Unprotected with the Mob Boss: A Dark Mafia Romance (Alekseiev Bratva) by Fox, Nicole (classic books for 12 year olds .TXT) 📗

But after that employee’s reaction to her and seeing her gaze straight at this man like anything he’s saying could be vaguely important, I know I need to play my part better. Someone who has been dating Ally for the last six months wouldn’t let these men keep looking at her and monopolizing her attention.

He’d want her so immensely, he’d take her for his own.

I walk up to her. The blond stops talking but Ally barely notices until I’ve wrapped my arm under her arms and slipped my arm under her knees, scooping her up. One of her shoes flips off as she yelps, grabbing onto the front of my shirt.

“What—” she starts.

“Sorry,” I say, cutting her off to talk to the man. “I need to build a castle with my girlfriend.”

I stride back to the beach with Ally in my arms. She glares at me.

“What the hell was that?” she asks. “Is this your version of flirting?”

I drop her feet in the sand. She stumbles. I grab her arm, but she lets herself drop onto the sand. Her fingers wrap around my wrist as she smiles and yanks me down with her.

I collide into her, my hand slamming near her hip and our mouths close enough that I can smell the alcohol on her breath. My lips press against hers, forcing her lips open. The vigilant part of my mind can hear the crowd rumbling with disgust and intrigue over us, but as her hands slip under my waistband—where the Glock would have been if I’d taken it with me—nothing matters but the warmth under me.

I pull back, caressing the side of her face. As I look straight at her, all I can think is how badly I want her to surrender herself to me and how badly I want to surrender myself to her.

I settle down beside her as the crowd surrounds the firepit. She keeps an arm behind me while I keep my hand on her thigh. She jumps at the sound of a bang. My body tenses, my pulse taking off like a rocket, but as I see the hotel employee with an opened bottle of champagne, the bubbles flowing out onto his hand, and Ally rests her head on my chest, my pulse slows and all of the memories of guns dim from my mind. I wrap my arm around her waist as glasses of champagne are handed out.

The older man who announced that dinner was going to be served—Police Commissioner Keith Holman, appointed by Mayor Coleman nearly two years ago, a husband and father of three children, and who occasionally makes surreptitious nighttime visits to the apartment of patrol officer Karen Brost—raises his champagne glass. Everyone follows suit.

“Here is a toast to all of our brothers in blue and to all of you who spend your hard-earned money to ensure the safety of this city.” His words are a bit soft at the edges and his eyes are glazed. My research into him never mentioned alcoholism, but it’s easier to hide than most people think. “Here’s to a future where all of our children are safe, where our officers are safe, and where we can live our lives without fear. Let’s raise our glasses to a better future and for everyone who contributes to that.”

Several people holler and clap. Everyone raises their glass higher in celebration before clinking their glasses against everyone’s glasses beside them. Since Ally and I are the only ones on the ground, we clink our glasses with each other. She puts her hand on my arm before I can take a sip and gives me a quick kiss.

“I don’t regret it,” she whispers. She drinks her champagne before I can ask her what she means. As we set our glasses down, there’s a whistling sound before the first firework goes off. Bright blue fills the skyline. Several more whistling echoes follow as fireworks start going off in quick succession. Red, white, and blue are common color bursts, but occasionally they throw in orange, green, or turquoise.

Ally moves closer to me, her arms wrapped around my waist. I scan the crowd, but I don’t see her parents. I bow my head against her hair and kiss near her ear. She turns, looking up at me, a genuine smile bursting on her face.

“You’re an amazing woman,” I tell her. “And I will carry you when you’re too drunk to walk to the car.”

She laughs. “Ah of course, you’d use my own words against me.”

“It doesn’t mean two people in love wouldn’t also be fucking constantly.”

“You might be right,” she says, tapping her finger against my nose. I pretend to bite at her finger. She giggles. “Because I’ve wanted to be under you all night.”

She leans back, lying down on the sand. Her eyes are closed, her chest rising and falling with every breath.

I slip my hand into my pocket. I pull out the small wooden box, a sun and a brown bear carved into it. I flick it open and take out the ring. According to the lapidary, it’s a princess-cut engagement ring. All I know is that the price tag would convince anybody that I’m highly invested in this relationship.

As I take her hand, a smile curves onto her lips but she doesn’t open her eyes. I slide the ring onto her finger. Her eyes open and she sits up.

“I thought we were going to wait until morning to do this,” she says, staring at the ring.

“I changed my mind,” I say. “I wanted all these other men to know you’re claimed, so there’s no confusion later.”

“Other men?” she asks.

“Your father. The other policemen. The blond fucker I kidnapped you from,” I say.

She smiles before kissing me, soft and filled with promise. “You’re cute when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” I say. “I just think other people should know what’s mine.”

“Jealous,” she repeats, laughing.

I kiss her, harsh