Savage Sinner: An Enemies To Lovers Russian - Italian Dark Mafia Romance (Sinfully Savage Mafia)

He turns to give me a quick look. “I was just saying that everyone needs a little bit of Vegas every once in a while, even The Golden Girls. Must make them feel younger, zippier, peppier.” He flashes a sidelong glance at me. “You don’t like to talk, but you’re not so great with the listening thing, either. Just saying.”

“Sorry, I’m just a little preoccupied.” I tap my fingers on the screen of my phone, anxious to find out more details about this job. Uncle Boris told me to call him once I was settled at the hotel and he’d give me the details.

“Hey, I didn’t ask you where you’re going,” Gio says as he pulls off of the interstate heading toward the Vegas Strip.

“You didn’t.”

“I also didn’t ask your name.”

“Right again,” I say. “You look a lot smoother than you actually are, just in case you were wondering.”

“I don’t get out much.”

“I find that highly unlikely,” I say with an eye roll. “But fine, I’ll play. My name is Anya and I’m headed to the Bellagio.”

“The Bellagio?” he snips. “Why the hell would you go to that shithole?”

“Because that’s where my reservation is,” I say. “Why do you think it’s a shithole? It’s gorgeous!”

“It’s so fucking twenty years ago!”

I snicker. “You sound like a hotel snob.”

“I just know what I like,” he says, slowing to a stop at a light. He winks at me, a wicked twinkle in the depths of his bright blue eyes. “Now, Anya, what are your plans while you’re here in town?” He pulls the Ferrari into the long driveway leading up to the Bellagio and slows next to the curb, the red and gold overhang packed with people and cars and rolling luggage carts.

“Well, the plan is to nail an upcoming job interview.” I stare at him, hard, my eyes searching for any sign of recognition in his expression.

Nada.

What the hell?

My ass, he doesn’t get out much.

Guys who don’t get out much would definitely remember something about the face and body of a girl they hooked up with the night before!

“Then what?”

My breath hitches as his blue eyes darken and he leans toward me the slightest bit. “Then I guess I’d start work.”

“You gonna be shacking up here for long?” he asks, nodding at the hotel.

“I guess I’ll find out in a few hours,” I murmur, my eyes dropping to where his fingers sit on the floor shift. Such long, thick fingers. I remember them so very well…

“I guess I will, too,” he says with a smile that makes my heart hammer against my chest. What does that even mean? And why do I even care? I have one objective while I’m out here… and it doesn’t include this guy.

Or any guy, for that matter!

I have to keep my head focused.

Uncle Boris needs me. I have to do this for him…and for Maks.

I need to remember who I am and what is expected of me.

I don’t have the luxury of getting tangled up in some hot guy’s web.

I’m the black widow, for fuck’s sake!

Then Gio backs against his door, shoves it open and hops out, stopping to grab my bags from the trunk. Then he jogs around to my side and pulls open the passenger door. When he holds out his hand to help me out of the car, despite myself, I take it. The immediate electrical current that shoots up my arm almost makes me gasp as I step onto the cobblestones.

Holy crap, he had to have felt that!

I place my hands on his arms, stepping toward him, completely consumed by his fiery irises. I can feel his biceps tense under my fingertips and his hands move to my hips, seemingly oblivious to the hustle and bustle around us.

We’re standing in our own little blissful bubble, caught in each other’s gazes, his still searching…still questioning.

But I don’t have to question.

I already know.

“Excuse me, you’re going to have to move that car,” an intruding valet voice shatters the carnal haze that has since settled in, but I’m not ready to let it dissipate quite yet.

“Yeah, in a min—” Gio starts to say, but I swallow his next words when I grab his head by the back of his neck and crush my lips against his.

A rush of heat blasts through my insides, just as it did last night, when he moves his hands to the sides of my face and plunges his devious tongue into my greedy mouth. He drinks me in like we’re in the middle of the desert and I’m a tall glass of ice cold water.

Funny.

We are in the middle of the desert.

And we both clearly have an insatiable thirst…for one another.

I run my hands down his back, the tight, muscled one that once again ripples beneath my palms as his explore the sides of my torso until the annoying-as-fuck valet pipes in with his own commentary.

“Good thing we’re at a hotel so you can get a room,” he snaps. “Now, move it!”

Gio breaks away from me, his eyes heavy with pent-up desire, and I am so tempted to forget about my interview so I can take him inside and ride him like the fucking stallion he is.

“Hey, you never told me your name,” I say breathlessly, sweeping a few stray hairs out of my eyes.

His lips curl upward. “It’s Dante,” he murmurs.

I grin back. “Like the inferno.”