Page 193 of The Enslaved Duet

I had a feeling di Carlo had gotten his own way since birth, and the idea of anything else was utterly inconceivable to him.

“You do, and I’ll give you what you want on the micks,” Ren offered easily, but his eyes seemed to cut through di Carlo like a hot knife through butter, slicing through his shields until the heart of his desire was laid bare to Ren’s calculating gaze.

I knew a ‘mick’ was a derogatory term for an Irishman because Seamus had taught me as such, but I had no clue why the offer of information on them made the Cosa Nostra crime boss grin almost manically.

“I want it now, Ren,” he demanded.

“After the game,” he countered as if he was in a position of great power while sitting in di Carlo’s own hub, surrounded by his men all of whom were obviously carrying weapons.

Di Carlo vacillated, glaring at Ren, then sweeping his eyes over the rest of us before shoving away from the table. “Fine. You have one hour before I return. And Ren? If the information isn’t good, I just acquired a new nail gun I’d love to demonstrate for you.”

Ren waved the threat away with his hand and then slid his eyes to the nervous, waiting card-dealer and raised his brows. “Shall we then?”

The cards were dealt, and the first three laid down on the felt before Ren spoke again, his voice as coy as a serpent in the grass. “If you want the information, I’ll need something more than money from you, Davenport.”

Alexander didn’t seem surprised by this. He merely lifted a cool brow in question as he raised the pot by fifty dollars.

“Her,” Ren said, pointing a long finger at me. “She has to kneel at my side the entire game, and if I win, she must spend an hour alone with me.”

Denial was written all over Alexander’s suddenly concrete form. Not even his chest moved with breath. He was so still, he seemed dead and mummified sitting there with his hands on his cards and his eyes tipped to the felt.

I thought about answering for him, agreeing to Ren’s conditions because I’d rather spend one hour in a room alone with a mafioso than the rest of my life being hunted by the Order who were, most likely, ten times more malicious.

I refrained, though, because I had promised Alexander I would follow his lead, and it seemed utterly imperative that I do so at that moment.

Even Dante, strung taut as a wire at my other side, did not speak for his brother, though I knew he wanted to.

We waited, the silence almost vibrating with strain.

“If I win,” Alexander began to say slowly in his cultured words formed out of ice. “You will tell me the location of the next Order of Dionysus auction in the cityandabroad. You will give me the information immediately following the game. In addition, should I need a favour from you in the future, you will be open to receiving it.”

Ren’s eyes narrowed at his audacity before he let out a little chuckle. “Ballsy. I thought you Brits were known for your conservatism.”

“Clearly you’ve forgotten the ruthlessness of the great British empire,” Alexander said drolly.

Ren’s eyes sparkled with wicked mirth. “Clearly. Well then, I approve.” His eyes slid like an ice cube over my body, leaving a cold trail in their wake as he sized me up and then smiled thinly. “I believe your service is required at my side,bella.”

Alexander scowled at his endearment, but surprisingly, he didn’t protest. Instead, he stood and helped me to my feet. I was just moving away when his hand tightened on my hand, and he jerked me forward into his solid chest. My lips parted on an exhalation of breath, and then his mouth was sealed over mine, his tongue parrying hotly with mine in a quest for domination even though he knew I’d eventually give it freely.

I moaned, caught up in the heat that bloomed between our mouths and sank roots deep into my belly, down into my sex.

When he finally pulled away, his firm, full mouth was damp with my attentions. Before I could help myself, I raised on my toes and licked across his swollen lower lip before biting the plumpness between my teeth.

His eyes sparkled like frothing champagne as I stepped back, pride and abiding lust bubbling through the silver.

He tipped his chin slightly, and I went, rounding the table with my hips rolling, legs as fluid as honey poured over the floor.

The men watched me, and Ralston even adjusted himself in his trousers. When I reached Ren and gracefully collapsed into a kneel at his feet, I caught the lust in their eyes trained on me like spotlights, lighting me up with his desires.

I knew the dress had been a good idea.

And though Alexander wasn’t usually one for blunt force, his show of ownership was apparently just the show these possessive Italians needed.

Ren looked down at me, the only man without want clouding his vision. Instead, he studied me like a bug under glass, cataloguing my attributes and reading the intent in my face.

“Beautiful,” he said softly, just for me even though everyone else could hear him under the low music. “But then, that’s been somewhat of a curse for you, hasn’t it, Cosima?”

I slanted him a hard look, but I wasn’t surprised. He was a man of information, so of course he had known who I was the entire time. It only made me curious what his end game was. Did he mean only to play havoc with the Davenport brothers by so obviously displaying me at his side?