Page 12 of The Mobster’s Secret

But Ivan definitely took my breath away. I mean, what a man. It’s like he stepped out of a magazine or slid in from another dimension.

And it’s not like I went all the way or anything.

So I let him get a taste of me. So what? Ivan could get any woman he wanted. But he wanted me, and just the thought sends a fizzy feeling through my chest.

My phone buzzes, and I pick it up. Eight missed calls from Greta.

Are you fucking dead? Her text reads. I call back. She answers on the first ring.

“Um, hello? What the hell happened to you? I’ve been calling non-stop. I saw you get dragged off the stage, but these dudes in suits wouldn’t tell me where you were.”

I glance down and see all the missed calls. “Sorry, yeah…it’s a long story, and I passed out as soon as I got home.” Stretching, I get out of bed and walk down the hall to her room. It’s empty. “Where are you?”

“On my way back from some guy’s house,” she scoffs. “He paid me like four hundred bucks to just cuddle with him all night.”

I frown. “Greta, I know you. That’s not all he wanted.”

Long pause. I can just picture the smirk on her face.

“Okay, so he wanted me to rub my feet on his face,” she laughs. “What’s the big deal, right?”

“Hey, no judgment here,” I reply with a grimace she can’t see.

I hear a car out front and look out to see Greta pulling up. “I’m home,” she says. “I’ll be upstairs in ten seconds, and I want to hear about the rest of your night at the club.”

She hangs up before I can even answer.

Oh, boy. This is going to be interesting. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to tell her about last night—what happened between Ivan and me. How I feel about him.

I’m not even sure how I feel.

When I was standing there in front of him, staring up at his muscled frame, dark eyes, slicked-back hair, and perfectly tailored suit, I could feel the desire. Verbally sparring with him was a fun game in itself, and then there was what happened after…

And not just the dancing.

My first orgasm that didn’t come from my finger. Even now if I close my eyes, I can feel the heat between my thighs and the vivid memory of his skilled tongue licking me with such hunger. Rolling back and forth around my clit while his lips enhanced everything.

God was I anxious when he started kissing down my body. But when he looked up at me, his eyes intense with lust, I felt like I belonged. Like we belonged together. I was adamant about not letting him pay me for sex, but I was almost there. I can still see his massive cock as it twitched and flexed, erupting with long ropes of milky white release.

Taking a deep breath, I walk back into my bedroom and open the briefcase. There it is. Eighty thousand dollars. For Ivan, it was a simple task of getting one of his men to bring it to him. To me? It’s lifechanging.

The apartment door opens, and Greta blows in like a storm, kicking off her shoes and pulling off her long, black trench coat. She’s even wearing her black lingerie from last night.

“Okay, so spill it,” she says, sitting down beside me. “What’s with the dudes in suits? They looked like hitmen. Were they the guys Chris said were coming in? If he linked you up with hitmen—”

“They weren’t hitmen,” I reply. Greta sighs a deep sigh of relief. “But…”

“But?”

“They were gangsters.”

Her eyes widen. I can’t tell if she’s concerned or excited. “Ever heard of the Oleff crime family?”

Her jaw drops, and she leans in. “Tell me everything.”

I recount the whole story from last night, leaving out some of the more explicit details. It’s not like I’m embarrassed, and I know Greta wouldn’t judge me. It’s just that part of me still isn’t ready to share what happened between me and Ivan with the rest of the world.

When I’m finished, she just stares at me, no doubt processing a story she never thought she’d hear from me.