6

Sondra

I take a shower and exit the bathroom, unsurprised to find Dean lurking just outside it, ostensibly in the kitchen. I haven’t figured out how to tell Corey I think her boyfriend’s a lecherous, no-good cheating asshole. I don’t have any proof—just the way he looks at me, and seems way more interested in talking to me or hanging out when we’re alone.

Considering I’m a magnet for cheating boyfriends, I know the vibe.

I usually make it a habit not to be around when Dean is at the townhouse without Corey, but Tacone’s guy drove me home too quickly. I try to make the best of it. “Hey, Dean. You feel like driving me to the grocery store? I got paid today.” For getting strip searched.

This time when the memory of Mr. Tacone’s—Nico’s—large hot hands roaming over my body flashed back, the fear is gone. A brief fantasy flickers in my mind—him peeling my panties down my legs for a different reason...

You know how much a guy like me would spend for a night with a girl like you?

Five thousand dollars!

Stop thinking about him!

I need to forget Nico Tacone is exactly the kind of man who makes my toes curl. Dark. Dangerous. Unpredictable. The ultimate bad boy.

Yes, I’m in danger of falling to the dark side again. Big time.

I need to stay strong.

Corey’s boyfriend sighs and rolls his eyes—apparently it’s a huge inconvenience to give me a ride to the store. He’s been generally insinuating how much I owe them since the day I showed up. “Yeah, okay, I’ll take you.” He’s probably just disappointed we aren’t going to be alone together at the townhouse.

I don’t care about Lame-o’s reaction to having me crash at their place. Corey and I are practically sisters. We grew up in small-town Michigan, cousins living across the street from each other. Her dad’s in law enforcement and he was an abusive asshole before he walked out on her mom, so she spent most of her time at my place.

But a guy has never come between us before, and Dean seems like the type of guy to create any number of dramas. I need to get out of here before things get even more awkward. Yet another reason to go to work tomorrow.

Sondra

“What in the hell happened yesterday?” My boss, Marissa, demands the minute I show up in the housekeeping area.

I try to keep my face blank. I don’t know how much she knows, but I sure as hell don’t want the whole staff hearing I got stripped down to my panties in Mr. Tacone’s bathroom. Or that he paid me six hundred cash for it. Or that two dozen peach roses arrived for me at Corey’s townhouse last night.

I’ve never been given two dozen roses in my life. I gave half of them to Corey, who dragged me into her bedroom to tell her what happened in private. Corey found the story insane and declared Tacone has a thing for me.

I lift my eyes to my supervisor’s. “What happened with your son?” I attempt to redirect the conversation.

She isn’t having it. She waves her hand with impatience. “Concussion. He fell backward onto concrete in the schoolyard. What happened with you?”

My face heats. I open my mouth but I’m not really sure how to answer. “What did you hear?”

Irritation flashes across her face. “Well, first Samuel called to say I was fired for allowing you up there. Then he called back to say no, actually, he heard from Nico Tacone himself and everything was fine. So fine, in fact, Tacone requested you be the regular penthouse cleaning person. Which pays double what you’re making now.” She folds her arms across her chest. “So what happened?”

Wait...what? My heart takes off running ahead of me. He wants me to be his regular cleaning person? That would mean seeing him again—face to face. The man who humiliated me and ogled my naked body. Who’s seen me crying. And wet. No. I can’t.

But double the pay…that would definitely get me out of Corey’s place faster. Out of Vegas, if that’s what I decide.

Marissa stands there, eyebrows raised, waiting for an explanation. I opt for a partial truth. “While I was cleaning Nico Tacone’s room, he returned and freaked out because he didn’t know me. I mean freaked out. He held a gun to my head.”

Marissa slaps a hand over her mouth and her eyes get wide.

“I seriously thought I was going to die.”

Sympathy washes over her features. “Oh my God, Sondra, I’m so sorry. I never should have left you there alone.”

I shrug. “It ended up okay. Once he checked out my story, I think he felt bad about scaring the shit out of me.” Or pee, as the case may be. “He sent me home in a limo with his driver.”

Marissa lets out a surprised gust of laughter. “No. Way.”

I nod. “True story.”

“Well, it probably doesn’t hurt that you’re young and beautiful. I’m sure if it were me, I’d have been fired on the spot.”

“You’re young and beautiful.”

She smiles. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

I try not to let her words feed the stupid thrill already buzzing beneath all my more sane thoughts. Is Nico taken by me? I shouldn’t hope so. Surely my better sense will kick in soon. Except I didn’t slept last night. I had my fingers between my legs, fantasizing about what it would’ve been like if Nico Tacone turned me to face the counter in his bathroom and plunged his authoritative cock inside me until I screamed.

Suddenly Marissa’s brows slam back down. “Do you feel safe?” she demands. “Because I’m not going to send a vulnerable young woman in there to get molested. Was that the vibe you got from him?”

Was it? No. Not really. Other than the almost kissing me part. And sending me roses. But molested is a strong word. I didn’t feel that vulnerable. Yes, he terrified me, but he also fascinated. He actually took care of me in a weird way—shoving me in that shower to clean up and drying me off. And taking off my soaked panties.

But do I feel safe?

No.

Is that half the appeal? Corey would say yes. Because I possess some aberrant thrill-seeking gene when it comes to men.

“Yeah, he’s okay. I don’t get a creepy vibe from him,” I mutter, stacking my cart with supplies.

“Are you sure? Because if you’re still too shaken up, I’m not afraid to tell them. They’ve got a human resource nightmare waiting to happen with you.”

Somehow I doubt the Tacone family gives a shit about human resource problems. They probably have their own special way of dealing with problems that don’t involve lawsuits or payouts. Unless you count the payout Nico gave me yesterday of six hundred crisp ones.

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, here’s your new keycard. You’re in charge of the three suites on the top floor and nothing else, according to Mr. Tacone.”

“That won’t take all day, though. What do I do when I’m done?”

“You get to go home.”

Oh—so I’m really not getting a raise. Well, I’ll be working fewer hours for the same amount of money, so it’s an improvement. But it doesn’t get me out of Corey’s house any sooner. Still, I’m not complaining. It will give me time to apply for teaching positions.

I take my cart and the new keycard she gives me into the elevator. On the top floor, I clean the other two suites first. They both have two bedrooms. I wonder who they belong to—Nico’s brothers? Cousins? I wish I knew more about the operation here. When I first applied at the Bellissimo and Corey told me it was mafia run, I Googled it, but nothing came up. Zero. Not that I’m surprised. If Nico Tacone assumes a new maid is bugging his place, then he’s either paranoid, or he has some serious secrets to keep hidden. The second thought sends a shiver running up my spine.

Curiosity killed the cat, Sondra. Yeah. Too bad the attraction to the wrong sort of men never fades for me.

After I finish with the other two suites, I knock on Nico’s door. I have to admit, my heart beats faster as I stand there listening for an answer. I’m both thrilled and quaking at the idea of seeing him again.

I use the keycard and enter. I hear his voice first, then catch sight of him pacing out on his balcony, talking—actually, yelling—into his phone. His head jerks up and eyes lock on me with the same dark intensity they wore yesterday. He says something more into the phone and then drops it into his pocket, never taking his gaze from me.

I push the cart into the center of the room, hoping I’m hiding how much he unnerves me.

He slides open the glass door from the balcony and stalks toward me. “You came back.”

Does he sound pleased, or am I imagining it?

“Yeah,” I mumble and make a big show out of pulling supplies from the cart.

“I wasn’t sure you would.”

I turn around and yelp to find him right in front of me, the heat of his body radiating into mine.

Oh lord, he’s still beautiful. Chocolate brown eyes with long dark, curling lashes—the kind a woman would kill for. Olive skin. His square jaw sports a five-o’clock shadow. The bags under his eyes are still there, but not quite as pronounced today. His periwinkle blue button-down gapes at the collar, revealing a light dusting of dark curls.

I run my tongue over my lips to moisten them and his eyes follow the movement. “Are you going to strip search me again?”

His lips kick up at the corners and suddenly I find myself crowded against the cart. He’s not quite touching me, but it wouldn’t take much to bring our bodies flush with each other. “Do you want me to?”

Yes.

“No, thanks, I’m good.” I swallow, heat pooling between my legs, my core quivering. His lips are just inches away. I can smell his breath—minty and fresh. “Did you sleep last night?”

He arches a brow—yes, just one. It’s movie star sexy. “Are you asking after my well-being, bambina? After what I did to you yesterday?”

My face grows warm at the reminder and I shrug.