Wedding Disaster – Costa Crime Family Read Online B.B. Hamel

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Crime, Erotic Tags Authors:
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Total pages in book: 78
Estimated words: 77309 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 387(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
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“Come on,” Conlan says, pulling me out of the chapel.

He’s walking fast like he can’t wait to be rid of the place.

“Slow down,” I complain, trying to keep up with his long strides. “Hold on, Con, will you just wait?”

“We need to get back to the plane. This already took longer than I wanted it to.”

“Stop it,” I snap at him once we reach the first landing.

He pauses. Sunlight streams in through a round window, brushing up against his face.

God, this man is beautiful.

And such an asshole.

“Why are you acting like we just did something wrong? Am I missing something?”

“I’m not acting like anything.”

“Yes, you are. You’re dragging me around, barking orders at that girl back there, looking at Elvis like you want to murder him—” I take a deep breath and blow it back out. “What’s the matter with you?”

He stares at me for a tense moment.

Then he turns away.

“Nothing’s wrong,” he says. “You’re my wife now. That’s what we wanted, right?”

“Right.” I cross my arms, not sure what the hell I did wrong. I’m just as frustrated as he is, but I’m not taking it out on him. “You seem like such a good partner already.”

“I’m not your partner. I’m your boss. Don’t forget that.” He starts down the steps again. “Come on.”

I hesitate. That asshole. I should turn around and march out of here. If he’s going to keep on treating me like staff then I might as well divorce his ass right now.

Except I’m not in this for a partner, or a good husband, or even to be with a halfway decent human being.

I’m in this for the money.

That’s all—nothing more.

If he wants to be moody then fine, he can be moody, but I’m not going to let him push me away.

I’ll stick it out, deal with his bullshit, and when it’s time to divorce, I’ll take my check and disappear.

He’ll never see me again.

And we’ll both be happier.

I hurry after him, determined to make this work.

Chapter 13

Conlan

That fucking kiss.

It’s all I can think about on the flight back to LA.

Her mouth pressed against mine. The way she tastes like licorice and toothpaste. Her tongue, her lips.

And that fucking noise she made.

The moan, the whimper, the gasp.

It drove me wild.

I’ve kissed a lot of women in my life. Hundreds, possibly, but I’ve never felt like this before.

I’ve never had this need in my gut that won’t shut the fuck up.

The moment I kissed her, I knew I made a huge mistake.

Because I need to hear her make that noise again or else I’m going to go insane thinking about it.

I should just tell her what I’m feeling. I consider it a dozen times on the plane, but I can’t bring myself to do it. Once she understands that I’m not kidding around, suddenly all my defenses will be down, and it won’t be just Conlan being Conlan.

No, she’ll get a glimpse of the man I keep hidden away.

I’ll keep making jokes. I’ll tease her, even flirt with her, but I won’t ever admit to how much I loved kissing her.

We land and head back to the Lincoln hotel. It’s my main property in the area—a lavish, upscale, five-star megastructure rivaling any of the Vegas casinos, only minus the card tables and slot machines. Stodgy, uptight California still outlaws gambling.

“I’ll have my driver take you back to your apartment,” I tell Isabel as we park out front. The valet comes and opens my door. “You should get your things packed.”

Her lips twist in distaste. “We’re really doing this? Living together and everything?”

“Only way it’ll work. Those private detectives are going to look into our story, and we need to make sure it remains air tight no matter what. No leaks, no fuck-ups, which means you’re my wife and you live in my house.”

She grimaces, but nods. “All right, fine.”

I go to close the door, but there’s some commotion near the front door. My chief of security, a man named Damon Ramble with a square head, square shoulders, and square chest, comes hurrying toward me.

“Mr. Costa,” he says. “There’s a problem at the front desk. I wouldn’t normally bother you with something like this—”

“Let me guess. It’s a young woman and she claims she’s here to see me.”

Damon looks visibly relieved. “Yes, sir, that’s right.”

Isabel shifts across the seats and gets out. “I’d better come. I don’t trust you to handle this gracefully.”

I give her a look but don’t argue. Damon gives me a questioning look but I only gesture for him to get moving. We follow him inside, and the second we pass through the doors, I can hear her arguing with the front desk manager.

It’s Allison Leyland, wearing a black jumpsuit, her blonde hair pulled up in a bun, and dark sunglasses. In that outfit, she could easily pass for thirty—but the moment I approach, the sunglasses come down, and I can see it. The excitement in her expression.



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