Marrying the Mob Prince

INDIE

Knox was not my savior. This dark knight intended to punish me.

He seized my jaw, and I shuddered from a swell of unexpected heat. His biting grip forced my attention up his broad chest to the fabric obscuring most of his face. Pure malice shone through the eyeholes. He grabbed the elastic and flung the mask off, unveiling his red-faced fury.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Me?” I flinched, startled by his harsh tone. “What about you?”

“I have a membership.”

“So it’s okay for you to come here, but not me?”

“Do you want to be responsible for that man’s death? I could kill him just for looking at you. What do you think I’d do if he’d fucked you?”

My jaw dropped.

It’d been a couple of months since the yacht party. I hadn’t seen him, other than in paparazzi photos with yet another leggy model, which annoyed me. Even though I figured he would have moved on. Men like Knox had the attention span of a gnat.

I had no idea I was still on his radar.

“Knox. I don’t owe you anything. I don’t belong to you.”

“Not yet.” His deep voice simmered with barely restrained passion.

I studied his fiery presence, the rapid rising and falling of his chest, the mad glint of his stare. This wasn’t the cool, collected CEO I’d met at The Spheres.

“Why are you acting like a jealous lover?” I demanded, more to cover my nerves than anything. “We’ve never kissed. We haven’t so much as held hands. Heck, we haven’t even gone on a date!”

“I don’t tolerate other men touching what’s rightfully mine.”

Shock wedged the lump in my throat. I hadn’t seen this guy in months. He had me convinced he’d forgotten me. Where the hell did he get off acting possessive?

I raised my chin, meeting his glare. I would not bend for Knox. I was the only person in his life holding him accountable. He was so self-absorbed. He couldn’t fathom a woman who didn’t want him. He never failed to get his way, and it infuriated him that he couldn’t win me over.

“Buddy, if a woman’s rejection is enough to destroy your pride, perhaps you had none to begin with.”

“Says the girl who signed up to be gangbanged.”

“Nice.” My cheeks blistered as that landed just as harshly as he’d intended. “Always a class act, Knox.”

“What am I supposed to think?” Knox’s muscled arm lifted as he raked his brown locks, a cruel smile twisting his mouth. “You don’t want me, but you’ll let randos at Sanctum fuck you?”

“It has nothing to do with you.”

“You’re making a mistake. They’ll eat you alive.” His gaze riveted on my body before centering on my face. “Although the collar suits you very well.”

The sight of it seemed to both turn him on and enrage him…probably because another man had gotten the privilege of putting it on me. A smirk curled his perfect lips as he yanked the ring on my collar, pulling me closer until a breath stopped us from kissing.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

“Knox.”

“Don’t expect me to behave when you show up naked in a place that’s very much my style,” he said in a mocking drawl. “Am I going to read about my deviant lifestyle in one of your columns?”

I sighed. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Why not? Your readers would have a field day.”

“Because I’d never violate your boundaries like that.”

Bryan Knox’s kinky sex life was the stuff of gossip blogs, but I couldn’t bring myself to participate in celebrity worship culture. I never wanted to be a tabloid journalist.

“And yet, you violate yours to benefit me. You edited my quotes to make me look better.” Knox stared at me, his head tilted to the side. “That surprised me.”

“And you’re predictably cruel.”

“Then why help me? Why defend the most hated man in Boston?”

He was fishing for a confession, but I could never tell him the truth. He seemed to be the poster child of “hurt people hurt people,” and writing him off as a soulless tyrant wasn’t right. Staring into his guarded eyes always took away my desire for vengeance. The pain in them moved me.

He disturbed me.

But I couldn’t hate him.

And I would not drag him through the mud like everyone else. I couldn’t build a career off his name. No way I’d ever owe Bryan Knox a damned thing.

“I don’t know. I take no pleasure in hurting others.”

“Even the man who threatened your job? That’s a rare quality in a person, Indie. Though I’m not sure if it’s a gift.”

“Why would it be bad?”

“Because it makes you a magnet for predators.”

“Are you speaking for yourself?”

“I don’t prey on women, Indie. They come crawling to me. You will, too.”

Heat came off him in waves. I stepped away from the furnace, but he dragged me closer. I cleared my throat, pretending not to be affected. He was too close. His suit rubbed my nipples into aching points, and I couldn’t disguise how his touch hypnotized me. Everything about Knox felt good. His hand on my hip. His steel arms. His hot skin.

I’d tried to dismiss our connection. He’d made me feel special, and the glow of his flattering interest stayed in my chest for weeks. And here he was. Saving me. Looking at him made my heart hammer foolishly. Touching him sparked a fierce ache in my chest.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“Lucky coincidence.” He cupped my chin, and unbidden warmth soared into my chest. “In our time apart, have you thought of me?”

Of course I had.

I couldn’t go anywhere without being reminded of him. His handsome face glared from tabloids. Construction boards announced his developments throughout North Dorchester. Op-eds attacked him for exploiting Boston’s most vulnerable citizens for profit. Even though I avoided the internet and had blocked his number, he dropped in my head constantly.

I pictured going home with him in a montage of sensations and images-my hand sliding over his naked, muscular back, our mouths sealed against one another as we stumbled into bed. I licked my lips, unable to stop the ripple of excitement from shivering up my leg.

“I should go.”

“That’s an excellent idea.”

“Can I wear your jacket so I can at least leave with some dignity intact?”

He didn’t react, but the arm around my waist tightened. “Ask me properly.”

“Please give me your jacket.”

“You forgot something at the end of your sentence.”

“Please give me your goddamn jacket.”

His cold eyes sniped at me. “It’s an effort not to pull you over my knee, spank you, and taste your glistening pussy.”

“Sir, I need your coat. Please.”

Without tearing his gaze from me, he rolled the coat off his muscled shoulders and offered it to me. I took it and put it on.

“Thank you, Knox.”

His mouth parted slightly. His deep blues searched me, the most brilliant swirls of aquamarine, navy, and teal morphing into suspicion.

“Don’t ever come here again.”