Gemma: A Mafia Forbidden Romance

His face meets mine and I’m taken back by the beauty of him. His ash brown hair is messy on top and buzzed at the sides and he has a thick beard that matches it. The men in my family are clean shaved, they don’t look like this.

Raw.

Rugged.

Rough.

I want to know what that beard feels like between my thighs.

His blue eyes peer into mine as he gets closer. “Chay.” He says to her, but his eyes are still on me. “Who’s your friend?”

“Liam,” she stands from her seat to hug the man. “This is Gemma, my new friend. Gemma, this is my brother Liam.”

Liam doesn’t smile. Not as his sister hugs him and not as she introduces us. His eyes bore into mine and I wonder what he sees. His lips are pressed together in a slight grimace as he continues his focused consideration of me.

“Gemma,” he repeats, and my name on his lips makes my thighs clench.

“Nice to meet you.” I extend a hand for him to shake but he doesn’t take it, his arms stay crossed tightly against his muscled chest.

“Liam, you’re being rude.” Chaylene whispers, but he doesn’t even glance at her.

Still laser focused on me. “Gemma DelGado?” he questions, and his eyebrow lifts to look at me skeptically.

Suddenly my whole body clenches and I’m hyperaware that encounters like this are why I’m supposed to have an enforcer trailing me.

When I don’t answer he smiles for the first time, taking it as a yes.

“I didn’t know.” Chaylene whispers next to me. “Liam,” she looks at him pleadingly. “I swear, we just met at the gallery, it was innocent.” He doesn’t respond to her, instead an icy mask slips into place and his focus stays on me.

“Why don’t you come with me?” His hand gestures to the staircase. All I see at the top is a row of doors.

“No, thank you.”

His lips drawl up into an amused smirk. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have phrased it as a question. Come with me.” He points to the stairs once again.

“Liam-” He cuts his sister off with a wave of his hand.

“I have a car coming for you, Chay. Go home.”

He places his large hand to the small of my back and leads me over to the stairs, up and into his office, slamming the door behind us.

Fuck.

I PINCH THE BRIDGE OF my nose and try to calm myself down. This woman has me all worked up. Why the hell is she in my bar? My fucking bar.

Why the hell is she in Boston at all?

My day has been fucking hell, and now I have to deal with this girl being somewhere she doesn’t belong.

I would recognize that face anywhere. The girl is fucking beautiful, it’s hard to forget a face like hers.

Her long dark hair falls down her back, and her perfectly made face is striking. She looks to me with a mix of confusion and annoyance when she should be fucking scared.

Terrified.

She’s in the enemy’s territory.

My eyes linger on her tits peeking out of her shirt and the way her hips fill out that mini skirt. She’s fucking gorgeous.