Page 8

7

KILIAN

B y the time I get back to my penthouse in London, my anger has erupted. It’s past boiling. Bella Gallo, the woman who left me without a word, the woman I spent three years looking for, the woman I thought was a ghost, was standing right in front of me. And her name isn’t Bella Gallo, it’s Mirabella Di Masio.

I punch my fist through the wall in my office as I pick up my phone and contact Tomas. He answers on the first ring.

“I need you to find everything out that you can about a Mirabella Di Masio. She lives in Cefalù, Sicily.”

“Do you have any other information on her?” Tomas asks.

“She is related to a mafia family. But I believe she changed her name. Di Masio is not her last name.”

I hear the scratch of a pen on paper through the phone line. “I’ll call you in two days.” Then he hangs up on me.

I slide into my desk chair and rest my head in my palms. My mind is in overdrive. Who the hell is she? How did she disappear without a trace, that not even my men could find her? She has to be related to the mafia. It’s the only way she could have disappeared the way she did.

I feel my heart tighten in my chest as I think about how she looked. That damn perfect body hasn’t changed. If anything it’s gotten even more appealing. I remember the feeling and taste of every curve of her body. The sounds she would make as I licked my way from her toes to her lips. How her body sucked me in every time I entered her. The feeling of her nails across my back. Her teeth on my shoulder. The way she gave me her entire body like it belonged to me.

I take a deep breath as I try to push away the thoughts of her. But it’s no use. I haven’t been able to get her out of my head since the day we met.

I slide onto a stool in the corner of one of the busier pubs in Dublin. My head pounding from a day of fixing business deals. I should kill the man that fucked everything up for my father but I know I need to wait until I find out more information. He couldn’t have been working alone. There is too much fucked-up shit going on for one stupid, power-hungry man to do. And Carl is worthless. He doesn’t have the mental capacity for this shit. If it was someone like me, I can understand one man doing it all. But there is only one me and that is why my father sent me to fix it.

Not that I mind coming to Ireland. I have my own home here in Dublin. My grandparents live less than an hour north of the city on a sprawling estate. The same place my mother grew up. I loved coming here as a kid. And I still love coming here now. It feels like home, more so than London ever has.

“What can I get you?” an unfamiliar female voice asks me.

I’ve been coming to this place since I was eighteen. And that is not a voice I recognize. I look up to meet dark eyes, so dark they are almost black. Lush, black waves reach halfway down her chest. A chest with a tank top on that does little to cover her full breasts, accentuating her tiny waist. My eyes trail down her body to find full hips with jeans glued on to her. My gaze travels up her body as she folds her arms across her chest, only pressing her tits higher. She’s young, far younger than me but those full lips and sassy eyes have me clenching my fist.

Perfection.

“It’s a hundred euro to look at me like that.”

I smirk at her. “You are worth far more than a hundred euro.”

She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re right. I’m priceless. But unfortunately for you, I’m not on the menu. Now order a damn drink or get out.”

I laugh at her rebuttal. “The Brennans would never kick me out of here.”

She raises a brow at me and the sassiness in her eyes is turning me on. “You think that if you just spit out the owner’s name, I’m going to believe that you know them? I’ve been working here for six months and never seen you here before.”

I shrug. “I travel for work.”

“Sure.” She taps her finger on her arm, her patience with me growing thin.

I want to tease her, drag on this game but I need a drink more than anything. “I’ll have a fifteen-year Redbreast. Neat.”

“That’s a hundred-euro whiskey. How do I know you can pay for it?”

I snort at her as I look down at myself. I’m dressed nicer than anyone in here. My custom-made three-piece suit yells money and she knows it.

I lean forward so our faces are inches apart. “I was willing to pay far more to look at you. Trust me, I can afford it. In fact, why don’t you pour yourself one, doll.”

“Don’t call me doll,” she snaps as she turns her back to me and grabs a step stool and reaches up to grab the whiskey this bar keeps stocked for me.

I run my fingers along my lip as I watch that perfect ass of hers. She is definitely priceless. And I am willing to bet her screaming my name will be just as priceless.

She stomps over to me and sets two glasses down as she pours the aged whiskey into the glasses. “It’s so nice of you to buy me a drink. But your prickish attitude is buying my ass a double.”

I smile at her. “Whatever you want, doll.”

She stops pouring and snaps her gaze to me. “You are about to make it a triple.”

“Whatever you want,” I say again, a tease in my voice.

She rolls her eyes again and pushes my drink to me. “That’s three hundred.”

“Keep my tab open.”

A man a few seats down yells to get her attention but she ignores him as she leans her elbows onto the bar in front of me, giving me a front-row seat to her tits. “Then you better be willing to buy me a lot of drinks.”

She clinks her glass to mine and I nod at her. “Sláinte.”

I take a sip of my whiskey as I watch her throw back the entire double I just paid for. “You know you’re supposed to savor it.”

“I did.” She winks at me and then walks away, serving the other patrons.

A few hours pass and the woman has already weaseled four more drinks out of me. But I don’t care. Because the more she drinks, the livelier she becomes. A gorgeous smile taking up her face as she laughs and talks with the bar patrons. I can’t keep my eyes off her. Not as she rounds the bar and serves the tables. Or as she sings along to some pop song I’ve never heard. She is a shining star, a treasure to hold and never let go of.

As the night dwindles toward closing, she slaps a bill in front of me. “Eleven hundred euro.”

“You sure you don’t want one more?” I tease her.

She shakes her head and I take in the flush to her cheeks, the slight daze to her eyes. “I have class in the morning.”

“You shouldn’t be working so late then,” I say as I throw my card on the bar.

Her hands fly to her hips. “Excuse me. I wasn’t aware that you were in charge of my decisions.”

“Not yet,” I growl.

She leans forward, her lips inches from mine. “I don’t like dominant men.”

“I’m sure that’s a lie.”

Her hand clutches my tie and pulls me even closer to her, close enough I can see flecks of gold in her obsidian eyes. “You’ll never find out.”

Fuck, this woman is getting to me. I wrap my hand in her hair and pull her so her lips are practically touching mine. “Looking for your tip?” I ask as I lick her bottom lip.

“Asshole,” she growls as she lets go of my tie and makes to push me away.

But I’m quicker and wrap my other hand around her neck and pull her lips to mine. It’s a quick rough kiss, her lips fighting mine as I suck her bottom lip into my mouth and bite. I let go before she can hit me. And when I pull away, the look on her face has me mimicking her. She’s in shock but a look of contentment crosses her features. She blinks a few times as if in confusion about what just happened. Then grabs my card and slides it through the machine.

I sign my receipt then stand and leave the bar without another word.

I think I may need to stay in Dublin just a little longer.

I rub my temples at the memory of her. Of our first meeting. Of a time when I thought she would be a quick fuck and then I would never have to see her again.

But here I am twelve years later after we first met and she has the same effect she had on me that first day. I dig through my drawer and find a picture of us. The only one I have. The two of us tangled up in sheets. She insisted we have one picture together. Both of us knowing whatever we were doing wasn’t going to last.

I run my finger over it. Outlining her cheekbones and the curve of her breast. She’s looking up at the camera and smiling with that gorgeous smile that makes my heart stop. I’m looking at her. Looking at her like there is no one else in the world that could ever matter as much. I look like a fool in love.

Fuck. I need to clear my head of her. I throw the picture back in the drawer then slam it shut.

And then it hits me. I didn’t even think to question the fact that she knew about The Partners. Knew I was involved. Who the fuck is she?