KARINA
I stared at the detective in front of me. I didn’t trust him. I also knew the whole story of a receipt with my credit card number being found on an armed robber last night was bullshit. My credit card wasn’t stolen. Plus, I checked my bank account, and there were no funds missing.
What I did know was this probably had everything to do with my last name being Valenti. I might not be anything more than a rich princess, daughter of a powerful and wealthy family, to most of the people here in Boston, but I wasn’t stupid.
And the way this detective was staring at me with his dark brown eyes all smoldering and confident—maybe a little too confident—I was about ninety-nine percent sure he was hoping to get some information out of me.
He placed his arms on the table. “Miss Valenti, we found a credit card receipt—”
“No, you didn’t.” I didn’t have time for bullshit.
He narrowed his dark eyes, and a smirk started at the corners of his mouth, dimples appearing just above it. If I wasn’t so annoyed that he lied to get me here, I would have taken at least ten minutes to admire him.
With a sturdy, square jawline that could possibly—easily—chisel granite, a five o’clock shadow, and a pair of full, appealing lips, Detective Stone was really easy on the eyes. And judging by the way he filled out his shirt and jeans, I was willing to bet he had the physique and muscle to back up all that confidence oozing out of him.
I hadn’t even been in the same room as this man for two minutes and I already knew his ego was bigger than fucking China.
“Miss Valenti—”
“That’s it, isn’t it? It’s my last name that has me here at two o’clock on a Friday afternoon, instead of drinking cocktails by the pool with my friends.” I might as well act like the rich princess everyone thinks I am.
That smirk was still plastered on his face as he leisurely leaned back in his chair. “I see you’re a no bullshit kind of woman.”
“I’m Italian, what do you expect?” I crossed my legs under the table and noticed him glance down at my lap while biting his lower lip as he slowly moved his gaze up my body.
“Tell me about yourself, Miss—”
“Something tells me you already know everything there is to know.” I cocked my head, letting my dark curls slip over my shoulder.
He frowned, then reached into his pants pocket and pulled out his cell phone.
I watched as he slid his finger across the screen.
“According to Facebook—”
“You have Facebook?”
He glanced up at me. “Stop interrupting me.”
“Stop antagonizing me.” I lifted a brow.
He snorted and turned his attention back to his phone. “So, according to Facebook,” he glanced at me for a split second like he was expecting me to interrupt again, but I didn’t, “Karina Valenti checked in at the Skin Spa in New York,” he turned the screen toward me, “and she checked in five minutes ago to get some ‘well-deserved pampering with my girlfriends,’” he mocked, reading my status update.
Well, shit. I did not see that one coming.
That would teach me not to use the fifteen minutes stuck in an interrogation room to update my fake Facebook page. I had a PR company doing it for me up until a few months ago. But they kept messing up by posting the biggest load of crap that clashed with some of my public appearances. Like “Karina Valenti is out fishing with her friends today,” when in fact, I was at the new local library opening ceremony getting my picture taken with my dad and the fucking mayor—shit like that. And since when does Karina Valenti go fishing?
So, I decided to do this whole fake-public-profile-picture-on-social-media thing myself in order to protect the little privacy I did have. The issue of privacy was one of the reasons I didn’t come home very often. My parents usually had to beg me relentlessly for two months straight before I eventually agreed to visit.
I didn’t like the way I felt when I was here in town, the way everyone made me feel. Like I said, I wasn’t stupid. I was not oblivious to what my father did, and neither was the rest of Boston—the world, for that matter. Wherever I went, I was labeled as the daughter of Lorenzo Valenti, the infamous mafia boss everyone knew he was, but was unable to prove.
I’d long made peace with the knowledge that whispers would always follow me wherever I went, no matter where in the world I was. But here in Boston, my hometown, it wasn’t just whispers—it was screams. No one here even tried to be inconspicuous when they talked about me, about my family. And I hated it.
I hated every second I spent here. I hated the giant label that hung around my neck like a scarlet letter, which was why I’d spent the last two years trying to distance myself from my family—from my dad. It was hard, but not being around them was the only way for me to be able to breathe normally.
Anyway, seemed like I just fucked up on this whole doing my own PR thing as well.
I pulled my hand through my hair, tangling my fingers through the curls. It was something I did when I was nervous, but only those closest to me knew that.
“Are you nervous, Miss Valenti?”
What the fuck?
I shifted slightly in my seat. “Detective Stone, you seem to think you know me. But let me assure you, you don’t.”
He shook his head, an inky black curl moving down his forehead. “I might not know you, Miss Valenti, but apparently all one hundred and eighty-two thousand, three hundred and twenty-two followers don’t know you either.” A cocky grin crossed his face, drawing my attention to those damn dimples again.
I uncrossed my legs then crossed them again. “It’s a necessary precaution.”
He held his arms up and shrugged. “And I totally get that. Being the daughter of the wealthy, powerful, notorious Wall Street guru, Lorenzo Valenti, has its downsides, I suppose.”
I glowered at him from underneath my lashes. “Tell me what you want, Detective Stone.”
He tucked his phone back into his pants pocket. “I want you to tell me what the fuck is happening in this city.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what you mean.”
“During the last two years, it’s like everything got shot to shit in this place, and I’m willing to bet my life savings your father is behind it all.”
“It’s not much, is it?”
“What isn’t much?”
“Your life savings.” I almost high-fived myself.
He continued to stare at me, his expression unreadable. “So, you’re not just a no bullshit woman, but you’re funny too.”
I smiled.
He leaned back and lifted a leg, placing his ankle over one knee, and God help me, when I noticed how perfectly his jeans hugged his thick, hard thighs, I couldn’t stop my gaze from moving upward to see what else those denims were hugging. The thought alone caused the slightest ache to pulse between my legs. Jesus.
“See something you like, Miss Valenti?” His voice interrupted my sleazy thoughts that had no place inside my mind. I jerked my head up and cleared my throat.
“Not particularly, no.” For some reason, I couldn’t look at him since I practically had thoughts of his cock infest my mind just seconds ago. Judging by the heat that spread across my skin, I knew I was flushed from chest to forehead. I hoped he didn’t notice.
“You look flushed.” Goddammit.
“It’s from the lack of oxygen in this damn room.” I met his gaze.
He narrowed his dark eyes, and one side of his lip curved up. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s that.”
“Do me a favor, would you? Cut the bullshit and get to the point so I can get out of here.”
“Okay, then. Tell me about your dad—or the Wolf, as he’s known as on the streets. Tell me what kind of operation he’s really running.”
Oh, my God. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me that exact question. The Wolf was always on everyone’s minds and lips whenever they were around me. It was like I didn’t even exist apart from being Lorenzo Valenti, the Wolf’s daughter. Everyone was so damn predictable when it came to me and my relationship with my dad.
“Detective, I really don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Oh, come now, Miss Valenti. We both know your father doesn’t make his millions just by running a family business and playing around on the stock market.”
“What exactly are you implying, Detective?”
He shifted in his seat and placed his hands on the table. “You can cut the crap, Miss Valenti. Lorenzo Valenti is what we call an Italian-American mafia boss, and even though I can’t prove it now, I will.”
A cold tremor wracked through my body, and I wiped a curl out of my face to mask the mini panic attack I was having. “I don’t know where you get your information, but you should really consider removing those informants from your payroll, Detective.”
He snorted. “I thought you were a no bullshit kind of woman.”
“I’m not. I mean I am.” Shit. I’m nervous. This damn man was making me nervous, and growing up with two headstrong Italian brothers who made me the tough woman I was today, that was saying a lot.
“So, which is it?”
I cleared my throat, determined not to let my discomfort show. “Detective Stone, am I under arrest?”
“Not at all.”
I grabbed my purse and stood. “In that case, it was nice to meet you, Detective Stone. But please, in the future, do not waste my time like this.”
I leaned over the table, getting as close to him as possible. “I have a life I need to live in order to share it with my one hundred and eighty-two thousand, three hundred and twenty-two followers. I really don’t want to disappoint them.”
“I wouldn’t want to interfere with that, now, would I?” His eyes darted down to my chest, and then I realized I basically just shoved my cleavage in his face.
“See something you like, Detective?”
“Absolutely.” He glanced up from my cleavage to my face. “And, unlike you, I’m not afraid to admit it.”
I bent a little lower, purposely allowing my blouse to gape even more, making sure he got an eyeful of something he would never have. “Believe me, I’m not afraid to admit when I see something I like…or want.”
“That makes you a liar, then.”
“And what exactly gives you that idea?”
“You arching your back so you can shove your tits in my face.” His eyes flitted down to my breasts before he leaned to the side and glanced back at my ass. “Then there’s also the way your ass is currently pushed up like it’s searching for something,” he looked back at me, “or maybe it needs something.”
Oh. My. God.
The way those words rolled out of his mouth like verbal porn had heat spreading all the way from my cheeks, down my spine, straight to the ache between my legs.
Without backing away, I kept my gaze fixed on his. “You’re quite observant, aren’t you, Detective?”
He nodded. “That’s why I’m so damn good at everything I do.”
The way he emphasized the word “everything,” I knew he wasn’t talking about his job.
I narrowed my eyes as I slowly started to realize playing the flirting game with Detective Stone wasn’t something I would win easily. He had that whole sex-appeal thing down to a fucking T, and judging by the desire currently pooling between my legs, I was convinced if we continued with this little game, it would end with me bent over this goddamn steel table, cuffed and gasping for air while he proved to me what a liar I was, over…and over…and over again.
“Are we finished here, Detective?”
“Not by a longshot.” The promise in his words came out loud and clear, and it sent a thrill of excitement down my spine.
Excitement? Of course, I would feel excitement since I had the natural talent to break rules whenever I got the chance. I believed some people called it masochistic tendencies.
I needed to leave…now.
Abruptly, I turned and headed to the door, only to realize there was no doorknob, or any way to open the door from the inside.
Annoyed to no end, I swung around and glared at him.
He smirked. “Is there something wrong, Miss Valenti?”
“Open the damn door.”
And there he went again, biting his bottom lip, his gaze starting at my black stiletto heels, slowly moving up my legs, stopping at my knees just below my black pencil skirt, before continuing up my body. With each passing second, it felt like his stare was touching me, caressing every inch he saw. The sexual tension that suddenly pulsed all around us made it almost impossible to breathe. It sucked every breath out of my lungs, and it felt like the temperature in here fucking skyrocketed.
While I was basically hyperventilating on the spot, I watched as he got up and stalked in my direction, his intense gaze practically pinning me against the door behind me. With every step he took, it was like my body automatically responded to him. He was about six-foot-four of pure muscle and malice—rough around the edges with a wild, untamed streak in every goddamn move he made. Definitely not like all the other detectives at this precinct. The others certainly didn’t force images of wild nights and satin sheets clinging to our sweaty bodies into my head—not like Detective Stone was doing right now. Especially with that mouth of his slightly parted, promises of dark desires and decadent pleasures hanging from his lips.
Unbelievable.
I was a strong woman. Men hardly ever intimidated me, and seducing me was no easy task. But this man? This man had my attention for nothing more than a few minutes, and already my mind was filled with dirty thoughts and wild fantasies.
He stepped up to me, his face inches from mine. I felt his warm breath skid across my cheek, and the sensation stormed straight through my body, settling right between my thighs.
As he leaned closer, the warmth of his breath started to stir an array of sensations all through my body. My heart was now jackhammering against my ribs, my throat feeling like the damn desert.
When he lifted his arm, his gaze never leaving mine, I sucked in a breath. And then he reached behind me, his lips mere inches away, and pushed a button next to my head and said, “Monroe, open the door for Miss Valenti.”
I thought I died. I was dead. I died and collapsed into a giant puddle of pathetic womanhood.
The click of the door sounded behind me, and I was out of there faster than you could say “what the fuck was that?”
As my heels clicked down the hall, my heartbeat slowly returning to normal, I heard a second pair of footsteps behind me.
“You in town long, Miss Valenti?”
I took a deep breath, but I didn’t slow down. “You’re the detective, you tell me.”
“I’m guessing no more than a few weeks?”
“Is that you guessing or saying?”
He fell into step next to me. “I’m going to go with guessing.”
I stopped and turned to face him. “You’re good, Detective, I’ll give you that. But let’s say you’re right—and I’m not saying you are—but if I am the daughter of an Italian-American mafia boss, as you suspect I am, you’ve got real balls summoning me down here and then putting me in a damn interrogation room like a criminal. I’d say that wasn’t a very smart move, Detective.”
He studied my face, and I didn’t even blink. Heck, I didn’t even breathe.
“Are you threatening me, Karina?” Lord help me, but the way my name rolled off his lips was like eroticism on fucking steroids. It was like porn to my ears.
I took a step back and tried to ignore the tingles spreading through my bones like wildfire, and I squared my shoulders.
“Not at all.” I lifted my voice a single octave. “I’m merely stating that if what you said was true, you just made one hell of a rookie mistake.”
With my words hanging in the air like the threat it was meant to be, I turned on my heel and sashayed my curvy ass out of there. I could feel his eyes on me the entire time, until I exited the building.
The moment I stepped outside, I took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill my lungs. The feeling that scratched against every bone in my body was too damn familiar. I’d experienced this before, the feeling of a man being able to electrify my body without even touching me. It was unnerving, yet exciting at the same time. But I learned the hard way that this feeling was also powerful enough to bring me to my knees. I promised myself I would never let a man affect me like that again. Too much was at stake, and I already had too many regrets because I gave in to that temptation once.
But, by God, my body felt like it was on fire just having Detective Stone’s eyes on me. He wasn’t even touching me, or close to touching me, for that matter. There was sweat running down my back, for God’s sake. That was how he managed to affect me within less than twenty-five minutes.
It was the eyes. It had to be those dark goddamn eyes. Devil eyes, that was what they were. Dark windows into the demonic world where he could make you offer up sweet, innocent little puppies with a single glance. Damn, I was pretty sure he would make you want to toss in a tiny kitten as well, just for good measure.
I exhaled and looked up to the sky. Was this the universe’s way of playing one sick joke on me, showing me no matter how hard I tried to put the past behind me, there was no way of escaping who I was? A woman drawn to the forbidden, charmed by the prospects of breaking rules, and resisting authority by walking on the edge?
No. Not again. Never.