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“They’re being taken care of and the next tour will be on me; I refunded everyone.” At once, she’s in my arms with her legs around my waist and peppering my face with kisses. Nothing is stopping her from showing me how happy I make her, not her goose-down jacket or the scarf around my neck. Gem is a woman on a mission, and when her lips graze my neck a second before she bites down, sucking the skin between her teeth and marking me, I grow hard. Motherfucking throb. “Behave, sweetheart. You know I have no qualms and will pull you between two buildings and bury myself deep while my men block the entire street. No one will see you, but fuck me, will they hear you.”
She shivers, biting her lower lip before placing them a hair’s breadth from mine. “Promises, promises.”
“You’ll pay for this.” Unwrapping those exquisite thighs from around my waist, I set her down and pull back just enough to not touch. My wife knows I bloody need her. All day. That I spend every waking second thinking of ways to get between her thighs, and if she wants to finish this tour, one of us needs to behave.
Moreover, it’ll be me because those gorgeous eyes are begging me to do the opposite...
To taste. To bite. To claim.
“Please.”
A throat clears, and I look over to where the tour guide nervously averts his eyes. “Would you like more time or—”
“We’re ready. Carry on.”
“Perfect.” The older man smiles, though he’s intimidated by me. “Would you like to start from the beginning or take up where we left off, Miss?”
“Mrs. please...” she says immediately, correcting him “...and yes. From the start is preferred by us.” The little shite. “Right, Mr. Jameson?”
“Of course, love.” Then, because I’m an arsehole without remorse, I pinch her backside, making her yelp and glare: two things that I find amusing. “I’m ready to learn about our shady history.”
He gulps, but his expression remains calm. “Of course, sir. Let us walk to the end of these buildings where the story of...” I tune him out, but I do find it amusing how arse over tit he becomes to please my girl as the tour begins. Instead, I watch her eyes light up with every rehearsed anecdote he shares, and that tiny notebook she holds in her hands doesn’t get used to point out facts or ask questions. The two become the best of pals while I walk close by and keep my ear open for anything that could pertain to the modern British mob.
Me.
“And this is where the body was disposed of.”
“Right here?” For something considered morbid, Aurora is smiling and taking pictures of the building and place with her iPhone. Her fascination with this is hilarious to me, especially coming from a mafia background and being married into another. Because I did take over for her old man—for her—but I never left the Jameson family.
Now, we are one and the same and stretching our control into an inter-continental operation.
One that doesn’t end in Boston or London.
I have bigger plans, and Aurora knows this. She agrees.
“Did you hear that, babe?” Gem asks, her voice taking on that high pitch of excitement. “He’s going to take us to a private hideout that’s not on the tour, but he has permission to show us.”
“That’s great.” I’d rather have you ride my tongue, sweetheart. “Lead the way.”
“My pleasure.” He looks at my wife with fondness, and not in a sexual way. More like appreciation for someone that actually enjoys this shite, even though we are the contemporary embodiment of this tour, something he knows, and his fear is palpable each time our eyes meet. “Right this way.”
My mobile rings inside my pocket then, and it’s Callum’s tone. Gem looks my way while the man carries on, oblivious to the questions in her eyes that have nothing to do with crime lords of the past.
I arch a brow and she nods, telling me to answer. My cousin isn’t one to ring without a reason, and more so when I’m on a bloody date with my wife.
“Oi,” I greet into the line, my eyes on the two walking a few steps in front of me to the next stop. “Everything okay?”
“They’re moving it up.”
“How soon?” The sound of what I know is the harbor comes through his end, the wind loud in the background. “Tonight, around two a.m., says my guy from the dock’s receiving office. They’re afraid it’ll be confiscated by some art thief from Gem’s side of the pond.”
“Is that so? This bloke checks out?” Gem looks back at me, but I shake my head with a smile. There’s no need for her to be worried.
“He does, and the tourist seems to have the buyer with him here. Fast transaction.”
“How many are coming with us, and the time?”
“I say an hour after you take your last cuppa before bed, and two more should do the trick.”
