Read For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5) Online
Authors: Soraya Naomi
Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary Romance, #the syndicate, #New adult, #bestsellers, #mafia romance, #possessive hero, #romantic suspense, #crime boss, #the cosa nostra, #Organized Crime, #true love, #hea, #alpha male, #love story
For Logan (Chicago Syndicate Book 5)
For Logan
Chicago Syndicate, Volume 5
Soraya Naomi
Published by Soraya Naomi, 2016.
This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.
FOR LOGAN
First edition. August 27, 2016.
Copyright © 2016 Soraya Naomi.
Written by Soraya Naomi.
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“The magic of first love is our ignorance that it can never end.” ~ Benjamin Disraeli.
Rosalia
––––––––
“F
orgive me, Father, for I have sinned,” I confess in the small booth and shut my eyes, causing two tears to roll down my cheeks in regret.
Sometimes we take risks and they don’t play out as we expected, but it’s better to regret something you
did
do than to regret something you
didn’t
do. Living with
what could’ve been
is far worse.
“You haven’t sinned,” a familiar, deep voice comments.
My gaze shoots up to the lattice screen in time to see Logan exiting the compartment. He yanks open my door, and I’m met with stormy, sapphire eyes – the color of a cloudless sky – that have haunted my dreams for many nights as he steps forward, but I push him out of the confessional with both of my palms on his hard chest.
“Where have you been?” I demand, wiping my tears away angrily.
As my vision clears, I’m astounded by how much he reminds me of the man I fell in love with. His navy dress shirt is tucked into his slacks, showing off his toned torso. Nonetheless, this is the man who is my Heaven and my Hell. My current Hell; but the time we lived in Heaven together isn’t easily forgotten.
He studies me for a long moment, as if I’m a figment of his imagination. Then he runs his fingers through his dirty blond hair and messes up the strands, making him much too appealing in his anguish.
“Rosa,” he says in a tormented tone. Reaching for me, he cups the back of my head and threads his fingers through my long black hair.
His sandalwood cologne invades my nostrils and brings back memories that are best left in some dusty corner of my mind. He lowers his forehead to mine, and I clutch his shirt as the passion he incites in me still pumps furiously through my veins. While we stare at each other, his thumb strokes the dimple on my cheek.
“I should hate you,” I mumble, confused.
“No. I’ve come to explain.”
“Explain what? You broke my heart and left. Everything’s ruined!”
“I had to leave to set things straight and make sure I didn’t get killed in the process, Rosa,” he snarls. Yet, in a softer tone, he adds, “But I had to see if you’re okay.”
We’re standing face-to-face, and as he tilts my head up, I recognize the flame of love in his dark irises. As usual, we lose control the second his mouth slants over mine. Logan’s lips urge mine apart, guiding me hungrily into his masterful kiss. He commands my emotions with the heat of his touch. One large hand covers my ass while he palms my head, and on their own accord, my arms wind around his neck. Our teeth clash and our tongues dance in a teasing foray – desperately recapturing a love that others tried to extinguish.
Growling, he lifts me up into his arms effortlessly. My jade knee-length dress rides up my hips when I hook my legs around him before he carries me to the church’s elevated altar, surrounded by devotional statues and lit candles. I’m shoved onto the two-step carpeted stairs in front of the altar while we grind into each other.
Logan nips a path up my throat as I gaze up at the painted angels on the dome ceiling, and he pulls my lips between his teeth, biting the corner of my mouth.
“I need to fuck you,” he groans huskily, pressing his rock-hard erection against me.
We’re both breathing heavily, forgetting where we are – in the Parish of the Blessed, in the middle of the day, with people inside the sacristy.
This is what he’s done to me. Even after everything, I’m unable to deny him. I’ve chosen to plummet into a world of sensual awakening with him once before, and I’m choosing it again.
We’ve always been reckless. We’ve broken a family apart. And now, we’re tempted to fuck in the church where the wedding will take place in less than twenty-four hours.
Rosalia
––––––––
T
he beat of the drum fades away in this crowded bar in the downtown Loop of Chicago as my older half-sister, Cam, and I follow her impeccably dressed – and furious – boyfriend, Adriano.
“Take Rosalia home,” Adriano instructs Wade, who’s seated in a booth with a stunning woman.
I don’t need an escort. I’m twenty-one years old and not a teenager anymore. Yet I wink at Cam as Adriano hauls her out of the bar. She’ll calm him down. He always overreacts when it comes to Cam, but I know it stems from a good place – it’s endearing.
Unfortunately, I’m left with the frustratingly handsome Richard Wade. His sapphire eyes are pinned on me – eyes that are rimmed with a darker line around his irises and dirty blond, almost brown, lashes that match his hair. It’s impossible to ignore his gaze when it’s settled on you. He has an undeniable appeal; a squared jaw and a wide, confident mouth. Clearly, he’s not happy to have to escort me home since he doesn’t react, doesn’t speak, doesn’t even nod. He just looks away and talks to his lady friend.
She murmurs something into his ear, and he gives her a devilish grin. There’s always a naughty edge to how he engages the women around him, as if he’s entertained by the ones who think they’ll change him. It’s that sinfully playful behavior of his that makes him an unattainable bachelor, and it seems like every woman he meets wants to screw him. Frankly, it’s tiresome.
After he gives me the brush-off, I simply ignore him too. He’ll come get me when he’s ready to leave. I don’t even know who this Wade guy is. He’s just been hanging around with the family a lot lately. The handful of times I’ve seen him, we’ve never really talked. This is the second time he’s had to help me, and I think he truly sees me as a nuisance.
“Assface,” I mutter under my breath before turning on my heel.
“I heard that,” he remarks.
I spin around, caught off guard. Wade hasn’t moved his attention away from his date, and I stare at the back of his head.
“I meant for you to,” I retort and strut away, refusing to give him the last word.
Still, I look back over my shoulder once, grinning when his head whips around and he glowers at me.
Now I’m going to enjoy my night. I’m able to peer over the swarm of people since I’m quite tall – I never have to wear heels, thank goodness – and make my way through the crowd.
Again, I run into Mykhail, who has a guy slammed against the door of the men’s room. He’s the reason why Adriano was so mad; he saw Cam and me trying to talk to him. Almost four months ago, Mykhail – who
was
my college friend – spiked my drink with ecstasy after we’d visited his father’s sex club in secret.
“Why so protective?” the guy asks Mykhail, and I close the distance between us.
“Because Rosalia was my friend and you don’t drug her, asshole!” Mykhail shouts, causing me to frown. He releases him harshly and then discovers me.
“So you didn’t drug me?” I ask him as the other guy scrambles off.
“No, I didn’t. But Adriano threatened me to stay away, so I never got the chance to explain.”
“Then tell me now.”
“I didn’t drug you. Why would I agree to take my friend to my father’s sex club and drug her there?”
“But you left with some blonde. And when I finished my drink, it had obviously been spiked.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t leave with the blonde. She was one of the hostesses and wanted to give me a message from my father, who wasn’t happy I brought you with me when he found out who you were. I went looking for you, but you were gone and didn’t answer my texts. The next day, some of Adriano’s soldiers threatened me.”
“I thought you’d left me alone at the sex club. I had to call Cam to help me. It made me feel
this
small.” I hold my thumb and pointer finger close together.
That night has always bothered me, and it hurts to think that someone close to me would do such a thing.
“I get that,” he admits, sending me a seemingly honest, remorseful look. “I also sometimes feel young and insignificant with my father.”
I lean back against the wall next to him to let people pass. Although tempted to believe Mykhail, my family will never allow a friendship between us again. “You know how it is with our families. They’re overprotective, traditional, and barely tolerate outside friends.”
I do miss him, and he’s my only friend who knows the entire truth about my family. We’re both part of Chicago’s mafia elite. Mykhail’s father is the boss of the Ukrainian mafia. Adriano, my sister’s boyfriend, is the boss of the Italian mafia, the Chicago Syndicate as they call it. In addition, my father, James, used to be boss but is now one of Adriano’s counselors. And my sister, Cam, is a captain, so-called
Capo
, in the Syndicate.
All of a sudden, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Slipping it out of my jeans, I see that I’ve received several messages from my parents.
Mom: Where are you, Rosalia?
Dad: Your mother is trying to reach you. Pick up your phone, Rosalia.
I type
on my way home
back to my dad to avoid never-ending discussions and stash the device in my pocket. My father has always been way overprotective, but I didn’t know about his mafia connections until I was sixteen and couldn’t even go out until I was eighteen. I wanted to move to campus but wasn’t allowed to leave, so my parents gave me the pool house as a compromise. I have to be good Rosalia in their eyes; the girl who goes to college and church and will marry a nice Italian man.
“Our relatives do like to complicate matters,” Mykhail says as a despondent smile creeps across his face, and he starts apologizing again until I tell him to stop.
At that moment, Wade comes toward us, navigating his way smoothly, dressed to entice women in his pressed, navy dress shirt and slacks, complemented with a pair of brown shoes and matching suede belt. His sleeves are casually folded up to his elbows, exposing his toned forearms. He’s the kind of man who exudes a compelling mixture of wicked charisma and lethal sensuality. Even his blond hair is tempting; always a bit messy on top, yet still neat. He projects quite the commanding presence.
Dryly, he says to Mykhail, “Do you
want
to have your cock shot off by Adriano?”
Aggravated that he’s not minding his own business, I reply, “I’m handling this. Thank you.”
He raises his brows in amusement. Though I also sense his displeasure with me. “Thank you? Are you dismissing me?” he says, blanketing me in his fresh sandalwood cologne as he takes one step forward, invading my personal space, which I hate.
Furthermore, he’s one of the few men who makes me feel small since he’s well over six feet tall.
“You’re not handling this at all, and again, I have to come to your rescue.” While holding my gaze captive, he speaks to Mykhail, “Get lost.”
Mykhail catches my eyes for a split-second and I nod, so he obeys orders. I duck and skirt around Wade, who rotates and grabs my arm from behind, stopping and turning me.
