Unable to help myself, I pulled the sheet away, once again admiring his entire physique including his cock. Holy shit, he was huge, so much so I’d feel the throb between my legs for hours if not the full day. Why did that make me happy?

  I pushed back a groan and carefully returned the sheets, shifting further to the side of the bed and easing out from under the covers. With my feet on the floor, I glanced over my shoulder. Right now, I needed time alone. And the bathroom.

  His bathroom was as lavish as his bedroom, the massive space equipped with a three- or four-person shower and a gorgeous old-fashioned claw-foot tub that had been slightly modernized and was much larger. Everything was striking yet very cold, the colors far too masculine, but suited him perfectly.

  I found toothpaste and a new toothbrush and snickered. How many of these did he keep since he likely had a new squeeze over a few times a week? As my mouth foamed, I stared at myself in the mirror.

  I’d bet all my chips at the wrong time. See where it had gotten me? I’d need to play this much more carefully or next time, I wouldn’t be able to save my family.

  Or myself.

  No longer capable of looking at my ugly reflection, I rinsed out my mouth, then decided I had to scrub off his horrific scent. I couldn’t stand it any longer. The odor was like dense woods and a hint of rainwater, exotic spices and citrus. How could anyone stand the combination?

  It took me a few seconds to figure out how to start the shower and I huddled next to the door until I was certain the water was hot.

  At least he had good tastes in shower gel and shampoo. I closed my eyes as I stood under the huge water spigot, finally allowing myself to take gasping breaths. They turned into a single, horrid-sounding sob that racked my chest.

  I allowed the heated tears to fall as I reached for the shampoo. Only one week ago everything in my world had been okay. Better than okay. Now this.

  I lathered my hair and sucked back the tears, allowing anger to fill the void. Eventually, the emotion would crush out all despair. It had to. I had no other choice if I wanted to survive and keep my father’s immortal spirit alive.

  Finally, a laugh bubbled to the surface. Was he looking down on me now and frowning or applauding me? It was tough to tell with my father.

  I was so lost in the flush of anxiety that I didn’t hear a warning. There’d been no crackle of electricity as I’d experienced with Jago before, but suddenly, he was there invading my space in the shower.

  Gasping, I frantically washed soap from my eyes, immediately clawing my way to the shower door. But that would mean I’d need to get by an immovable object.

  “You’re not going anywhere just yet. Are you, mi ángel español,” he whispered in my ear.

  I wasn’t his Spanish angel. I wasn’t his anything.

  Jago wrapped his arms around me, but took my hands away, placing them on the tile before proceeding to finish washing my hair.

  A part of me wanted to push him off, even to scream at him to leave me alone, but the action felt sensual. Soothing. I closed my eyes, allowing him to use the conditioner as well. He was gentle in his actions, something that surprised me. He’d been rough the night before, but no man had ever provided me with so many amazing orgasms.

  When he was finished, he turned me around, curling his finger and using it to lift my head so I’d be forced to look into his eyes. When I wasn’t wearing my heels, he towered over me. As he rinsed my hair, I fingered the tattoos on his chest, tracing the emblem that reminded me of a firebird.

  He said nothing else as I toyed with him, and when I felt his cockhead pressing against the top of my pussy, I bit back a moan. He was physically exquisite, his cock long, thick, and hard. Every muscle was perfectly sculpted, his shoulders so broad I wondered how he fit them through a typical doorway.

  When the water ran clear, he rubbed his two index fingers down the sides of my neck to my chest, taking his time to roll them under my breasts.

  “Perfect,” he muttered before cupping them, using his thumbs to work my nipples until they were rock hard and aching. He lowered his head, every move methodical. When he pulled one hardened bud into his mouth, I gripped his shoulders and slowly eased my head back. The water continued cascading down both our bodies, steam already rising in the gorgeous space.

  He shifted to my other nipple, licking and nipping until I couldn’t hold back a moan. He growled in appreciation. Even more so when I rubbed the flat of my hand down his taut stomach to his groin. The second I wrapped my hand around the base of his cock, he sucked in his breath.

  “Are you wet for me, Genevieve?”

  “No.”

  As expected, he decided to prove me wrong, sticking several fingers deep inside. My pussy muscles immediately clamped down on them, pulsing uncontrollably. He pumped several times and my pussy throbbed more than the night before. “Are you sore?”

  “I’m… fine.”

  He chuckled. “There’s no sense in lying to me. You want this as much as I do. Say it.”

  “No.”

  The sinful action as he pinched my nipple brought me a wave of ecstasy.

  “Say it!”

  “Yes. Fine. Yes.” I laughed at myself and the ridiculous situation. I did want him, at least physically. I stroked his cock, rolling my fingers back and forth, allowing myself a couple of quick glimpses. His balls were hanging low, extremely swollen. Just like they’d been the night before. I continued rubbing him until I sensed I’d created friction.

  He seemed to love it, his jaw clenching, but his eyes lighting up. There was such fire in them, an eagerness to consume me.

  His fingers worked magic, the man thrusting just enough I was left in rapture. When he pulled them free, he purposely rubbed them against my lips. I parted them without thinking and he slipped his fingers inside.

  “You’re very wet and all for me.” His deep, guttural sounds brought a wave of desire that couldn’t be denied. He knew it. I knew it.

  Jago spun me around to face the wall once again, using his knee to kick my legs apart. When he gripped my hips, tugging me away until my back was arched, he pressed the tip of his cock against my wetness.

  The fact he didn’t immediately plunge his shaft inside annoyed me. “Just fuck me.” I had no idea why I’d begged him and while the thought was repulsive, I was ready to repeat my request.

  But I didn’t need to.

  Everything about the man drove me crazy and made me angry, but when he fucked me, there was such an intensity that I was lost in the moment. This was nothing but a game, a sick and dangerous one that could get us both hurt. But that didn’t seem to matter to him.

  The powerful Spaniard acted as if he was incapable of being killed. That should infuriate me, but it was just another intense and electrifying draw to him.

  He drove his cock inside, holding us both still as he nuzzled against my ear. I tilted my head, closing my eyes as the water splashed over us. The sensations were incredible. As he pulled out, driving into me again, I shuddered in his hold.

  I had no way of knowing how long we were coupled together, but he was insatiable, refusing to let me go. He brushed his hand around my leg, fingering my clit as he fucked me. Within seconds, I was rocking into his hand, bucking to the point the water splashed everywhere. Tiny moans couldn’t be denied and I didn’t care that he knew how much I was enjoying this.

  All I cared about was being allowed an incredible release. He pinched my clit and I was so over-sensitized that almost immediately I erupted, the climax curling my toes.

  “Jesus,” I breathed, hanging my head as the wave kept my pussy throbbing, clenching around his shaft. Coming down wasn’t easy nor was it quick, but as soon as I did, he pulled out and I looked over my shoulder.

  He grinned in a way that lit up his eyes. “Don’t worry. I’m not done.” The moment he pushed the tip of his cock against my asshole, I realized I’d arched my back even more. There was no tension in the anticipation of what he was about to do, no disgust either.

  I wanted him to take me in every way. The admittance was something I’d never allow to happen again, but I would enjoy this moment.

  As soon as he pushed the tip inside, he returned his grip to my hip. I slammed my hands on the shower wall, pushing back until I forced the tip in even more.

  “Greedy. Aren’t you?” he asked and continued pushing it inside.

  “Yes. Remember that.”

  “Oh, I doubt I’ll ever forget it.”

  When he was fully seated inside, I sucked in my breath. There was mild discomfort, but as with the spanking from the night before, that quickly gave way to something else. Words couldn’t adequately describe the way I was feeling. I was simply in a sweet place of bliss.

  He fucked me long and slow. Even the way he dug his fingertips into my skin with enough force to create bruises added to the pleasure.

  Every part of my body continued to throb and there was such a freeing feeling about being here with him. It couldn’t and wouldn’t be repeated, but it gave me a sense of being. Maybe I was finally ready to come into my own as a leader.

  And as a woman.

  His breathing became labored and I sensed he was ready to come. I bucked against him, meeting every hard thrust and he cracked his hand against my aching bottom twice before finally letting go.

  Every sound he made echoed in the space and the feel of his hard body as he collapsed against mine was truly a reminder I was all woman and had craved something exactly like this.

  Only not from him.

  When he finally relaxed and pulled away, the tension we’d shared before returned. This wasn’t some love affair so I couldn’t allow my guard to fall. I doubted he would either.

  “When you’re finished, we need to talk. I’ll leave you a robe. Come downstairs.” With that, he left me alone in the shower.

  It felt odd and not just from the cool air from the rest of the bathroom wafting in, but because he’d left so abruptly. Not that I’d expected pillow talk or some soft romantic words, but Jesus. It was just another volley or the move of a chess piece.

  He wanted me disarmed for the rest of our conversation.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  I made him wait.

  Maybe a little too long, but what the hell? I took a luxurious shower, found some hair gel, and took my time relaxing.

  When I did finally make it downstairs, he was standing fully dressed with a mug of coffee in his hand. He slowly lifted his head, the smirk from the night before returning.

  I still had on a robe, my dress left in a ball on the floor of his office. He thought it was another moment of control for him. He should think again. I’d done some of my best casework as an intern in a robe much like this one.

  “Would you like some coffee?” he asked.

  “Yes. Black. Very black.”

  He lifted a single eyebrow and poured a second mug, being careful not to touch me again by placing the cup on the counter for me to grab.

  I did, immediately turning away from him and heading to the window. “You have a lovely view.” He really did.

  “It’s decent.”

  “You don’t really care. Do you? As long as it’s the biggest and most expensive then you’re fine. Right?”

  “Something like that.”

  “There’s more to life than wealth and power.”

  I didn’t know why I was bothering.

  “Tell me about the deal so I can have my attorney look it over. I will expect it in writing, by the way. If we decide to enter into an agreement, every aspect will be denoted and agreed to.” When he didn’t say anything, I turned around and gave him the same smirk as he’d given me. “Understood?”

  “Understood.”

  “Good. Then let’s hear what you have in mind.” I took a sip of coffee, trying to act nonchalant.

  “While you might not like hearing this, having a woman in a leadership in this type of position is basically unheard of. Also, very dangerous.”

  “Dangerous. Interesting. And sexist.”

  He laughed. “Not necessarily. I don’t need to tell you how treacherous it could be. Plus, you know from your father and the fact you’ve spent your entire life in his protection that much of the work we do and the unwritten rules set in place occurred hundreds of years ago.”

  “You’re trying to remind me that the mafia gurus are old and set in their ways?”

  “Something like that.”

  I sensed his irritation. While I loathed admitting anything coming from his mouth made sense, I couldn’t deny the ugliness. “Agreed. I don’t like it and that needs to change, but I do understand. What is your point? That my men will turn on me or that I won’t be taken seriously?”

  “That’s exactly my point, Genevieve. Also, that you and everything you own can be taken easily.”

  “As in I’m weak,” I scoffed.

  “Yes.”

  “If you’re suggesting that you become some front man for whatever combined business we put together, think again.”

  “That’s not what I’m suggesting at all, although that would make things easier if you agreed.”

  “I won’t.”

  “As expected,” Jago said and walked closer. Why did I have a feeling I wasn’t going to like what he had to say? “Then it’s simple.”

  “How so?”

  “You will marry me and I’m afraid I can’t take no for an answer.”

  CHAPTER 15

  Jago

  “You need a wife.”

  Those were my father’s exact words when I’d spoken to him the morning before. His words had cut through me like a sharp blade, both jarring and amusing at the same time.

  He’d attempted to orchestrate my entire life over the years. I’d hated him for it.

  When I’d asked him why, he suggested that it would allow me to project a stronger sense of leadership. He’d gone on further to tell me that’s what he’d done by marrying my mother. I’d been under no grand illusion that he’d married her out of love.

  No man in my position or one in their right mind allowed a woman to enter their realm because of true adoration. That was close to signing a death warrant.

  Every relationship was complicated, but when you considered entering one that involved any closeness between two people alone, that presented the possibility of destruction.

  I’d laughed in his face.

  Why did I need to project some image? Yes, it was past time I had heirs, but being a drug lord of an empire such as what I’d grown up in wasn’t anything like a typical crime syndicate. It was the survival of the fittest. I’d simply been lucky that my father was still alive. By all rights, the devil should have taken his life more than once.

  That’s why I’d never entertained the thought of having a family. Either I’d be killed, or they’d be taken from me.

  Why would I bother with the angst?

  I’d swept it from my mind immediately upon ending the call. The discussion had been finished and I’d told him as much.

  I didn’t know why the idea suddenly seemed more palatable, except that something deep had stirred in me the night before. I’d thought it nothing more than the usual desire to own something that didn’t belong to me. But when that had occurred before, I’d grown bored, almost instantly tossing out the item or the person without second thinking my decision.

  Yet when I’d awakened and she hadn’t been in my bed, my first thought hadn’t been filled with anger, but concern. What the fuck did that mean? I’d hopped out of bed, almost to the point of losing my shit until I’d seen the light under the bathroom door.

  When I’d tasted her again, I’d been forced to face the fact I wanted more. What I was proposing was dangerous but could prove effective.

  Only she needed to be a willing partner. This wasn’t like some typical arranged marriage in the Italian mob where the father forced his daughter into basic slavery. If she didn’t agree and wasn’t on board, she’d cut my nuts off the first chance she got before gutting me in the middle of the night.

  It didn’t matter that we had damn good sex.

  Genevieve didn’t react at first other than to blow on the liquid in her mug and take a sip. Her words came a full minute later. “You’re joking.”

  “No, I am not.”

  Her sigh was exaggerated on purpose. “How would this work?”

  “We’d get married in the eyes of God and man so when the news leaked, the union would seem legitimate.”

  “Right. But this would just be a contract.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “And that would make me seem more credible in the eyes of the pricks in whatever syndicate we come in contact with.”

  “Yes,” I told her. “No one would dare try and attack the wife or family of a drug lord. At least initially.”

  “Oh, but eventually they’ll just come in and kill me? Is that what you’re saying?”

  “No, whatever enemy we face is more likely to attempt to slaughter me.” That was partially a lie but scaring her any more than I’d already captured in her eyes wouldn’t have her running to the altar.

  “Leaving me a widow and oh-so vulnerable.” Her voice dripped of sarcasm.

  I nodded. “Do you understand what the Turks and Moroccans will do if they gain any control, especially of your territory?”

  “Buy and sell more drugs.”

  “Not just that. The Moroccans have been involved in slave trading for decades. I’m talking about the abduction and selling of women and children to the highest bidder. Often their husbands and fathers are slaughtered attempting to protect their families. They sell to countries where I assure you these people can never escape from and will never be freed. They will live out their lives performing sex acts with dozens of men. If they’re lucky, they’ll die a quick and early death. They once took from poor countries in Africa and South America, but the need for more… exotic women, more cultured women have driven them to try and invade our country. I hope you can read between the lines, Genevieve.”