Mob Mistress. Sheri WhiteFeather
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God.
She could see the just-do-it frustration in his eyes. But she saw something else, too. Heat. Hunger. The peril of desire.
Struggling for composure, she backed away from him, from the heart-palpitating intimacy. For what seemed like a long, drawn-out moment, their gazes locked.
No one said anything. A pin could have dropped. Finally he shifted the squirming puppy, and she glanced away.
“You like brunettes,” Tori blurted.
Justin blinked, turned, addressed her. “What?”
“They’re your favorite.”
“That’s right, they are,” he admitted, looking directly at Maya before he left the kitchen.
She went to the sink to wash her trembling hands, and Lucifer raised his demonic eyebrows at her, scolding her in silence. If he only knew.
Tori ignored them and flitted out of the room. To invite more brunettes to the party, Maya thought. To amuse Justin. To give him a smorgasbord of what he liked best.
Women who resembled the dark-haired maid.
The backyard offered an Olympic size pool, a rain forest waterfall, a barbecue island and an oasis of palm trees.
Justin sat on a chaise lounge with a plate of Japanese delicacies and a cup of sake by his side.
The experience was surreal. Kids, ranging from toddlers to teens, played in the sun, and gorgeous girls in eye-popping bikinis showed off their tans.
The bevy of brunettes, he’d learned, was for him.
Not that he was interested. He kept looking for Maya, watching the buffet table, waiting for her to replenish it.
A shadow crossed in front of him. “Are you having a good time?”
He squinted at the sun-hazed figure and realized it was Richard Halloway, his other uncle. He’d met Richard briefly last night when the other man had returned from his business trip.
Richard didn’t seem like a mobster. He wasn’t trim and tailored like Brian nor was he tough and terse like Leo. With his thinning brown hair, wire-framed glasses and slight paunch, he came off as a regular fifty-something guy.
He sat beside Justin and put his drink on a tiki-style table. “So are you?”
“Enjoying myself? Sure, why not?”
“You haven’t paid the least bit of attention to the girls Tori invited.”
Justin reached for a piece of salmon and sucked it down. He’d gotten used to the raw fish thing at the ranch. His sister was Elk Ridge’s assistant chef, and she’d encouraged him to expand his country-boy palate. “I prefer my women with a little more brain power.”
Richard laughed. “So do I. Tori’s friends are as dumb as she is. Beautiful, but as dense as dolled-up doornails.”
“What does Brian see in Tori?” Justin asked, shooting the six-foot blonde a curious glance. She was playing Marco Polo with the kids.
“Empty-headed women amuse him.” Richard leaned in close. “They create less pressure than the smarter variety.”
“I’ll still take the smart ones.”
“Me, too. Not that I’ve had much luck. I’ve been married and divorced three times.” The other man adjusted his glasses. “I heard you were engaged once.”
Justin tried not to frown. “Is there anything this family doesn’t know about me?”
“We don’t know what’s inside your soul.”
Neither do I, he thought. His emotions were still a mess. “You’re different from Brian.”
“Easier to talk to?”
And easier to like. Justin didn’t want to bond with Richard, but the younger Halloway brother had a way about him. “Is it true that the Hollywood Mob doesn’t exist anymore?” he asked, pushing the issue.
“Yes, it is. And the change has been good for me. I was never cut out for that lifestyle. Dad forced it on us. Not all mob bosses do that to their sons. In fact, most prefer to keep their kids out of it.” Richard sipped his sake. “But not our old man.”
“Why did Brian give it up?”
“Because I got shot and almost died, and he got scared. We’ve lost a lot of people we’ve loved over the years, and Brian couldn’t take losing me, too. He’s more sensitive than he seems.” Richard paused. “It was one of those defining moments. When I recovered he just looked at me and said, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ I knew exactly what he meant. It was over for me, too.”
Justin wanted to believe his uncle’s story. But Maya sneaking into his room told another tale. And so did his mom’s fragile concern. “Is the hit still active on Reed?”
Richard blew out a labored breath. “Dad won’t let it go. He’s still got connections from prison.”
“I don’t think I’m going to like my grandfather.”
“He wants to meet you. I know this sounds crazy, but he loves you already. Just being Beverly’s boy makes you special. More important than any of us.”
Justin angled his head. Had he detected a note of envy? Of rivalry? Or was it pain? “Do you still love him? Even after he forced a violent lifestyle on you?”
“I try.” Richard glanced away.
A gap of silence yawned between them.
Then Justin turned and spotted Maya adding more food to the buffet. In the sun, her tightly woven hair glistened with auburn highlights. He wanted to see it loose and free, the way it had been when she’d become his angel.
Damn it. Why hadn’t she let down her guard and admited who she was? Why hadn’t she whispered it in his ear? No, instead she’d just stood there, staring at him, making his blood rush to his groin. He’d never been this challenged by a woman before.
Richard noticed her, too. “Maya the maid,” he mused. “Sleek, sexy, off limits.” He gave Justin a serious look. “Do you always want what you can’t have?”
“Not before I met her.” He needed to find a way to get past this, to be able to talk to Maya out in the open, to earn her trust. “Why can’t I have her? What’s the big deal?”
“If we get too close to our staff, if we encourage affairs with maids or become bosom buddies with our chauffeurs, we’ll invite the wrong kind of employees. We don’t want a bunch of groupies or wannabe mobsters working for us. We’ve always had to be careful not to blur those lines.”
“Why does it matter, if you’re not involved in organized crime anymore?”
“We’re still rich and famous. And we’ll always be notorious. The Hollywood Mob will never go away. Not to the media, not to the FBI, not to anyone who doesn’t believe that we’ve gone straight.”
“I still want her.” Justin wasn’t giving up on Maya. No way, no how.
Richard chuckled. “You’re a Halloway, all right.” He shook his head, sighed. “You’ll have to convince Brian to let you have her. He runs this house. He’s the boss, and I’m the underboss. That part hasn’t changed.”
“Then I’ll talk to Brian when this party is over. I’ll do what I have to do.” To be alone with Maya, he thought. To keep his promise.
And keep her safe.
Maya knew she was in trouble. You didn’t get called into the boss’s office unless you’d done something to displease him.
She headed down the corridor, her sensible shoes squeaking on the black-and-white tiled floor. Mr.B.’s king-of-the-castle lair, with its mahogany furniture and custom-built