. What they did in their off time was none of his fucking business, and so long as it didn't interfere with what he had going on here, his mantra was out of sight, out of mind.

  This wasn't out of his fucking sight, though.

  "You wanna be taken seriously, eh? Then look the fucking part. That means fix the fucking tie, do something about the hair, and keep your shit together, mate. Understand?"

  Draco flicked his fingers in a lazy salute. "Am I dismissed?"

  "Yeah," Alfie said with a nod. "Fuck on off."

  Besides, he had other things on his mind at the moment.

  All of which began and ended with Vera Markovic and how quickly he could get her back in his bed.

  The smart decision would have been to say no. To turn down Alfie and his job offer because she knew it wouldn't be easy to ignore what lingered between them despite the months that had passed since she had last seen him.

  Maybe if she had pretended the meeting never happened, her heart wouldn't be in her throat, and the thought of seeing Alfie again wouldn't send a thrill coursing through her.

  If she thought getting him off her mind was hard before, that was nothing compared to having his voice in her head whispering about all the filthy things he wanted to do to her.

  And worse, if she closed her eyes, she could almost feel his hands brushing against her skin. The harshness of his grip.

  If she wanted it, all she had to do was say yes. He would happily and eagerly give her what she wanted.

  And the more she thought about him, the more she was running out of reasons to say no.

  Though she should have known better by now than to assume anything about Alfie, Vera was still surprised when she glanced at her phone's navigation and found that she'd arrived at the address Alfie had sent her.

  And seeing the beauty that was the black painted townhouse on the lower Eastside, she was just as eager to peruse the interior.

  Grabbing her purse and bag with her iPad—because, despite the setting, this was still a work trip—she locked the car doors with a press of a button on her key fob and dashed across the street and up the flight of stairs to Alfie's front door.

  She rang the bell, brushing her hair over her shoulder as she checked her reflection in the mirrored panel of the door, and wondered for the millionth time why she had ever thought this was a good idea. It was hard enough to follow her own rules when they had seen each other at Amethyst. She couldn't begin to think how this would go now that they would be alone together for the first time in months.

  But it was too late to back out now.

  Vera had only been waiting for less than a minute before she heard a chain rattle, then the audible click of a lock turning. She was so busy mentally preparing herself for Alfie himself that she wasn't at all prepared for the rapid click of nails on hardwood floors before a small bundle of fur and energy darted out past her, let alone the barefoot, disgruntled looking Alfie racing out after him.

  "Bronson! Cheeky little bastard." The latter was said under his breath as he hurried after the gray-furred puppy with floppy ears, its tongue lolling out the side of its mouth as he kept running despite Alfie calling after him.

  Bronson didn't stop until he reached a tree at the end of the block. Tail wagging, he sniffed a patch of grass, then lifted his tiny leg, nearly falling over himself as he did. He finished just as Alfie got close, but before he could scoop him up, Bronson darted to the left and around him, making Vera laugh as she heard Alfie's annoyed curse.

  "I didn't know you had a dog," she said as she crouched down, waiting until Bronson got close before she attempted to reach for him and stroke the top of his soft head.

  Dogs, especially puppies this size, had always been her favorite, but Vasily had never allowed her or her brothers to have a pet, and by the time she moved out and got her own place, she was away from home far too often to properly care for one.

  "Hi, Bronson," she whispered with a smile as he licked the back of her fingers, his wariness all but forgotten as he moved closer, wagging his tail excitedly. "Look at these little paws."

  He was small enough that she was able to scoop him up with one hand, but she could tell with one look at his paws that while he wouldn't get too much bigger, he would get a few inches taller.