Bastiano Romano: A Standalone Mafia Romance Novel (The Five Syndicates Book 4) by Parker S. Huntington (18)

Her eyes widened as she studied me in silence. “I was on the phone, but I was just leaving.” Her tone remained casual, but I caught the slight breathlessness. The tantalizing way her chest moved up and down with each inhale and exhale.

I took a step forward, and she lifted herself, teetering off balance when I took another step toward her. With her equilibrium still wavering, she quickly spun around to leave, but my arm shot out and pressed against the wall, blocking her path.

She turned further to avoid touching me. A smirk graced my lips at her new position. She faced the wall now, and I let my other arm press against the wall on her other side, effectively caging her in.

She could have ducked under my arm or pushed it aside, and I would have let her. But she didn’t, so I took a step forward.

Then, another.

And another.

With every step I took, she moved with me until her front pressed flush against the wall. I stopped when hardly a millimeter separated us. Her heavy breathing occupied the air surrounding our bodies.

Music to my fucking ears.

I moved her hair from her shoulder, letting my finger linger on her skin longer than necessary.

Her head fell forward, and she pressed it against the wall. “What are you doing?” Her husky whisper gripped my cock and wouldn’t let go.

The flashes of her parted lips as she’d watched me shoot jets of cum on my desk did nothing to soothe my erection.

I ignored her question in favor of my own. “What are you still doing here?”

Even though I’d been absent while dealing with my best man duties the past week, I knew the employee schedule like the back of my hand, and almost an hour had passed since she’d been scheduled to get off work.

My only employee with the habit of staying late was Dana, and my glance at the surveillance cameras had already told me the leech was long gone.

Ariana, on the other hand?

Her body begged me to take her. To lift her dress, pull her panties to the side, tug on her ponytail, and sink my teeth into her neck as I buried my cock inside her soaking wet pussy.

Yet, she didn’t strike me as the type to stalk the men she was attracted to—and I had no doubt she was attracted to me. The sexual tension simmering between us burned hotter than a volcanic eruption on the sun.

Once upon a time, I’d been prepared to propose to a woman with whom I’d thought I had incomparable sexual chemistry. I was starting to realize that comparing Ariana to Elsa was like comparing a stove fire to a forest fire. Elsa was the flickering flame above the stove; Ariana was the blazing inferno that consumed the forest, chased predators from their home, and rained ashes down from the sky.

But our chemistry—the need for us to touch one another—couldn’t be why she stayed late.

Which led me to why I left for the hallway in the first place—to figure out why the hell she was still here. Her reasons were most likely innocent, but I wasn’t one to assume. One wrong move, and I could hurt a lot of people. I had my family to think about.

I considered my options. I could ask nicely, but that never got shit done. I could keep an eye on her, but between my standard deep background check, Gio investigating her last name, and my attraction to her, I was already doing that. I settled on asking impolitely, catching her off guard, and using my body to lure an honest answer from her.

I looped a finger around a lock of her hair—successfully taking her off guard—and tugged gently. “Well?”

She shuddered under my touch, and I relished in the power I held over her. I should have stepped back. She was my employee, and I needed it to stay that way until I could find a replacement. Plus, until I fired her, this was a human resources disaster just waiting to happen, and despite the fact that he could afford one, I doubted Asher would appreciate a lawsuit.

But it had been a long day, and I was sick of holding myself back for everyone. And I wasn’t above using my body to fluster her.

“I think I was stood up.”

“You think?” I didn’t bother smothering my amused smirk.

“He was supposed to pick me up and take me to the movies, but it’s almost four, and he’s not here.”

Boring. My amusement waned. She had a date, and it sounded like something out of a G-rated Disney flick. Until I remembered what she’d said to Tessie. Ariana had never gone to the movie theater before.

I’d love to go sometime. With someone special and as cool as you.

She could have been lying to Tessie, but I doubted it. Which meant she thought whoever she had plans with was special.

I took a step back, releasing her from my hold and almost regretting the fact that, other than her hair and shoulder, I hadn’t taken the opportunity to touch her. “He did you a favor by ditching you. The 24-hour theater is where fifteen-year-old boys go to get laid when their parents are home and they can’t afford a hotel room. Did you choose the place or did he?” I paused, and a rude laugh slipped past my lips with ease. “Are you sure he’s eighteen?”

She scowled, turned to face me, and opened her mouth to respond, but I cut her off. “That was rhetorical. I don’t actually give a shit.” I took another step back, finally an appropriate distance from her. “I have better things to do with my night.”

I didn’t.

It was four in the morning, and all the hottest models were probably long gone from Rogue by now. If I left L’Oscurità, I’d be alone with nothing to do. But I sure as hell didn’t want to go back into the office, and if I stayed in this narrow hallway with Ariana any longer, I would probably end up balls deep inside her.

Hell, her nipples were still hard and poking out of her dress. She could pretend to hate me all she wanted, but I knew she craved me.

Which was why I also knew this conversation had to end.

Now.

But when I was halfway to the door, she called out, “Wait.”

And because I didn’t actually want to be alone, I did.

This was a mistake.

Everything about this situation was a mistake.

Going undercover with my real name.

Leaving Bianchi with Giovanni and Vincent Romano.

Being alone with Bastian.

But it was the hand I had been dealt, and I needed to make the best of it. And that meant keeping Bastian here, so I had an excuse to keep an eye on Bianchi’s safety. Or maybe I’d get lucky and witness an after-hours crime I could testify to seeing.

Either way, my plan depended on Bastian staying. Bastian, who had just been delivering Bianchi’s suffering. Bastian, who was perhaps the most unpleasant person I had ever met. Bastian, who couldn’t care less about keeping me company. Bastian, who I was way too attracted to for my own good.

He turned to me, a sheen of curiosity coating his eyes. “Well?”

I fixated my gaze on the bar. “Have a drink with me.”

“Why?”

A surge of helplessness flooded my body at his indifferent tone. “Because I just got stood up, and it’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“I’m not a gentleman.”

He was right, but he was also wrong. Bastian, for all intents and purposes, didn’t just look like a gentleman. He was one. He had been educated at the best boarding school the country had to offer, was a Wilton alumnus, had the distinct wardrobe of an upper east side point-zero-one percenter, and could be so chivalrous, it did unmentionable things to my ovaries.

The problem was, his chivalry only extended to his family, and beyond them, it was like none of us little people existed. A few days ago, he had patiently held the door open for a solid two or three minutes while Tessie had taken her time packing up her backpack before heading out of the break room. I had been right behind her, but as soon as she passed the doorframe, he closed the door.

Right. On. My. Face.

My eyes lowered to the floor, and I dragged the uncomfortable moment out before I finally gathered the nerve to look him in the eyes. “Be one for me.”

My words surprised even myself, but they were an honest plea. A little bit of vulnerability I allowed myself to brandish because it was me and I was doing my best at pretending to be myself.

Maybe I was being foolish, but for some reason, talking to Bastian came as naturally as breathing. And the odd thing was, organic moments like these were gold for legends. When undercover agents entered a legend, they aspired to achieve the ability to instinctively be their legend.

Yet, here I was with Bastian, my words and actions effortless and natural in the face of the mafia prince of one of the cruelest criminal dynasties to have ever graced the United States of America.

The tension in the air—one part hostility and two parts mistrust—shifted. The mistrust remained unaffected, but the hostility loosened until the only thing left between us was caution and desire.

Bastian led me to the bar, and I followed closely behind. Surprise trickled through my body as he took his position behind the bar and began to make us drinks. He grabbed two glasses, dried them off, and topped them with ice. I let loose a bitter laugh when he poured the amaretto in them and filled the rest of the cups with sour lemon mix.

He took a seat next to me, his eyes flickering briefly in the direction of the office. “When you were in front of the office, did you hear anything?”

My pulse thrummed in my veins. I placed my glass on the table, so it wouldn’t slip through my fingers as I forced myself to keep my voice casual. “Are you accusing me of eavesdropping?”

“Not of eavesdropping intentionally.” He arched a brow. “Unless you did.” The way his eyes stayed on me, so intense and unapologetic as the scanned my face, unnerved me.

I backtracked, considered my options, and decided to go with the half-truth. I gave a convincing wince and admitted, “Some parts. When you guys were loud.”

“What did you hear?”

“You were threatening someone’s daughter.”

“We were reminiscing about his daughter,” he corrected, traces of an untethered smirk gracing his lips.

I rolled my eyes. “What did he do to deserve that?”

He considered me for a moment, his eyes slowly roaming my face with far more patience than I possessed. “My cousin is pregnant with Bianchi’s baby. When she told him, he tossed some bills at her face and directed her to the nearest women’s clinic.”

Ice coursed through my veins, and I winced. If my mom had told my dad she was pregnant, would he have done the same? Or worse? Would he have forced my mom into something she hadn’t wanted?

Growing up, I’d never known how to feel about my mom keeping me a secret from my dad. On one hand, I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. That he wasn’t the monster my aunt had told me he was. On the other hand, I wanted my mom’s sacrifice to mean something more than just a mistake.

It was worse that I couldn’t confront her about it. She had died the same day she had given birth to me, and her sister—my aunt—had raised me in a small town in New Jersey, where she taught me to hate the De Lucas and all things that strayed on the wrong side of the law.

The sympathy I had for Bianchi died a transient death.

I took a long swig of my drink and muttered, “What an asshole.”

Bastian barked out a surprised laugh and nodded his head. “Of the gaping variety.”

“That’s just gross.”

A rare playful gleam glazed his eyes, making him seem almost human. “Tell me honestly, how much of an asshole do you think I am?”

“Honestly?”

“Of course.”

“The worst. Like, at least a twelve on a scale of one to ten.”

“And Bianchi?”

“A different type of asshole.”

“If we’re different types of assholes and he’s gaping, would that make me puckered?”

“Oh, my God. How much have you had to drink?”

He laughed, and I reveled in the fact that he could be playful.

Gross, but playful.

I had the sinking feeling this was a one-time thing. That I had caught him off guard. Maybe something had happened today to make him crave this type of companionship. Maybe it was the delirium of the early hour. Maybe I was filling in for someone else. Or maybe, like me, he was sick of feeling so damned lonely all the time. Either way, I knew the likelihood of catching him like this again was slim to none, and I wanted to preserve this moment and take advantage of it.

Whether for selfish reasons or my sense of duty, I didn’t know.

Bastian’s glass had been emptied, but he didn’t make a move to clean up and leave. “Why are you here, Ariana?” His words doused me like a bucket of ice-cold water flipped over my head.

“What do you mean?”

“Why are you a bartender? As you like to slide into every conversation, you went to Degory. You graduated top of your class, too.”

Degory was the West Coast’s answer to Ivy League schools. I saw nothing wrong with being a bartender, but I understood what he meant. What was the point of pursuing a premium education only to get a job I didn’t need a degree to do?

“I don’t slip it into every conversation.” It was valid, but I ignored his question anyway. “You actually read my resume?”

“I vet every employee I hire and all the ones I don’t.” His voice was miffed, as if the mere suggestion that he ran the restaurant anything but perfectly disturbed him. “Are you ignoring my question?”

I took a moment to think before I spoke, threading the truth into my cover like Wilks had taught me, “I don’t know why I’m a bartender. In fact, I don’t know what I’m doing with my life in general. Maybe I never have. I know what my family wants me to do,”—Aunt Nadia had been all for my career at the FBI and would probably have been delirious with excitement if I took any of the mafia syndicates down a peg, even if it wasn’t the De Luca family in particular—“but I don’t know what I want.”

I downed the last finger of my drink. “I guess, until I figure it out, I’m just going through the motions, trying not to disappoint anyone along the way.”

He turned to me and opened his mouth to say something but faltered, the most uncertain he had ever been around me. “I feel the exact same way.”

His words left me reeling.

“But you have L’Oscurità.”

And the Romano syndicate.

Was it possible he didn’t want anything to do with that side of the family business? That maybe, like me, he was just going through the motions? I wanted to confide in him. To explain that I was floundering because nothing about my life was black and white. But just like I couldn’t choose myself over my duty to my country, I couldn’t tell him who I really was and what I really did.

And I was struck by my desire to confide in him.

By this fleeting moment of camaraderie we shared.

His eyes didn’t leave mine as he spoke. “L’Oscurità is mine and it isn’t. But even if it was entirely mine, I don’t know if I would want it.”

“So, what do you want?”

“I don’t know, Ariana. I don’t know.” He paused a bit before he admitted, “I want a lot of things I can’t have.”

A connection between us lingered in the air like the morning fog above the California coastline. When I had gone to Degory, I used to wake up early to run through the fog. The cold mist against my skin felt like being kissed by mother nature, but this time, it was Bastian I wanted to kiss.

I leaned forward, my intent clear in my eyes. This was wrong, so taboo I could hardly fathom it, but I wanted this more than I could remember wanting anything else. And for a startling second, it looked like he wanted me, too.

He leaned forward, and finally—finally—his lips were almost brushing mine.

The sound of footsteps drummed their way into my ears, and Gio and Vince interrupted us, entering the main bar area with Bianchi trailing behind them like a meek lamb being led to slaughter. Bastian straightened up instantly and leaned away from me. The movement was small, but it spoke volumes.

His voice dipped low, so only I could hear. “This conversation changes nothing.”

But it did, and we both knew it.