Heart of a Monster: A New Reign Mafia Romance (New Reign Mafia Duet Book 1)

“You’re pushing your limits with him,” Bastian said from the window of his living room.

I was lying on his couch, swinging my legs back and forth in the air as he unfolded the top of another box. “Am I going to have to wear these knee-high socks here all the time, or do you turn up the heat ever?”

Bastian sighed and stalked toward me. “You don’t want to talk about him?”

“What’s there to talk about?” I asked, still swishing my legs, giving Bastian a sly smile.

He grabbed one calf and squeezed, stopping my rhythmic motion. His hand stayed where it was as he sat down next to my ass. Then he dropped my leg onto his lap. I let the other one fall down next to it. “I’m wondering about this arrangement.”

“Well, I can tell you it’s not the best plan you’ve ever come up with.”

“Why not?” he grumbled, but he asked like he already knew.

“We’re not nearly explosive enough to grab Georgie’s attention, and I can hook him if I just go back there.”

“Not happening.” Bastian’s commands were usually followed. Mob boss and all.

I put a pin in my idea for the time being. I figured I owed it to him to listen.

His hands rubbed up and down my thigh like it was a subconscious motion. It probably was, too. Bastian always had women around—hanging on him, tending to his every need—and he was a natural womanizer who charmed most of them with either the power he exuded or the natural way he took care of them. Hence the rubbing.

I didn’t pull my legs away. I let his hand roam and wondered if it felt as good as Rome’s on me, if I liked comfort as much as I liked Rome’s heat.

The difference between them was that I felt safe near Bastian, like he would wrap me up in pillows and treat me like a treasure.

“The plan extends beyond you staying here, Katie. We have to work him hard enough that he approaches us alone, that he wants answers from you so bad, he’s willing to step up to me with you on my arm.”

“Georgie’s a coward,” I stated, as if that explained why he would never approach Bastian. They had to know that, right?

“For the next week, I’ll take you out once or twice, but otherwise, you stay here. It’ll drive him crazy. Come time for the gala, he’ll have enough unanswered questions that either the men he’s working for will be wondering or he’ll be bursting at the seams to talk. We’ll get him then.”

“So, you want to keep me cooped up here twenty-four seven?” My voice came out as a squeak. I wasn’t good at staying put, wasn’t good at feeling locked in.

It’s only a few weeks.

That sounded like years and years in my head.

I propped myself up on my elbows to look at him. “You going to be okay with me here all the time?”

He smiled like a Cheshire cat and dipped a finger in a tiny hole that had formed at the top of my sock, against my calf. These were my favorite socks, and I hadn’t replaced them even when they’d worn through in certain parts. “I think I can handle you and your ratty socks. Don’t worry about me.”

“Oh, really?” I laughed and wiggled my calf away from him. “Our arrangement is going to make it pretty hard for you. In every sense of the word.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “How so?”

I feigned offense by holding my hand to my heart. “Excuse you, asshole. I’m hot as hell.” I curled my legs off him and stood up to do a twirl in my short shorts and cut-off top. With my hands on my hips, I popped my tits out in front of him. “I’ll be walking around here however I want, in whatever I want.”

“Even those socks?” he said as he feigned being scared.

“Oh, shut up. These socks just add to my appeal. You ready to remain celibate and have this right in front of you?”

Bastian bit his bottom lip and eyed me up and down as he leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs in his sweats like he owned the room and wasn’t at all worried about me in front of him.

A fire sparked small in my stomach, a challenge almost. The man controlled a city and thought he could control me. Something about bringing him to his knees appealed to me. The way he looked at me with such arrogance and heat appealed to me too.

“Who says I’m remaining celibate, Katalina?”

“You think you’re bringing women back here when I live here?” I shook my head. “Not happening. I’m not listening to that.”

“I don’t need to fuck in my own home. You think I can’t take a woman wherever I want in the city I own? If I want to fuck in the alley, I will. If I want to fuck in a club, I will. If I want to fuck in the middle of Chicago traffic in broad daylight, I will.”

My nipples tightened at his bold words, and he stared at them, watching them pebble. Something was happening between us, and I wasn’t sure I should continue to indulge in it.

I turned my back on him and walked to his kitchen. “Whatever you say, Bastian.” I waved him and the feeling off. This was supposed to be just an arrangement. Just for show.

“What do you have to eat?” I asked.

He got up and came over. “Why don’t you finish unpacking, and I’ll whip up dinner. You like pasta, yeah?”

“Doesn’t every girl like pasta?” I said through a smile. “You cook?”

“Sure.” He shrugged and rounded the counters to the refrigerator. He pulled sauce and a bowl of pasta dough from the refrigerator.

“Are those hand rolled?” My voice was higher than I wanted it to be. Pasta was actually a freaking weakness of mine, and this might have been the only time in my life I was trying handmade.

He side-eyed me. “Yes,” he said slowly. “Why do you look like you want to fuck me on the counter right now, woman?”

“Did you make that?”

He chuckled as he pulled out expensive pots and pans. “Katie, my momma taught me to cook when I was young, before she passed. I promise she never disappointed and made sure I never disappointed either. We only eat handmade in this house.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered. Every other man was forgotten for a moment. This man held handmade pasta and sauce. “Please tell me you aren’t joking. I don’t think I’ve ever been with a man who can cook like a boss.”

He laughed. “You really haven’t ever been with a man.”

I squinted at him and crossed my arms over my chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I know most every man you’ve had a relationship with because you do that shit for the family. You’re with me right now for the family. I appreciate it. I see your loyalty. I get your blood is my blood, but those guys weren’t men.”

“And you are?” I challenged him because my hackles rose the moment he talked about my role.

“I’m the man of most men, babe. You’ll see.”

“Hmmm, yes, I guess we will.”

Unpacking my clothes while Bastian cooked was a little more challenging than I expected. “Where the hell do you expect me to go with my dresses?”

“The closet!” Bastian yelled from the kitchen.

The closet was miniscule. I could barely fit my ass in there, and my ass wasn’t even that big. “Bastian, you’re joking right?” I stalked back down the hallway to glare at him. “That closet is for Harry Potter and belongs under a staircase.”

“Harry Potter?” he asked like he truly didn’t know, and just like that, all my hope for him died. “Never mind. Don’t even tell me. That’s your closet,” he stated like it wasn’t a problem.

“I’ll move your shit to that closet,” I spat back and started for his room.

I heard a pan clatter, and then Bastian was in front of me, faster than a cheetah on speed. “You touch nothing in my closet.”

“What’s in your closet?” I eyed him with newfound interest, my head drawn back a bit in question.

“Nothing of your concern.” His tone was hard and final, a stark reminder that I was a guest at the head of the mafia’s home. He pointed toward my room, and I stomped back there.

“Georgie had a full walk-in closet for me, you know?” I taunted.

“Georgie just about killed you the other night,” he replied, and I smiled at his retort.

Bastian and I were going to get along just fine.