For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5) (21 page)

Luca looks over my shoulder and greets, “James.”

So I spin around.

“
Bon giorno
. Luca, Logan, a word. We’ll be right back,” my father says to me, whisking Logan away from me.

Wait a minute, my father called him Logan?

I continue welcoming guests and soon, the house is filled. The tree in the foyer is surrounded by tons of presents, and the mood is light, thankfully; it’s our first family celebration without Cam and Adriano since he stayed at the hospital with her.

One of my cousins is already tipsy as he points at my green skirt and teases loudly, “Rosalia, you look like the Grinch. But a beautiful Grinch.”

I smile and retort, “You look already drunk, Tony.”

“That’s because I am.”

At that moment, I glance at the doorway as Logan casually drapes his jacket over the sofa before folding back his sleeves.

“And why are you sober?” Tony slurs. “Usually, you’re drunk with me at this point.”

That’s true. But I’ve had other things on my mind, and I don’t want to live with weekly hangovers anymore. “I’m taking it slow. I’d like to remember this night tomorrow.”

While Tony talks, I’m riveted by Logan. Although I was with him last night, I yearn for his touch again and want to make love to him, yet I’m still a bit hesitant. I haven’t been a virgin for twenty-one years to callously throw it away.

Several women gather around Logan in the blink of an eye, each of them gawking at his hard muscles that his shirt doesn’t hide in the least. Annoyance lurks inside me, and Logan is expertly avoiding my eyes as we mingle; whereas I’m aware of him the entire time, always in conversation with others. But when the same girl whispers something to him for the third time, making him smile, I clench my fist.

Let it go. Don’t confront him.

Nevertheless, I’m striding toward them before I know it. Logan glimpses at me and straightens to tell something to the woman. Then he dashes out to the foyer and up the curving stairway. I finish my eggnog and sneak out as well, ensuring no one witnesses me going after him.

On the second floor, I slink down the wide hall, not knowing which room he entered, so I whisper-shout, “Logan.”

As I pass the third door, it opens and I’m yanked inside the bathroom by my arm and pressed up against the door. Logan’s palms land beside my ears, caging me in, and he pushes his front to my chest, wedging his leg between mine.

“Hey, cricket. You look absolutely too beautiful for me to keep my hands off you.”

He kisses me. Not tenderly. Not cautiously extending an invitation, but possessing me with a sweep of his tongue. Heat creeps up, melting my center of gravity, and a moan escapes as I feel the bulge in his slacks.

“Were you jealous?” He nuzzles my throat.

I nod and admit, “I don’t like you flirting with her.”

He shows me a half-smile. “I wasn’t flirting
with
her.”

In reply, I give him a bland stare. “You know what I mean. Just don’t encourage her.”

“I won’t,” he promises immediately. “But no other men either, cricket. Tit for tat.”

“No men,” I compromise. If he only knew how tight his grasp on my soul is. “By the way, did you tell the Syndicate to call you
Logan
?”

“I did. I listened to you,” he answers in a tender voice and holds me, touching my cheek lightly with the back of his hand.

It’s the closest I’ve ever felt to being treasured.

Abruptly, my mother’s voice booms through the wall. Despite the interruption, Logan’s lips move down toward my breasts, yet I push him away with a giggle.

“Shhh,” he warns as we hear her bounding back down the stairs. “You go first before we get caught.” He opens the door for me.

I peek around the corner before running out of the bathroom, down the stairs, and to the dining room. With the warmth of his lips still dancing on mine, I take my seat at the table, and an unknown guy occupies the chair next to me.

As I’m about to ask who he is, my mom comes to me and introduces us, “Rosalia, meet Dominic. He’s Maria’s son.”

I have no idea which Maria because my mom has several friends named
Maria
, but I welcome him anyway. He’s studying me with a little too much interest as my mom darts away.

Oh, shit. Is she setting me up with Dominic?

“So, Rosalia, I hear you attend the University of Chicago,” Dominic says.

“Yeah, I do,” I respond absentmindedly.

Of course, now Logan is seated on my other side. This just got uncomfortable fast. My father is at the head of the table to my left, and Dominic is practically interrogating me, acting like this is a date and prying into my life. I constantly attempt to steer the conversation back to him.

While this is going on, Logan seems unfazed, talking with Fallon and Luca as turkey is being served, but when dessert arrives, he places his hand on my thigh and grips it when Dominic inches closer to me. Though Logan doesn’t turn his body toward me; it’s a clear warning.

I need to ditch this guy.

The heat of Logan’s palm scorches my skin, and as he traces his hand up and down, I notice the corner of his mouth tilting up when I’m forced to squash a moan.

“I’d like to take you out on a date,” Dominic comments.

I swallow a bite of my creamy
limoncello
gelato dessert as Logan’s hand shoots off my thigh, and he abandons his meal in favor of fixing me with an intense stare.

Fortunately, at this moment, my parents stand up, and everyone relocates to the living room to unwrap presents, and thank goodness, Dominic is distracted by a family member, who tugs him with her.

“Don’t forget what we just discussed,” Logan hisses into my ear before he rises and snatches his drink from the table.

“What am I supposed to do?” I defend in a panic, but my five-year-old cousin runs up to me excitedly.

“Let’s open gifts, Rosalia.” She holds out her arms.

I scoop her up and carry her to the tree where she wiggles down my body and rummages through the massive amount of presents.

“Look”—she thrusts a rectangular package into both my hands—“for you.”

“Thank you, sweetie.” I tear open the package and joy spirals through me.

It’s my customary perfume with a white rosebud cap. My old bottle was empty; Logan knew it. I search for him to find his gaze pinned on me from the living room while he takes a deliberate sip of his whiskey. I’m much more than another one of his women – I cling to that belief. Regrettably, we can’t celebrate together due to all these familiar faces around.

“Well, thank you, Santa,” I say to no one in particular and hold the bottle up. “This is just what I needed.” I thought that would make Logan smile, but no; his steadfast glare doesn’t change.

Then I feel a hand on the small of my back and crane my neck to be confronted with Dominic before stepping forward to create distance between us.

“Hey.”

When I cast a glance at Logan, his mood has plummeted, and I just want to be with him now, not all these people.

“Sorry, I have to go.” Irritated by Dominic, I brush him off and traipse away.

Logan gestures with his glass toward my clutch on the sofa and then glances at his phone screen in his hand, so I slide out my phone and read a message.

Logan: Pool house. Now.

When I look up, he’s already gone. It’s a risk to meet him there now. Still, I make my way through the kitchen anyway, crossing the garden to the pool house, which is unlocked, for a few stolen, illicit moments.

Once all the stars align, no power on earth can keep lovers apart.

Logan

––––––––

I
march toward the kitchen, whiskey in hand, after sending Rosa a message.

As I pass Henry, he smirks. “Did you just try to impress her?”

“What?”

“I saw the present you gave Rosalia. When a guy like you tries to impress a girl like her, then you’re a goner. You just don’t know it yet,” he explains with prophesying words before I throw open the back door.

Contrary to what Henry said, I
do
know. Rosa barreled into my life and shattered my tightly scheduled plans. She’s the only woman who’s ever been able to hold my interest without having a sexual relationship. Well, not in the old-fashioned sense. It has turned into a relationship. I’m also aware that I haven’t been flirting with anyone else. Moreover, I fucking loathe the thought of another man touching her.
She’s mine.

It’s refreshingly charming how honest she is about her own jealousy. How vulnerable she’s making herself. Yet I’m pissed off because the need to mark her is painfully profound.

With my credit card, I easily break into her pool house. The room is dark except for the moonlight and artificial lighting from the garden reflecting inside. I’m sitting in the lounge chair next to the bed, my ankle crossed over my knee, swirling my drink on the armrest as I wait when the door slithers open.

Rosa darkens the doorway in her gorgeous skirt. “Did you break into my house?”

“Yes.” One word comes out of my mouth, betraying how irritated I am.

“I didn’t know my mom was going to set me up,” she explains in a rush.

I rub my neck. “I know.” Then I inquire, “Does your mother know about us?”

“No, she would’ve talked to me if she knew. Why?”

“Why is she setting you up all of a sudden?” I ask.

“She sometimes does it because she wants me to meet a nice Italian man.”

“An Italian man,” I sneer.

My resentment makes her smirk. “Don’t worry about that.” She closes the distance and stops before me. “Thank you for my perfume.”

Uncrossing my leg, I set my drink on the nightstand beside the chair as she positions herself astride me, bringing us face-to-face.

The second I cup her jaw, my aggravation bursts out. “I don’t like other men gawking at you at every turn. If they knew you were mine, no one would dare to look at you. Or fucking set you up on dates! I’m beginning to hate this sneaking around.”

Uncertainty blankets her striking features. “Why are you saying it like that? Like it’s a burden?”

“It is at this point. We don’t date other people. Obviously, we don’t want to. But you won’t let me inside you,” I point out, “while I want you so fucking much.”

“But how can you want me so much when you’ve been with so many women?”

“Let’s not discuss that now. I can tell you this though, when it’s with someone special, it’s different. I’m wild to fuck you, and you’re the only woman who’s ever made me this way. I need to feel you where no one’s been before. To take that piece of you, to possess you,” I grind out.

She traces the line of my brow with her fingertip tenderly, calming my rampant emotions. “I never thought you were the possessive type.”

“I wasn’t.” Not before I met her. But this enigmatic beauty is mine, and I’ll take what I long for.

“I want you too,” she admits, “but I want you to choose me as well.”

“I’ve already chosen you, Rosa. I’m faithful to you; you know that. You need to give me something as well. Or am I just a distraction until you meet a nice Italian man to marry? The man you deem worthy enough to fuck. You always keep that part of yourself from me. How do you think it makes me feel that you’re holding back while I’m fucking in love with you!” I own up, framing her face in both hands.

Her palm rests on my chest. “Oh, Logan,
Ti amo
.” I love you.

“Say it again,” I growl and nip her lip.

“
Ti amo. Sono tuo
. I love you. I’m yours,” she whispers.

Her words slightly appease the anarchy in my soul. “Then let me fuck you, Rosa,” I state between frantic kisses. I’m too far gone and need her one way or the other.

Love can hurt so much. Yet it can also mend a person. She’s shown me that. The selfish part of me won’t let her be with another man – ever. I felt the inexplicable attraction between us from the start, and it’s developed into something greater before I’ve even fucked her.

“Um...”

Her indecision pulls at my heartstrings, so I say, “Let me fuck your ass then.”

She rears back, shocked yet intrigued.

“I’ll make it good for you,” I vow, letting her feel my stiffening cock.

She bites the inside of her cheek, considering my offer. “Okay,” she murmurs.

I palm the back of her head, pushing her into my kiss to prevent her from overthinking her decision. Forgetting the circumstances, I toss her onto the bed, rapidly locking the front door, and find a bottle of unscented oil in the bathroom cupboard.

Rosa’s lying on the white sheets and turquoise pillows when I return to the side of the bed and pitch the bottle onto the mattress, shedding my vest and dress shirt before taking off her shoes.

Kissing her ankle, I swipe the edge of her skirt up while nibbling a path up her body. Then I guide the skirt off her legs and pull her black top over her head. Rosa watches every second of my seduction with half-lidded eyes as I nuzzle her cleavage, and she bows her back so that I can loosen her bra, hurling it aside without bothering to check where it lands, and I remove her panties.

Rosa sits up, unbuckling my belt while I loosen the knot of her hair to sift my fingers into the strands. Impatiently, she shucks off my pants after I kick off my shoes.

At long last, we’re both naked. I clutch her hips and flip her onto her stomach effortlessly, running my tongue up the back of her thighs.

“Hmm, Logan...”

And I bite her rounded behind before moving up to rub my erection between her ass cheeks, the head of my cock spreading her wetness.

“I love feeling you on top of me like this,” she purrs, turning her face to me.

I dip my tongue into her mouth, rubbing my bare, feverish front over her irresistible curves while lust overrules my thoughts. It’s an astonishing kind of pleasure that scares me as I press inside her a little, groaning in devastating satisfaction.

“Don’t tempt me, cricket, or I’ll thrust inside your pussy.”

She laughs, enticing me by pushing back, causing me to grunt. Before I lose my resolve, I guide Rosa up on her knees and position her hands on the edge of the headboard, tracing my lips down her spine. Then I give her what she needs and mesh my mouth against her pussy and taste every inch of her until she’s circling against me. With the flat of my tongue, I ready her for my invasion. Relentlessly, I continue until she reaches for the pinnacle of bliss. Until she throws her head back, clutching the headboard.