Pursued By My Mafia Husband

Chapter 8

Cassian

I pull my hand back. “I’ll look into this.”

Reyna seemed to absolutely despise her little sister.

Reyna looks frustrated, but then she nods. “Of course. That’s a smart thing to do. Just remember how subtle she is, and the impact it could be having on the other people who work here. She might make them loyal to her and then turn them against you.”

I shake my head and say, “Adam is looking into how she ended up on that flight. If he doesn’t find anything, I’ll have Liam take over and look more…forcefully. If it comes down to it, I’ll look into it myself.”

I won’t let anyone, not even my own wife, get away with sabotaging my business and putting my people at risk.

Reyna leaves. I try to work. But the guilt of knowing Gemma was in danger on that flight gnaws at me against my will.

I was supposed to be the pilot on that flight. I don’t give a s**t if my enemies come at me, but I draw the line at hurting innocents.

My brow creases as I consider who might be behind the sabotage.

Another mafia family, maybe. All of us are rich and corrupt, all vying for territory, money, and control of the police.

The government was too well paid-off for it to be one of them, though you could never totally write off some rookie who thought he was a white knight.

I rub my forehead. Some stupider minor sons of smaller families have been making moves on my territory lately, wanting to make a name for themselves. Maybe it was one of them.

Whoever it was, I will find out, and I will make an example of them. The best way to discourage violence is with greater violence of my own.

I’m not afraid to kill. Slowly. Carefully. With maximum pain. I have a reputation for ruthlessness and violence, even among the lowest of lowlifes.

It’s a reputation I earned.

I have to be willing to do whatever it takes to hold on to the empire my grandfather built.

My mind goes back to Gemma. She didn’t look injured when I saw her, but she still glared at me, all long legs, perfect body, and flashing pale-green eyes as she walked away.

To be honest, I hardly noticed the glare because I was too busy looking at the rest of her. She might be a conniving mastermind, but she’s sexy as hell.

I pull out my phone to call her and frown. Somehow, my phone has been on airplane mode all day, even though I didn’t fly. I don’t remember turning it on, but I must have.

Adam comes back in, and I forget about calling Gemma. “Well? Who put her on that flight.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know. No one I talk to seems to know exactly who set it up.”

I sighed. I’d hoped it would be easy, but I’m not surprised. Whoever did it knows the consequences will be dire.

Sometimes my reputation has its downsides.

I consider, then decide it was most likely a mistake that Gemma ended up on that flight. She was probably scared out of her mind when it almost went down.

I open the web browser on my phone and navigate to the image of an expensive designer bag, then email a link to Adam.

“Gemma was looking at this online the other day. Get it and have it sent to the house.”

If she was pissed because I hadn’t checked on her after the flight, that should solve it. What else would someone like her want from me, anyway, if not money and pretty things?

*****

When I get to the quiet, upscale house I share with Gemma, I’m surprised to see it’s dark.

It’s never dark. My unwanted wife is always fluttering around, trying to sweet talk me, doing little things for me. As if I can’t see through her.

I walk into the house. It’s silent. The conniving little mouse really must be upset. But she’s easy to placate, so whatever.

Just as I get inside, there’s a knock on the door. It’s a delivery guy with the designer bag. Adam got it here that fast, which is why he’s my assistant.

I set it on the table. I’ll give her the bag when she inevitably appears to bring me food. She always does when I stay up and work late in the home office.

A different idea came to mind—one that might soothe her.

For three years, I haven’t touched her. But damn if I don’t want to.

What would it be like to make today up to her in filthy ways? To feel her soft, supple body and hear her gasp and moan my name. To remind us both we’re alive in the best way there is. Hot, dirty s*x.

“No,” I growl out loud.

As if my c**k is going to obey.

Since marrying her, I haven’t been with anyone else. First, because now that I’m married, I can’t risk an illegitimate child.

Second, call me old fashioned, but I take that s**t seriously. Even though I know there’s no way she does.

I go into my home office, sit down at my desk, and start to work. Soon enough, Gemma will turn up with those luscious curves barely covered by her silk robe, her long, wavy auburn hair undone and tumbling loose around her and a tray of food in her hands.

Just the thought of her in that turquoise silk robe with her wide, seafoam eyes and her rosebud lips gets me hard.

What would she taste like? How would she sound when she came apart around my c**k?

Fuck.

I adjust my pants and keep working.

Later, I look at the clock. Midnight. Gemma never showed up.

The unwelcome thought comes to me that maybe she wasn’t okay after the flight. Maybe she got a head injury that didn’t manifest until later.

She could be dead or unconscious somewhere in the house right now.

The thought goads me. I rise from my desk chair and pound up the stairs to her bedroom faster than I mean to.

I push open the door and freeze at what I see.