The Billionaire Mafia (5 book series), chapter three

RORY Later that evening, I take an Uber to the opposite side of the city, as far away from my neighborhood as possible and get out. It’s dark and I’m not exactly sure where I am, but it should be far enough away that I don’t see anyone I know and vice versa. Standing beneath a streetlight, I glance around and spot a few bars and restaurants on the block.

It’s ironic that I’m drawn to the corner pub because it clearly has an Irish theme. It’s perfect, I think. Just another way to tell my dad and Dante to shove it.

Go mingle with the enemy. Although it’s not exactly the Irish they hate. It’s the O’Shea family.

Before I lose my nerve, I cross the street and walk into the bar. It’s packed, the music is loud and the crowd is a little older than me. Clutching my purse a little tighter, I make my way through the mingling people who are laughing, chatting and hanging out together.

I’ve never had a large group of friends before, only a couple of close ones at school, and I suddenly feel very intimidated. Trying not to get overwhelmed, forcing myself to sit down on a bar stool and not turn and run back out the front door, I let out a breath and stare down at the menu. I couldn’t eat a bite, I’m so damn nervous.

Alcohol, on the other hand, will be a welcome part of this evening’s festivities. “What can I get you?” the bartender asks.

He’s wiping the counter down and looks to be in his early thirties. Kind of cute with brown hair and green eyes. Maybe a possibility, I think, jotting him down on my mental scorecard.

What I’m doing is so ridiculous, but I absolutely can’t chicken out. The alternative is Dante Rivera and that can’t happen. I refuse to let it.

Instead of my usual glass of wine, I decide to switch things up. “How about a Guinness?”

I say. Hopefully the alcohol content is high because I need something to help me relax. With a nod, he grabs a chilled glass, fills it to the top then sets it in front of me.

“Would you like to start a tab?”

I nod and pull my credit card out, handing it over. He isn’t paying any extra attention to me and I think I’m going to have to find someone else to seduce. Mr. Bartender isn’t interested.

Turning slightly, I lift the pint and take a small sip of the frothy beer. I’m not a big beer drinker and I’ve never had this particular one before. Ooh.

The malty sweetness takes me by surprise. I can detect notes of coffee and chocolate, and I take another drink. It’s smooth, creamy and balanced.

I decide that I’m a fan and hold the glass in my hands, gaze moving over the crowded bar. Now what? I wonder.

Do I just pick a cute guy and hit on him? Ugh. I’ve never done anything like this in my life and it isn’t easy.

What’s the worst that can happen? I ask myself. If he isn’t interested, I move on to another mark.

Er, I mean, potential one night stand. I feel like one of those people who just got paid and now their money is burning a hole in their pocket. Except it’s my virginity that’s burning a hole in my pocket.

I can’t wait to give it to someone more deserving than Dante. There has to be a man in here who I’m attracted to and would make a good partner. My gaze wanders from table to table and over all the different groups standing together.

A lot of the men seem to be with women and that’s not good for me. Where are all the single men? I wonder and take another sip of my beer.

“Hi,” a voice says near my ear and I practically jump out of my seat.

Glancing over, I see a guy grinning at me. He has dark red hair, brown eyes that are having a little trouble focusing and my gaze is immediately drawn to the wet spot on his shirt where it looks like he spilled a drink. When he wobbles slightly and grabs the back of my chair, I realize he’s drunk.

Yeah, I may be here looking to pick up a guy, but not one who is so drunk he can barely stand and smells like a brewery. My luck, he wouldn’t be able to get up, anyway. “Hi,”

I murmur, trying not to be overly-friendly or encouraging. “Let me get ‘ya anutha drink,” he slurs, and leans over me, trying to flag down the bartender.

He bumps into me and I grab my glass which nearly spills over. “It’s okay,”

I say and steady the glass. Beer spills over the edge and my fingers get wet. “I’m still drinking this one. But thanks.”

“Well, ‘ya can’t have too many drinks now can ‘ya?” he insists, still trying to get the bartender’s attention.

In your case, yes. I roll my eyes, trying not to be annoyed, but he’s way too drunk to deal with. I hate being rude, but he probably will wake up tomorrow and not even remember this encounter.

“I’m actually waiting for someone,”

I lie and push him over a little with my shoulder. I hate people getting all up into my personal space and this guy is starting to get on my last nerve. “Why don’t I wait with you, darlin’?” he says with a wink.

I notice that the bartender is staying at the other side of the bar, clearly ignoring this drunken fool, and I don’t blame him. “What an asshole,” the guy slurs.

Then he throws an arm over my shoulders and asks, “Do you wanna get outta here? Go to another bar?”

“No,”

I grit out and try to shrug his arm off. But he tightens it, fingers digging into my shoulder, and pulls me closer. “Stop! Let go.”

As I try to pull away, a deep voice interrupts us. “Sorry to keep you waiting, a ghrá.”

A big, muscular arm pushes his way in between me and the drunk guy, then a large, firm body follows. I look up into the brightest cobalt blue eyes I’ve ever seen and my stomach somersaults. Oh, my goodness.

After the attractive stranger plants himself next to me, he gives the drunk an icy look that has him backing off and quickly scurrying away. I release a relieved breath and murmur, “Thanks. He was getting way too pushy.”

“I noticed,” the man says dryly.

Turning, he leans an elbow on the bar and the corner of his mouth edges up. “Glad I could help.”

He has a nice mouth and lips that aren’t too thin or full. They’re just right. His nose is straight and even, cheekbones high and he possesses a pair of thick, dark brows over those stop-you-in-your-tracks blue eyes.

With his black hair, it’s a truly stunning combination and my pulse picks up. I think I found the man I’d like to go to bed with, but just the thought has my nerves skittering all over the place. He probably already has a girlfriend or wife— My gaze dips to his left hand and there’s no wedding ring.

I immediately notice his shortened pinky finger and I wonder what happened. He’s too beautiful, but that one flaw makes him seem more human. More relatable.

We all have had accidents and bad things happen to us, and I know there’s a story there. But now isn’t the time to ask, especially when he must notice me looking because he slides his hand out of my view. Idiot, I scold myself.

The last thing I want is for him to feel self-conscious. Knowing I need to be bold, refusing to let him slip away, I lean closer and ask, “Can I buy you a drink?”

The gorgeous grin returns. “Now that’s a welcome change. Normally, I’m the one who asks the beautiful woman if I can buy her a drink.”

My face flushes and I nervously tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Can I?” he continues, voice low and filled with a huskiness that makes my heart pound harder.

Our gazes lock and a zap of electricity moves between us. I know he must feel it, too, because his blue eyes darken. “Sure,”

I whisper, finally finding my voice. Dio mio. I’m ready to rip my clothes off right now, lay down on the bar and offer myself up as a virgin sacrifice to him.

I’ve never felt such an instant and all-consuming attraction to anyone like this before. And I don’t even know his name. “Why don’t we order some food, too,” he suggests, reaching for a menu.

“Suddenly, I’m ravenous.”

The heated look he gives me makes me swallow hard. I’m beginning to overheat and could definitely use another ice-cold, frothy beer, too. As we peruse the food choices, the bartender makes his way back over.

“Can we get two more pints of Guinness?”

Blue Eyes asks. “And what did you want to eat?”

Thank goodness I’m already sitting or I would’ve swooned. This man is far too handsome and I’m not sure if I’m brave enough to seduce him. But, damn, I’m going to give it a try.

It’s mostly an array of Irish bar food and I’ve never really had any of it before, so I’m not sure. My family sticks with classic Italian meals and when I go out I tend to eat salads or, if I’m going to splurge, a burger or pizza. “What do you recommend?”

I ask. “This is my first time here.”

He arches a dark brow. “Really? Well, then you have to try the shepherd’s pie.”

“Okay, sure.”

At this point, he could tell me to eat my napkin and I would. After he places the order and we get two fresh beers, my mysterious man guides me over to a back corner booth. A couple of people shake his hand or say hello as we pass, but I don’t think too much of it.

He must hang out here a lot. It’s a round booth and he motions for me to go ahead and then slides in after me, closing the gap between us. “You haven’t told me your name yet,” he says.

I’m about to say Aurora, but decide to go with my nickname instead. “Rory,”

I tell him. “Rory. That’s really pretty. I’m Lee.”

“It’s nice to officially meet you,”

I say and we shake hands, exchanging another smile. I can’t seem to stop smiling and my face is probably going to hurt tomorrow. That’s not the only thing that’ll be sore if tonight goes as planned, I think wickedly and innocently sip my beer.

“Wait, we need to toast,” he says.

Then he lifts his beer and, with a smirk, I do the same. “In all this world, I think there are five reasons why we drink: Good wine, good friend, or being dry, or lest we be by and by, or any other reason why!”

We click glasses and I laugh. “Did you just make that up?”

“No, I can’t take credit. It’s an old Irish toast I learned years ago.”

After taking a sip of my drink, I study him for a moment. He’s really far too attractive. More so than any man should be allowed.

“So, what do you do?”

I ask. He hesitates briefly then says, “I work with my father. Family business. What about you?”

He doesn’t give me any time to ask further questions about the family business and throws the question right back. “I’ve been studying abroad and returned a year or so ago. So I’m still trying to figure out what the future holds.”

“And what did you study?”

“Meaningless subjects,”

I instantly answer, far too honestly. My father never wanted me to actually have a profession, but he did allow me to learn. “I just mean, I think my interests changed and now I’m not sure what I want to do.”

But I definitely know who I want to do it with. Oh, yeah. An image of Blue Eyes—no, Lee—settling himself between my thighs makes my cheeks flush.

“It happens. I’ve been having some second thoughts about my career, too.”

“You have?”

All of a sudden, I get a whiff of his aftershave. Or maybe it’s his soap. I’m not sure, but he smells like a tantalizing mix of fresh grass and clean air.

Breathing a little deeper, I find myself leaning closer. “Yeah, but let’s not talk about work. Tell me about you.”

“Me? There’s not much to tell.”

“I doubt that,” he murmurs.

“I’m willing to bet you have a story that’s just as beautiful as you.”

I can feel my cheeks heat up even more. “Aren’t you the charmer?”

I tease. We’re both being a little coy with giving personal details about our lives and I find that interesting. Not alarming, just rather curious.

But then our shepherd’s pie arrives, and it’s steaming and smells absolutely delicious. He hands me a fork and we it right out of the deep pan. It’s hard to believe I just met this man because I’m so comfortable around him.

It’s almost like I know him from somewhere already, but that’s impossible. If I had met him before, I never would’ve forgotten him. “I wouldn’t really consider myself charming,”

Lee says and takes a bite. His mouth goes wide open and he waves a hand in front of it. “Damn, it’s hot. Be careful.”

He’s really too adorable and I chuckle. “You think it’s funny that I burned my mouth?” he asks teasingly and gulps down some ice-cold beer.

“No, I think it’s sweet that you wouldn’t let me burn mine.”

He scoops a small forkful of pie up, lightly blows on it until it’s cooled, and then extends it to me. “I won’t let you get burned,” he murmurs.

I reach a hand out, cupping it around his, open my mouth and eat it off his fork. Our gazes lock again and an arrow of heat sizzles straight down to my core. The act of him feeding me turns into the most erotic moment of my life.

So far, anyway. I chew the bite of food, swallow and take a much-needed sip of alcohol. I’m not sure what it is, but I feel drawn to him on so many levels.

It’s like I’m caught up in some kind of enchanted web that he’s artfully weaving and using to hold me. At this moment, there’s nowhere I’d rather be, though, and I’m thoroughly invested in seeing where this evening goes. My hopes are high.

We end up spending the next two hours talking in the dimly-lit corner booth and by 11 PM, I’ve eaten too much, drank too much and laughed more than I have in years. It occurs to me that it’s getting late and it’s probably time to go. If Lee doesn’t ask me to go home with him, I’m going to be devastated.

Guess, I’ll just have to ask him then, I think, feeling bolder than ever before. The waitress just cleared our final glasses and I look over to see Lee studying me closely. He reaches his right hand out and lays it over mine.

Tingles erupt through my body. “I haven’t connected with anyone like this in a long time,” he admits, voice low.

“Me neither,”

I say. Then he leans in and I tilt my head as his mouth descends over mine. His kiss is warm and soft.

Just a gentle whisper against mine. But then I open my mouth, granting him access, and his tongue sweeps inside, instantly setting me on fire. Responding back, meeting the glide of his tongue with mine, I savor the taste of the beer’s malty sweetness and the chocolate Irish cream pie we just ate.

Our fingers lace on the tabletop as we deepen the kiss, tasting and exploring. I’ve never been kissed like this before or so turned on by a man. When he suddenly pulls back, the loss of his mouth on mine hits me hard and a whimper escapes my throat.

We’re both breathing hard and his heated blue gaze is scorching. For a long moment, time stands still as we search each other’s gazes. “Do you want to leave?” he asks.

“Yes,”

I whisper. After we get our credit cards from the bartender and he pays for everything, ignoring my offer to help, we step outside into the warm night air. It’s July and the Midwest air has a humidness to it that matches the wetness currently happening between my thighs.

“My apartment is on the next block,” he says and when I nod, he reaches for my hand.

Our fingers lace together and it feels so damn right. Even though this man is still such a mystery to me, I’m so grateful he stepped in earlier and we met. He’s kind, a gentleman and I’m dying to get to know him better.

More intimately. I couldn’t have made a better choice and he makes me forget all of my worries. He allows me to just live in the present moment and not stress about the future.

When we arrive at his place, I’m not sure what to expect, but it’s nice. Small, but upscale and, for whatever reason, it doesn’t feel very lived in. As if he reads my thoughts, he says, “I’ve been staying with my family just outside the city, so I haven’t been here in a month or so. Sorry about the dust.”

“It’s fine.”

The place looks immaculate to me. Before I can ask about his family, he flips a lamp on and the look in his cobalt eyes reminds me of the bluest part of a flame. Hot and so very intense.

Here we go, I think, my nerves kicking up. One night stand time. Lee walks over and slides a hand through my hair.

With a soft moan, I let my head fall back and he cradles my neck, lightly squeezing. I notice that he does everything with his right hand, keeping his scarred left one out of sight as much as possible. At least, with me.

Before I can think too hard about it, he captures my mouth in a hot kiss that’s demanding and full of passion. I do my best to keep up, but he’s consuming me, and it’s all so overwhelmingly delicious. The moment he pulls me against the hard length of his body and his hands slide over my ass, I let out a soft gasp.

His mouth dips and he flicks his tongue along the shell of my ear. “Do you have any idea how glad I am that I went out tonight and met you?”

I can’t get the words out to tell him I feel the exact same way, so it comes out as a soft, needy moan instead. “I want to lose myself in you, a ghrá.”

I have no idea what that word means and right now, I don’t care. Tightening my arms around his neck, pressing into his body, I can feel his hardness and my core overheats. A desperate, unfamiliar feeling flows over me and I slide my fingers through his thick, dark hair, lightly scratching.

“Do you want that?” he rasps, nipping and licking at my throat.

I drop my head back, giving him better access, and moan softly. “Yes…please…”

Then he’s sweeping me up into his arms and carrying me down the hallway, presumably to his bedroom. A moment later, he sets me on the edge of his bed and I watch, a little dazed, as he reaches back and pulls his shirt over his head in one smooth move. My gaze drops to check out his firm, muscled chest and rippling biceps that make my mouth instantly water.

Oh, Holy Mary Mother of God. Firm pecs, washboard abs and those sexy indentations at his hips have my lips parting. I just hope no drool comes out.

I release a shaky sigh, not sure what to do. Should I take off my shirt, too? Only thing is, I’m wearing a dress and once it’s off, I’ll only be left in a lace bra and matching thong.

Pulling my lower lip into my mouth, I start to second-guess myself. What am I doing? Can I actually go through with this?

My heart is pounding so hard and the blood in my veins is hotter than magma. “I don’t know what to do,”

I blurt out. Shit. Now I feel like a complete fool.

Artless and naive. “What do you mean?” he asks, tilting his head, eyeing me closely.

“I-I wasn’t going to say anything, but…I don’t want you to think…”

My voice trails off and I squeeze my hands into fists. He steps closer, lifts my chin and forces me to look into his blazing blue eyes. “Don’t want me to think what, a ghrá?”

“What does that mean?”

I ask. “Just an Irish term of endearment. Now tell me what’s going on inside that gorgeous head of yours and what I can do to make it better?”

I swallow hard, gaze locked with his, and say, “You’re going to be…my first, ah, lover.”

He seems to freeze and he’s searching my eyes, as though looking for the truth. Then he begins breathing again and the corner of his mouth tilts up. “If you’ve chosen me for that honor, a ghrá, I’ll make sure you aren’t disappointed.”

Then he’s pulling me up off the bed, drawing me against his body, and kissing me again. This time it feels tender and careful. Like he’s easing me into what’s to come.

But I want the passion and flames again, so I run my tongue along his and bite his lip. “Don’t hold back with me,”

I tell him. He pulls back and a slow smile spreads over his face as he reaches for the hem of my shift dress and slowly begins sliding it up. My heart starts beating triple time and I lift my arms, allowing him to pull it off.

After he tosses it, I lick my lips, standing in front of him in nothing but my lacy underthings as he leisurely peruses my body. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he whispers raggedly.

Trying not to be self-conscious, I stand up straighter and look right into his eyes, saying, “I want you to fuck me.”

One of his eyebrows shoots up, but he doesn’t comment. Just begins unbuttoning his pants and then lowers the zipper. His jeans drop and he kicks them away.

My mouth instantly goes dry when I take in his huge arousal straining behind a pair of black boxer briefs. The next thing I know, he’s pushing me back on the bed and climbing over me. “I’m going to fuck you, Rory, but we’re going to take our time. Make sure it’s as good for you as it is for me, okay?”

“Okay,”

I whisper. No point in arguing with that. “I’m going to make sure you’re good and ready,” he promises and starts kissing me again.

I melt beneath him, sinking into the mattress, and savoring the feel of his lips moving against mine. His large hand curves over my breast and I arch up, filling his palm. He reaches inside the lace cup, freeing my flesh, and my nipple pebbles as his fingers circle and lightly pinch.

Then his mouth closes over the taut nipple and I smother a cry. “You don’t hold back either,” he says, licking and sucking, carefully removing my bra.

“If you want to scream then fucking scream. I want to know you like what I’m doing to you. That you’re enjoying every touch, every kiss. Tell me, Rory.”

“Yes,”

I hiss, writhing beneath him. “Good girl,” he murmurs, slowly kissing his way down my body.

The moment he presses his warm lips over the top of my thong, I freeze. I look down and he hooks his fingers into the elastic and slowly tugs them down. Lying there beneath him, completely naked, my pulse thunders.

He lowers his face and lightly blows on my core which I know is embarrassingly wet. I squeeze my eyes shut and when his tongue laps up my slit, my entire body trembles. Pushing my legs further apart, his mouth latches onto my pussy and I cry out, fingers digging into the bedspread.

“Oh, God…”

Then that wicked tongue of his begins swirling around my clit, slowly sucking it until my hips buck up off the mattress. His long finger slides inside me and I shamelessly push against his face as he continues sucking my throbbing clit. The pressure building has me gasping, trying to twist away, but he holds me firmly with his left hand, pinning my hips to the bed, working me until I’m shaking hard and crying out.

“Almost there,” he rasps between licks, finger thrusting in and out of my wet core.

“C’mon, a ghrá, come for me.”

Suddenly, I shatter, a scream tearing from my throat as the orgasm rips through me, leaving me breathless and floating in a sea of bliss. Choosing this man to be my first is officially the best decision I ever made in my life.