His Mafia Queen

Indecent

RILEY

I wake to the soft white sheets tangled around my legs. I'm still wearing the black silk lounge outfit from the night before, and my entire body feels vaguely sweaty.

Squinting and blinking, I stare out the window at the water view. A ginormous yacht soars past. I sit up, confused. I check my smart watch that I got as a graduation gift from my brother and it's dead. Still, it seems early, from the angle of the sunlight just starting to filter into the room.

Where the fuck am I? Oh, right.

Not in my shitty apartment in the suburbs, that's for sure. I flop back onto the plush pillow and groan aloud. Normally I'd be thrilled to wake up in this kind of luxury.

But.

I'm at Gabriel Greco's mansion and I'm spending the weekend here. Oh, and I made out with him last night and then had a ménage à moi, twice. Once immediately after the kiss and once furiously in the middle of the night when I couldn't sleep. All while thinking about him.

The man I'm supposed to be writing an article about.

It's all so fucking wrong. Never mind unethical, it's downright dirty.

I scrub my face with my hands and try to shift my legs, but they're all bound up in the sheets. I whisper aloud a string of swear words and then comes a sharp knock at the door.

My whole body freezes. I'm in no position to face Gabriel now, all sweaty and sticky with my hair tangled and messy.

I free my legs from the twisted sheet and the knock echoes again through the room. "Coming," I yell.

It takes a little while to get to the door because the room is so big, and I pause before I open it.

"Uh, hello? Gabriel?" I call out. "I'm busy."

Well, that's idiotic. What would I be doing in here? Catching up on TV?

"Miss Murphy?" It's a woman's voice.

"Yes?" Now I'm genuinely puzzled.

"I'm one of Mr. Greco's assistants. He instructed me to give you the day's schedule and some other things."

A schedule? What is this? A cruise ship? With more than a little hesitancy, I unlock the door and open it. A smiling, pert brunette in a white polo shirt and navy blue shorts is beaming at me. She's probably ten or fifteen years older than me, and her expression is positively too bubbly for this hour.

"Hey." I'm aware that's probably not the most intelligent thing to say, but it's all I can muster. I scratch my head.

"Hello. I'm Cassie. May I come in?"

That's when I notice there's a cart next to her. It looks like something out of a hotel, with a tray holding a glass pitcher of water, a carafe, a coffee cup, and a glass. I spy a fruit platter and my mouth begins to water. And a...red rose in a crystal vase?

"If you don't want me to come in, I can leave this here and give your instructions," Cassie says, never dropping her pert tone.

"Oh, uh, no, I mean, yes. You can come in. Yes, please come in." I'm flustered by this entire situation, possibly even more so today. Last night feels like a long, hazy, erotic dream.

I stand aside and she pushes the cart into the room, carefully setting the tray on the long, low bureau. She holds out a folded piece of paper. "Here's the schedule. If you need anything, you can just ring me, I've put my number on a card on the tray."