Filthy: A Mafia Romance

But would it always be like that? Out of sight, out of mind when it came to my son? Or would he be willing to accept Cody into his life?

He’d told me he loved me, or at least felt a very strong, intense emotion that was bundled up in affection and sexual attraction. Which I admittedly also felt. But was that enough to base a relationship on?

Clearly, there were some details to be worked out here.

I wasn’t sure, but I knew I felt better having Ethan here with me. If someone came for me while he was here, Ethan would take care of them. He was tough and could be a real bastard, which meant he was exactly the kind of man I wanted on my side. And maybe in my life.

“I want you to keep it quiet,” Ethan was telling Louis. He’d called his guard dog after we’d recovered from our orgasms. They were discussing moving his stash of drugs from The Cut tonight. “I know there’s a lot there, but I don’t want to risk word getting out.” There was a pause, then, “Tommy knew. Which means he had to find out somehow. We were careful and that tells me maybe there’s someone slinking around that I shouldn’t be trusting.”

I frowned. A spy? I thought. Or maybe spy wasn’t the right word. Traitor? I stood and deposited the glass-filled towel in the kitchen trash.

“Yeah, okay. I’ll come down to help you,” Ethan said, then he glanced over at me. “Give me thirty. I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re going to help Louis move the crates?” I guessed as he shoved his phone into his pocket.

He nodded. “Yes. There’s a lot there and we want it moved as fast as possible.”

“And you don’t trust anyone else to help Louis?”

He smirked at me, walking over to me with a swagger that was pure Ethan. He came to me and put his hands on my hips, pulling me against him. I had put my shirt back on, but my panties remained lost somewhere in the apartment, probably to be found at a really awkward moment later. “Not unless you’re offering to help.”

He said it like he knew I wouldn’t want to, which made me straighten up and lift my chin so that I met his gaze. “If you need it.”

His eyebrows shot up high on his forehead. “Oh?”

Swallowing, I smiled at him sweetly and nodded. “Yeah. I’m not afraid.” Which was an outright lie, but I felt like he was teasing me and I didn’t want him to think I was a pushover. And maybe I wanted to prove that whatever had just started between us—a partnership, a relationship—I was serious about it.

He laughed at me, then shook his head. “I do love your bravado, Diana Leone. My kinda woman.”

He leaned down and kissed me then before I could say anything else. His tongue delved into my mouth and for a second, I thought we were going to have sex all over again. But despite the way his hands moved up under my shirt, grabbing my naked rear, we didn’t fall into bed again. He broke the kiss, his eyes dark with lust. “Fine. Put some damn clothes on then before I decide I’d rather have a payment than your help.”

I swatted at him for the payment comment, but didn’t take offense like maybe I should have. “Then keep your hands off my ass,” I retorted.

He squeezed my cheeks in response, smirking. It took everything I had to pull away from him, but it we were going to do this, we had to get moving, not play grab ass. I headed to my room to find panties and pants. And maybe a bra. I found myself pausing at the doorway to the hall. I hadn’t meant to, but I glanced back at him. He was staring at me with dark, smoldering eyes that told me he’d rather repeat our earlier activities than start these new ones.

I swallowed thickly. Maybe not a bra.

# # #

We drove to The Cut in Ethan’s car. He asked me a couple of quick questions about the business—his end of it and mine—while he drove.

“Are you asking me as a business partner or a peon?” I asked.

Though we’d talked about some things tonight, including Ethan’s feelings for me, I wasn’t a hundred percent sure where we stood. Did this mean we were a couple now? Or partners? Partners with benefits? Or was this more of a romantic relationship and I was supposed to keep my nose out of the business?

He took his eyes off the road to glance over at me, but didn’t linger. “You were never a peon.”

I snorted in amusement. “No?”

“No,” he said firmly, his tone allowing no room for arguing.

“Okay. But you didn’t always have feelings for me,” I pointed out. “So I must have been something different than I am now.”