Page 49
The last dress slips over my body like soft sand. The skirt is angled in a deep slash, the left end stopping inches from my hip. Straps fall off my shoulders, bare wisps of fabric. The ebony color is rich, silken, dangerous. A small breeze will show everyone what’s underneath.
It’s perfect.
Smirking, I slip out my phone and bite my thumb. Do I dare? It’s stupid to text my stalker—a man who tried to kill my brother. He’s obviously not a good man. Who knows what he’d do to me?
My body shivers. There are things I want him to do, though. Things that would make my pious guard blush. I’ve been craving his touch for months. What’s the harm in teasing?
I send the text before second-guessing.
Want to see?
The answer is immediate.
Stalker: Fuck yes.
Lifting my leg, I make sure the angle shows off how short this skirt it. My hand clenches the fabric, and I pull the top down. A line of my cleavage flirts in the dim lighting, and the barest hint of my white panties peeks from the corner.
I snap the photo and send it. It’s the most seductive picture I’ve ever taken—and I sent it to a stranger. Well, I wanted to be more daring, no?
Stalker: I want to lick every inch of you.
My cheeks redden, and I grin down at the screen.
No one has ever said that before.
Stalker: Show me more.
More? What can—
Oh.
Glancing over my shoulder at the locked door, I weigh the options for three seconds before I shrug. Fuck it. Might as well go down for doing something fun.
Positioning the phone, I lift my skirt and hook my finger into my panties. I pull the smallest bit and snap a photo.
His response to that heats my blood.
Stalker: Mother of God, Sunshine. You’re killing me.
Stalker: Where are you?
I snort.
Come find me.
He’s the stalker—this should be easy for him. I close the screen and quickly change. If his response indicates anything, this is the dress. At the register, I hand Ello my purchase as another associate greets an incoming customer.
“Mrs. De Luca! How lovely to see you again.”
Ello and I both freeze. De Luca? The wife of the capo? Shit.
Bruno and De Luca have had an uneasy rivalry, but a friendly truce. We don’t enter each other’s territories, and we keep to our business. De Luca runs drugs, and Bruno runs girls.
That all changed with O’Brien. The old captain quietly stayed out of both the old families, running guns for big players. After he died, his daughter, Maeve, took over command and turned the city upside down. Her first order of business was marrying her sister to the then-heir, Alessio De Luca. It combined two deadly families into one and put Bruno in the minority.
It doesn’t help that my brother has hated Maeve his entire life. He constantly complains about her interference in our business. I suspect Roman might have liked Maeve at one point—but when he realized she couldn’t be controlled; he went on the offensive. Stronzo.
Glancing over my shoulder, a vibrant woman sashays into the boutique. Her bright red locks are pinned in a messy bun, and the pink sundress hugs her wide curves. On her shoulder is a large black rose, etched into her alabaster skin, a symbol of her loyalty to the De Luca name.
