Page 41 of Widow’s Walk (Women of the Mafia #1)

Chapter thirty-six

Blackwell

T he sun casts a golden hue over the outdoor venue.

The string quartet, lush gardens, and lights strung up over our heads set a romantic ambiance. My cousin Kamea is celebrating her one-year wedding anniversary with a large party. They’re calling it their wedding ceremony do-over, since an unexpected visit ruined theirs.

After the champagne toasts and the formalities, I find myself sitting next to an attractive woman, politely humoring a conversation with her. Her name already forgotten.

I feel the shift in the air and look right at the storm in heels approaching with bad intentions. Strutting, hips hypnotic, over the pavement, eyes locked onto me and ablaze.

She says nothing when she reaches me, then slides right onto my lap, an arm looped around my shoulders, perching herself there like a throne that she owns. Her back pointedly turned towards the woman in the middle of a sentence. Deliberately ignoring her and effectively dismissing her.

My arm instinctively goes around her waist, anchoring her against me, while I don’t even attempt to hide my grin. “Jealous, sweetheart?”

She gives a subtle roll of her eyes, avoiding eye contact. “No.” She finally gives in and meets my eye. “Fine. Possessive maybe. Who knew?” She sips her wine casually.

“You’re even more intimidating like this,” I rasp, my lips brushing against her temple. “Like you’re one mood swing away from chopping a man’s balls clean off.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s Alexia Bonnetti’s signature strike.”

“You mean Alexia De Luca, and you’re right. Your style is more like a widow spider. Ripping a man’s head off after fucking him.”

She turns to me with a smirk. “You’re thinking praying mantis. Widow spiders simply kill their lover after sex. No theatrics. Just lethal efficiency.”

“I stand corrected.” I slide my hand up and down her bare back, voice dropping. “Point is, you were jealous.”

She scoffs. “I am not the jealous one in this relationship. That title belongs to you.”

I don’t need to argue. My silence is its own quiet denial.

She leans in. “So, if I were to walk up to an attractive man right now, and flirt, you wouldn’t react?” I don’t reply. “Care to wager on it?”

I raise an eyebrow. “As in a bet?”

“Yup.” She drains the rest of her wine. “If I go and flirt with a random stranger, you’ll blow your lid.” I don’t bite. “If I get him to walk away with me, you’ll be murderous,” she says with a sultry voice.

“Pass,” I murmur and drag a finger down the length of her arm.

“Why, because you know you’ll lose?”

“You are overly confident in your seduction skills,” I murmur, tugging her close.

“Are you saying I don’t have any game?”

I smile. “I’m saying you scare men off too easily.”

Her gasp is affronted, but before she can sass me, I trail kisses down her neck, and she leans into it. My fingers brush along the swell of her breasts.

“You better quit it,” she breathes. “You can see everything through silk. Including a wet spot if you don’t cool it.”

I chuckle. “Is that why you’re wearing panties tonight?” My thumb rubs over her hardened nipple.

“Yes,” she says through a small giggle. “Now, stop trying to change the subject. The bet.”

“What bet?” I feign ignorance only to mess with her.

She clucks her tongue. “Blackwell,” she warns, only half serious.

I sigh, conceding like I often do with her. “Fine. If I win, you dance with me.”

She looks at me like I’m delusional. “Seriously? That’s your big prize? A dance?”

“Not everything has to end with blood or orgasms, Sinclair.” I sip my drink, eyes watching hers amorously. “And you?”

Those enchanting eyes of hers roll once again. “If I win, it’s a surprise.” She grins proudly.

“Alright, joon-kharash . Do your worst.”

She leans all the way in and then uses her tongue to give me a good, wet swipe up the middle of my face. I chuckle, but the moment she struts away, hips swaying, locking eyes with a tall, unsuspecting man near the bar, I know I’m fucked.

The man who looks like he should be guarding the door, not sipping champagne, looks unsure. I watch, bemused, confident in her reputation’s ability to deter any advances. She’s notorious. No man in their right mind would entertain the idea of Sinclair. No matter how gorgeous and sexy she is.

But then the man relaxes and smiles at her. He leans in closer, and she touches his arm. I sit up straighter and finish my drink. The amusement in all this disintegrates.

When he offers her his arm and she takes it, the air around me drops ten degrees. I’m on my feet as they walk off together.

With the world narrowed to a singular focus, I follow them inside, my steps purposeful as my blood pulses with a surge of rage.

I find them in the hallway, and I don’t wait. Spinning him by the shoulder, I slam him against the wall. He recognizes me instantly and is wise enough not to fight me.

“I’m so sorry, sir. She said that you wanted me to escort her to the ladies’ room,” he stammers.

“And snitches get stitches,” Sinclair mutters from behind me.

“Fuck off,” I seethe, shoving the guy away.

He runs like the devil is on his heels, but my focus is back on the she-devil. I pull her by the hips and cage her against the wall as my temper begins to simmer. “You cheated.”

Her eyes widen. “How did I cheat?”

My eyes narrow. “You know how.”

“The bet was that I could get a man to flirt with me, even leave with me, and you would lose it. And you did. So, I win.” She grins, her eyes gleaming.

“He thought he was escorting you to the restroom.”

“And yet you still freaked the fuck out,” she teases. “How about this?” She hangs her arms over my shoulders casually. “We both win.”

I break my resolve and let my lips curl slightly at the corners, showing my surrender. Her flippancy is sometimes contagious. “My reward first.”

She sighs dramatically. “Let’s get this over with,” she utters under her breath.

I take her by the hand and lead her back out to the dance floor just as the next slow song begins. I pick a spot with a good enough clearing and pull her in close. My hand pressing into the curve of her back, and keeping her hand in mine.

“So,” she says, her eyes glancing around. “Why this?”

I take my time answering her. “Think of it as exposure therapy.”

She looks up at me, eyebrows lowered. “Exposure therapy?”

My arm snakes around her waist to bring her in closer. I brush my lips along the shell of her ear and whisper, “One day, things like this won’t make you uncomfortable. You’ll realize this is real.”

I feel her breath slightly hitch. Her body freezes for a moment before she tucks her head and hides her face into my shoulder. And I let her.

As the song ends, she looks up at me, eyes wide and searching. My lips find purchase with her ear again. “I love you,” I murmur against it. It’s something I’ve said only a handful of times to her. Each time, I mean every word of it.

I lean away to watch her reaction. She blinks, then she masks it with her usual smirk. But I caught it. “Kay, my turn.”

This time, she takes my hand and leads the way. Bringing us around the venue’s building to a darkened pool. The only lights are those in the distance and the moon.

She drops my hand and kicks her shoes off. “What are you doing?” She gives me that hellish grin of hers right before she slips her dress off, leaving her stark naked. “Clair,” I warn.

“Blackwell,” she says in a mocking tone.

“Clair,” I say her name sharply when she leaps into the air and makes a splash in the water.

Her head surfaces. “Get in here.”

“Pass.” I shove my hands in my pockets.

“Um, excuse me. We had a deal.” She lowers her head into the water up to her nose, then pops up again to try and spit water at me and fails. “Chicken shit.”

Because I’m not one to break a vow, I begin to strip. I neatly lay out my clothes and pick up her crumpled, silk gown off the ground to do the same with hers.

Then, I do something wholly uncharacteristic. Two long strides, one reckless leap, and I’m crashing into the water, sending a wave over her head. I pop up to the surface grinning, sending her into a boisterous laugh. Loud and true.

We tread water, drawing ourselves in closer. Then her face turns serious. Almost, fear-struck. “I won’t ever be what you want me to be,” she blurts out.

I frown. “And what is it you think I want you to be?”

“Normal.”

I snort. “What the fuck makes you think I want normal?”

What the fuck is normal anyways?

She sighs, getting frustrated with me already.

“Maybe not normal, but…I’m fucked in the head, Blackwell.

All kinds of fucked up.” My lips thin, and I don’t know whether to laugh or fucking shake her.

“I’m never going to let my guard down because it’s not even about being guarded at this point.

It’s just me! Guarded. Jaded. Chip on my shoulder. Pessimist. Cynical—”

“Defiant. Stubborn. Rebellious. Devious. Batshit fucking crazy,” I add, partly to lighten the mood.

She gives me that dry look that means she’s about to reach for her knife.

“I’m serious.” She pauses, digging for the strength to continue.

“For a moment, I thought maybe, just maybe , I could give you a sliver of my trust. But you killed it. It’s gone, and it’s never coming back.

” Her chin is trembling by the time she’s finished.

I diminish the gap between us, sneaking my arms around her waist to adhere her body to mine.

“I’m sorry, Sinclair.” She bites down on her bottom lip.

Knowing that if she dares to speak, she might fall apart.

“I’m sorry for not telling you about what was going on.

For not telling you right away that it was never a question.

” I admitted to her that I was in the wrong, but I had never said the words, ‘I’m sorry’.

“There was never a chance in fucking hell I would ever let anyone touch one hair on your beautiful head. And that you are the one I am going to marry, no matter what I lose or gain from it. I’m so fucking sorry, jāné del-am . ” The life of my heart.

Her glistening eyes come to a boiling point. A tear falls. Then another and another. Spilling over silently.

“I fucked up, yes. I’ll fuck up again. And so will you.

You’ll continue to be irascible and difficult.

Because I’m not asking you to be someone else.

But I in no way lied to you. I did not betray you.

I kept it from you because it was not an option.

And I didn’t want it to hurt you.” Her nostrils flare.

“Clair.” I drop my forehead to hers, and she closes her eyes.

“Your family treated you less than dirt. Made you feel worthless and disposable. I didn’t—” My words are deep, and my voice is raw.

She slowly opens her eyes. “I fucking hated that for you. I couldn’t allow you ever to feel that way again.

No one gets to make you feel that way ever fucking again. ” My teeth clench with rising anger.

“Do you understand me?” I grip her jaw. “No one gets to treat you like anything less than royalty. Than sacred. Than untouchable.” My grip tightens. “Anyone who dares to will be dead on sight. Do you understand?”

She blinks, not to bury the tears, but to break through them. Not to avoid the ache, but to walk straight into it. For once, she lets herself feel the sting. Lets the tears rise, hover, then pass. Not denied. Not hidden. Just released.

Then she nods. Slow, steady, fierce. Like she’s choosing herself for the first time. She blinks away the last of her tears. Not in retreat. But in resurrection.

Our lips collide. If I could kiss away all her scarring memories and take them as my own, I would. Kiss away every scar, from the inside out, I would. But I can’t change the past. All I can do is give her a better future. One that can help her move on from the darkness that was once her life.

Her legs circle my waist on reflex, and I spin us to pin her against the side of the pool. She begins grinding, her pussy warm against my torso. My cock is aching for her, but right now, this is all about her. I would deny myself anything to put her first.

Always.

I break the kiss to lift her out of the water, propping her on the concrete edge. She stares down at me with desire weighing her eyelids down. She curls her nails into my shoulders before releasing them.

Keeping our eyes locked, I part her knees and drape her legs over my shoulders. I watch her eyes spark, brimming with hunger, as I brush my lips over the silkiest part of her body.

Dropping my jaw, I flatten my tongue and swipe upwards, savoring her. “The tastiest fucking cunt, joon-kharash .”

Her breath hitches, and the fire in her eyes burns. I know if I don’t put her out of her misery, and soon, she’ll snap. Part of me would love to push her to unleash the beast in her, but again, this isn’t for me and my desires.

Inhaling her pussy into my mouth, her hand dives into my hair, her nails scraping my scalp. She snaps her head back and moans without shame into the darkened sky as I eat her pussy until she’s quivering.