Brock
A few moments after Brock withdrew from Maggie and collapsed on the floor next to her, his cellphone blipped. He groaned, pulling himself up again. “Well, that was some perfect timing, huh?”
He checked the screen, and saw the text from Crack: “They're here.”
“Looks like we'd better pull ourselves together and head down there,” he said. Maggie nodded briskly, reaching for her panties and pulling them back on.
As Brock buckled his belt and zipped up his pants, he found himself trapped in the moment of crystalline clarity and reason that most men experienced in the ten or fifteen seconds immediately following an orgasm. He'd assured Robby he wouldn't fall back into his old habits and endanger the con by fucking this girl, so why had he?
He tried to tell himself it was no big deal—it was a familiar weakness of his, he'd indulged it many times before even when he shouldn't have, and most of the time, he'd managed to get away unscathed.
Well, maybe not “most of the time.” But at least half, right? Maybe even a little more?
Still, it irked him. He'd gone into this scam genuinely determined not to let his libido put him at risk. These weren't just clueless tourists or blustering businessmen they were targeting here—they were dangerous gangsters, and the punishment for blowing this score would be severe. So what made Maggie so disarming that he'd succumbed to his lust almost instantly?
For starters, he had to admit she was astonishingly beautiful. Her dark hair, her brown doe eyes, her swan-like neck and delicate frame. He'd expected her to be charmed and impressed by him during the date and the “rescue” from the Saints—that was part of the con, after all—but he hadn't expected to be so damn captivated by the sincerity and desire in her eyes when she looked at him.
Maggie smiled at him as she fixed her dress. “You're staring.”
“Sorry about that,” Brock said, returning her smile. “It's hard not to.”
“I, um, hope I wasn't too forward tonight. I mean, I never do this kind of thing, you know? Seriously, never. I don't know what came over me.”
“Adrenaline's a funny thing sometimes,” he reassured her. “No need to overthink it.”
“And earlier tonight, you said you were already distracted...”
“I guess you distracted me from my distraction,” he replied smoothly, giving her a quick kiss. The feeling of her soft lips against his was tantalizing, and he wanted to linger, but he forced himself to pull back instead. It was better to leave her wanting more. “Come on, let's go down there before they start to worry about us. Everyone's probably already on edge.”
As they left the room and headed for the elevator, she asked, “So what is going on with your father?”
“It's complicated,” Brock said, hitting the button for the lobby. “And I'm not really supposed to go around talking about it.”
“I'm not really 'supposed' to go jumping into bed with men I just met, either,” Maggie prodded with a grin.
“I don't remember a bed being involved, but you've got a point. Tell you what—I'll give you the whole story next time we see each other. Sound good?”
“And when's that going to be?” she asked as the elevator doors opened.
Before Brock could answer, a cadre of six stone-faced gangsters came forward to greet them, led by Adamo.
“He's still got you running around tonight?” Brock asked Adamo. “Jesus, I figured after everything you've been through, you'd be sitting somewhere quiet and nursing a drink or three by now.”
“Nothing is more important than ensuring Margherita is delivered to her father safely,” Adamo rasped. “Don Ricci wants me to thank you again for your quick thinking earlier, and for protecting his most prized possession.”
Brock felt Maggie stiffen next to him at being called a “possession.” He couldn't blame her. It reminded him of something from his own life, but he couldn't quite place it.
“Come along, Margherita,” Adamo said, taking her by the arm gently. “It's time to go home.”
As Adamo led her away, Maggie called to Brock over her shoulder. “Even with everything that happened, I still feel like I should thank you for a lovely evening, ha!”
Brock smiled. For a pampered rich girl, she sure had some balls on her.
“Likewise, I'm sure,” he called back.
Once Maggie and the gangsters were gone, Brock turned to Crack, who stood near the check-in desk. “So! All in all, I'd say things are going well so far. I guess we should go to The Clear View and meet up with the guys, huh?”
Crack raised his eyebrows and followed Brock out the door.