His Mafia Queen

In Bed With the Devil

RILEY

Gabriel and I wake early. We fuck, quick and furious, like we hadn't wrung each other's souls dry the previous night. I orgasm while I'm on top, and then keep riding him until he finishes.

"Jesus, you're incredible. You're going to kill me. But what a way to die." He palms my breasts. "Blondie, I'm sorry, but I really have to run this morning because I have a mountain of shit to take care of. And as much as I'd like to see you tonight—"

I lean down to kiss him, reveling in how domestic we feel. It's a startling sensation considering the backdrop of his life. Better not get too used to this, a little voice says inside me.

"No, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm not clingy."

He flips me onto my back, his cock sliding out of me. "I have a business dinner tonight. I expect to see you tomorrow, though."

"What else do you expect?" I purr.

He slides his hand between my legs and cups my pussy. "More of this. Much more."

Like that part of me would ever say no to him.

"Good luck with your meeting today, I know you'll kick ass. Call me and let me know how it goes." he says, giving me a kiss on the lips.

"Thanks." I ruffle his hair and stretch. It's such a welcome change to have a man listen — and remember — the things I say.

Gabriel leaves to work out in his home gym, and his driver takes me to my apartment where I shower and prepare for the early meeting with my editor. Gabriel's driver also takes me to the office because that's where I left my car.

I make it into the office with five minutes to spare. Enough time to drop my bag at my desk, not enough time to pour a big, terrible, cup of coffee. Maybe that's not a bad thing where my stomach's concerned. For some reason, I'm nervous about this meeting, and as I walk to Mike's office, my legs tremble a little.

Mike's in his office, hunched over his keyboard. When I enter, he swivels in his chair.

"That's what I like about you, Murphy. You're punctual. Half the clowns here can't seem to tell time."

I bite back a smile. What is going on here? Between Mike's email praise last night and this gruff compliment, I'm starting to think he values me as an employee.

"Good morning to you too, Mike."

He chuckles and leans back while playing with a pen. "I'm sure you have a lot to do today, so I won't take up much of your time."

I don't have much to do, actually, but was planning to head to the prosecutor's office to see if I can find out any more about Doyle's death. "Okay," I chirp.

"Two things. One. Some bigwigs from corporate in New York are coming to town today. They'll be here a couple of days. This is their annual meet and greet here at the paper, and they said they'd like to take out a couple of my star reporters. One tonight, and one tomorrow. I want them to get to know you, so which night is good for you."

Oh. Oh wow. Meeting the New York management team is a big deal, and generally seen as the first step toward getting a job at one of the chain's bigger papers. "Tonight would be perfect."

"Excellent. They have reservations at The Circle at seven. I'll be there closer to eight, since I have a thing with my kid I can't get out of."

"Ooh. Fancy." Circle's a hot new restaurant at the top of the Tampa Tower, the tallest building in the city. I've never been, but have read about it.

"It is. I'll have to put on my good shirt."

We share grins. Mike's not known for his formal attire; he wears rumpled button-downs and coffee-stained khaki pants.