Criminal Pleasures

By Darien Cox

When young attorney Brendan Burke opens his first law practice in a new city, he knows things are about to change in his life—though he never expected one of those things to be getting his first serious crush on another man. But when he meets Marcello, a sexy and mysterious stranger working at a restaurant in Providence’s Little Italy, he can’t fight his compulsion to pursue him. But while Marcello is willing to let Brendan into his bedroom, he’s stubbornly elusive about his past and his family. Fixated on discovering the truth, Brendan’s passion for Marcello turns out to be far more dangerous than he ever anticipated.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darien Cox
• Release date: Nov 27, 2013
• ISBN: 9781311769572

Darien Cox

Author Darien Cox lives in New England and enjoys using romantic fiction to explore the intensity, insanity, humor, and chaos that accompanies cupid’s arrow. http://dariencox.com/

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Criminal Pleasures

Darien Cox

Criminal Pleasures Copyright © Darien Cox 2013

Cover art by Skyla Dawn Cameron

SMASHWORDS EDITION

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Chapter One

Brendan lingered inside the front lobby of the restaurant while the hostess went to prepare their table. When the door opened behind him with a gust of cool September air, he turned and smiled at the two young women who stepped in with a flurry of laughter. There you guys are, he said. I thought you stood me up.

Hell no, you’re paying! Hey, this place is sweet. Terry Ann looked appreciatively around at the décor.

Romantic and cozy, Bibeta’s Garden was dimly lit, with shiny black tables accented with blood red tiles. Muted amber lamps and bucolic paintings hung along Tuscan brick walls. Down a few steps to their left was a long bar with high-back stools, the same polished black as the tables. A pair of well-dressed couples and a cluster of older Italian men sat at the bar sipping drinks, deep in conversation. Opera music played softly in the background, and Brendan sighed contentedly. He needed this after the work week he’d had.

His stomach growled at the enticing, garlicky smells that clouded the air. He’d never been to Bibeta’s Garden, but Jeremy, his paralegal and the only local in the office, had praised it. Jeremy declined to join them however due to a prior engagement. Brendan suspected he deemed himself too cool to hang out with the boss on a Friday night, free meal or not.

The boss. It would be a while before he got used to the title.

I’m starving, Willa said, stepping up and peering past them into the dining room. Must have been all that slave labor today.

Brendan gave her a pointed smirk, which elicited more giggles. Both girls were in their early twenties, not long out of college, and both were very small. When they first arrived at the new office last week, he’d felt like a giant, his six foot frame towering over their petite bodies. But they were a pair of tiny dynamos, tirelessly helping him do everything from setting up computer systems to putting together cabinets. Slave drivers don’t take their slaves out to dinner, he said.

"You’re a nice slave driver," Terry Ann said, giving him the enormous, dimpled grin she wore most of the time. Brendan was a happy guy, but he didn’t smile as easily or as often as Willa and Terry Ann, which he attributed to their age. While he wasn’t a huge stretch older, the younger girls’ easy happiness made him think of days past. He supposed everyone’s smile wilted a bit as the years went by and life’s stress cut through the gossamer, carefree hopefulness of youth.

He also suspected that Terry Ann had a crush on him, though it seemed harmless enough and didn’t affect her professionalism. He’d noticed her staring at him often while they were busy setting up the offices, her fair cheeks flushing when he caught her eye. Brendan wasn’t vain, though some misinterpreted his wiseass personality as overconfidence. It was mostly an act, and anyone with a sense of humor understood that. He wasn’t full of himself or in love with himself, but he was used to women developing crushes on him. He was smart enough to realize it was mostly about his looks, and didn’t take it to heart that he was anything special. Though Terry Ann was his first employee to get a crush on him, he felt he could handle it with the right balance of caution and humor.

Terry Ann had short black hair and beautiful Asian features, but with her pale skin and green eyes he couldn’t determine her precise racial origins, and sure as hell wasn’t going to ask. Willa was auburn-haired and freckled with a cute round face that made her look even younger than she was. Having grown up in the shadow of his father, Brendan wasn’t used to being the old guy of a group, but while only twenty-nine, he knew that on some level the girls must see him that way. Perhaps they didn’t view him as old, but he was a step removed from their social stratosphere, and though they teased and flirted with him, he was still an authority figure to them. Off limits.

The girls were to be clerks in his new law office, though he hadn’t actually been the one to hire them. His father had sent them down from the Boston office, an unexpected and initially irritating detail. He’d thought he’d be choosing all of his own staff, go figure. Though his father claimed Brendan would be running the Providence branch of Burke and Associates, he could still feel the old man’s puppeting hand up his ass. But he was trying hard not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Most of his fellow law grads were clinging to the low rung on some other practice’s ladder, and Brendan wasn’t oblivious to his good fortune.

The hostess returned and led them to a cozy table at the center of the dining room. Brendan thought of his mother, who’d always insist on being moved to a better table if sat in the middle of the room, like it was a personal insult to her. He grinned with the knowledge that despite running an offshoot of his father’s law office, he was out from under his parents’ thumb now. A new city, a new life, and he’d get to live it his way for a change.

A pretty olive-skinned waitress with flowing black hair brought menus and they ordered drinks, a beer for Brendan and chocolate martinis for the girls. When the martinis arrived in enormous glasses, each with a sidecar, Brendan raised his eyebrows at his giggling employees. Which one of you is driving?

Relax, boss man, Willa said, taking a sip of the creamy brown drink. My boyfriend is picking us up later, and we plan to take full advantage of your hospitality until then.

Well good, he said. Make sure to order the most expensive dish on the menu, so you can remember it when you’re cursing my name after the office gets busy. He took a sip of beer. "At least I hope it’ll get busy."

It will. Terry Ann grinned. "Your father talked you up. Says you’re almost as good a lawyer as he is."

Brendan laughed. No comment.

They ordered dinner and the conversation turned to things of a personal nature like Willa’s boyfriend, Terry Ann’s cat, and their thoughts on various films and musical groups. He had to admit he was pleased with his father’s choice of clerks, the girls were so amiable and he had a good chemistry with them already. His laughter mingled with theirs as the alcohol hit his blood and everyone began to relax.

But Brendan was suddenly rendered silent when a young man came by with a tray and set a basket of bread and olive oil down on the table. The girls continued to chatter as Brendan stared, his mouth going dry. In soft black slacks and a tight fitting black tee shirt, a white apron tied around his waist, he was the most striking figure Brendan had ever seen. He looked to be around Brendan’s age, but it was hard to determine with that golden olive skin, so smooth and perfect. His body was lean and tight, tanned biceps popping out below the short sleeves.

Terry Ann and Willa didn’t seem to notice the busboy, or Brendan’s silence, as he watched the man walk away, his eyes discreetly following his movements. The gorgeous young man gathered up glasses and leftover dinner plates from the next table, piling them on a tray. Straight, chocolate brown hair streaked with strands of gold fell from a part in the middle to his jawline. His eyes were some shade of hazel, glinting gold when they caught the light, like the highlights in his hair. He could have been a model, Brendan thought, but he lacked the delicate litheness, his body too solid and strong looking. Something about him gave off an aura of coarseness, a strange contrast to his startling beauty. He held his jaw stiff as he worked, and there was a coiled tightness to his shoulders, like he was bracing for a fight.

The man glanced up suddenly, and his pale brown eyes caught Brendan’s. His gaze was intense and alert, like he was tuned in to everything in the room and could feel Brendan watching him. In seconds, the aproned Adonis appeared to size him up, his eyes doing a quick scan of Brendan’s shirt and loosened tie, the beer in his hand, then flicking over to the girls before he turned abruptly and left the dining room.

Shaking himself, Brendan turned his attention back to Willa and Terry Ann, just as their waitress arrived and set enormous, steaming plates in front of them.

Brendan looked down at his meal and inhaled garlic and basil, his mouth watering.

I need a glass of red wine! Willa said.

Good idea. Brendan smiled and cocked an eyebrow. How about we order a bottle? We are breaking ground, after all.

Yay! Terry Ann pushed the wine list toward him.

Brendan chose a cabernet from the list and handed it to the waitress, who beamed, clearly pleased with the money they were spending. While they waited for the wine, the girls dug into their meals appreciatively, but despite his hunger, Brendan merely picked at his tortellini, his stomach fluttering with unfamiliar nerves. His reaction to the gorgeous restaurant worker had left him stunned and thoughtful, and while the feeling was not unpleasant, it was unexpected. He’d convinced himself over the past few years that he wasn’t actually bisexual, that the few drunken make-out sessions he’d enjoyed with men back in college were a fluke, a youthful curiosity fueled mostly by alcohol. The brief liaisons he’d had in law school and in the years since were always with women. Yet he’d convinced himself that women were his thing. He still looked at men on occasion, but...

But I’m not really bisexual.

The internal affirmation came easily and instantly, practiced with repetition.

Brendan flinched and dropped his fork as the magnetic guy returned to their table once again, this time carrying a bottle of wine. The fork ricocheted off the edge of the table and landed on the floor. Brendan frowned down at it. Great.

Willa cackled. Hey butterfingers, can’t handle your liquor?

Brendan grinned, nodding. I meant to do that, I swear.

He tried to avoid looking at the man who set down their wine glasses. He stood right beside Brendan as he uncorked the bottle. Brendan could sense his body heat and caught a slight whiff of spicy cologne.

Warm fingers touched Brendan’s wrist, and he had to struggle not to jump as he looked up at the busboy.

I’ll bring you another fork, he said, smiling down at Brendan, his words edged with a soft Italian accent. Here, you tell me how the wine is. He poured a dollop of wine into Brendan’s glass, watching him expectantly.

Brendan lifted the glass, pleased that his hand wasn’t shaking, and took a slow sip. The wine was delicious, but he was too nervous to really taste it properly, so he waited a few seconds and nodded, setting his glass down. Perfect. Thank you.

He was rewarded with a quick smile before those beautiful tanned arms stretched across the table to fill the women’s glasses. Then he retreated again, and Brendan struggled not to turn and watch his ass as he walked away.

It’s good, Terry Ann said, then raised her glass. To Burke and Associates. Providence branch.

May it not crash and burn, Brendan said before clinking glasses with the girls.

And to Brendan Burke, the best boss for taking us out tonight, Terry Ann added. And feeding us drinks.

Brendan laughed. "You guys are the best. I know it’s been a tough week, so enjoy."

They commenced with eating and talking, and Brendan was slightly disappointed when it was the pretty waitress, and not his Italian god who discretely set a new fork down beside him. While he quipped with the girls, he stole glances around the restaurant, but the man seemed to have vanished, causing him to briefly wonder if he’d imagined him. He was too unnerving, the effect he had on Brendan too powerful, too strange. He’d never responded this way to a man, even the pretty jocks he’d rolled around with years back. He’d enjoyed the drunken tumbles, but had never been undone by a man this way.

But I’m not actually bisexual. He knew he’d have to rethink that logic, but tucked it away for later pondering, when his nerves weren’t doing a jig and making him drop forks.

He studied Willa and Terry Ann as they enjoyed their food. They were young, healthy, heterosexual women, yet he’d seen no reaction in them to the young man in question. He downed his wine too fast, and feeling emboldened, asked, So did you girls get a look at the guy who brought our wine?

They glanced around. Which one is he? Willa asked.

I didn’t really notice, Terry Ann said. Was he cute?

Brendan chuckled. Well, I figured you girls would have thought so.

Willa is in love, she’s blind to other men now, Terry Ann said.

I notice other men! Willa shrugged, grinning. Just not so much these days since I have the perfect man at home.

Whipped, Terry Ann muttered.

Jealous? Willa responded.

Do you live with your boyfriend? Brendan asked.

Yep, he moved down here with me. He got a job at...

Willa continued speaking but her words drifted off in a haze as Brendan fell into his own thoughts. So it was just him. The girls hadn’t even noticed the guy. He was baffled. He was certain he’d just encountered the most mind-blowingly attractive person he’d ever seen. And they hadn’t even looked at him. But his petite colleagues were drinking like rugby players, they’d likely not have noticed if a unicorn came by to pour them wine.

"Besides, Terry Ann’s too busy looking at you," Willa said.

Brendan looked up, raising his eyebrows.

Terry Ann gave Willa a death stare, her pointed green eyes blazing as her cheeks flushed red. I am not! Don’t be a jerk.

Willa cackled. Lighten up! I didn’t say you were in love with him, but come on. The boss is hot.

Oh, please, Brendan said. I only look good after a couple of drinks, he joked, sympathetic to Terry Ann’s obvious humiliation.

Willa pointed her fork at him as she swallowed a bite of pasta. We decided you look like a prince.

Willa... Terry Ann nudged her hard.

What? He does, she said, a slight slur in her voice.

Brendan grinned. "A prince?"

Yeah. Willa took a sip of wine. We decided you look like one of those Egyptian princes or something.

Egyptians aren’t blond, Terry Ann said, rolling her eyes.

Willa turned to her. What did you say, then? You said he looks like—

Drop it, Terry Ann muttered, casting another harsh glance at Willa.

Like a Disney prince! Willa said. That was it.

Brendan’s head fell back as he laughed. He looked at Terry Ann, who avoided his eyes. So you’re saying I look like a cartoon?

No! She glanced at him. That’s not what I meant, I meant...you know. Like a fairytale prince. Oh, never mind! Terry Ann flushed darker. "Willa wasn’t supposed to tell you that. Sorry. We were just joking around."

Well, that would make my father the king, Brendan said. "And though he does try to run my life, I’d defect to a cave if the old man had that much power."

Terry Ann smiled at him, seeming relieved that he’d deflected the attention from her. Your dad’s not so bad, she said.

You weren’t raised by him. He’s pretty bad.

They giggled in response, and he determined that getting his young associates drunk would not be a regular occurrence in the future. He was certain Willa would regret her loose lips and Terry Ann would likely want to kill her come Monday morning. He didn’t want tension in the workplace before the office even got up and running.

Speaking of princes, where did my busboy go?

But through the rest of dinner, then a luscious dessert of cannoli and espresso, he didn’t spot him again in the dining room. He was both relieved and disappointed. He’d simply forget about this night, and the alluring stranger who jumbled his thoughts and made his pulse race. It was an anomaly, stress from setting up the office all week. Or maybe the beer was too strong here. Something. Anything. He’d need his concentration and focus in the coming weeks, and dreaming about hazel eyes and soft, sun-streaked brown hair was not on the schedule.

Willa’s boyfriend arrived at the restaurant to retrieve them, a wiry, tattooed young guy who shook Brendan’s hand awkwardly. Brendan bid the girls goodnight, then sat alone at the table as he signed for the check. His eyes searched the restaurant for the object of his desire, but it had gotten late and it was Friday night, so Bibeta’s Garden was jam packed with diners and scurrying wait staff, and he could see little through the crowd.

Are you all set with that?

Brendan looked up at the waitress, an idea coming to him. It wasn’t a good idea, but he went ahead with it. He offered her his winning smile as he handed over the check. Can I ask you a question?

She paused, a flash of confusion in her expression, then a smile. Oh, um...sure!

One of the young women I was with tonight expressed interest in the man who served our wine. I know this is silly, but you don’t happen to know if he’s single? He laughed and shrugged, hoping to emphasize how silly it all was to him. What are you gonna do? Girls will be girls.

The waitress’s shoulders immediately relaxed and she laughed loudly, nodding. Oh yes, that’s Marcello. Isn’t he gorgeous? He’s my cousin and we all love him, but he can be a bit...cranky. He doesn’t like anyone discussing his personal business. Doesn’t like questions. She rolled her eyes. I’m sorry, you’ll have to ask him yourself, I can’t give out information about him.

No, I understand, wouldn’t want to get you in trouble.

Marcello. Brendan smiled at the name, wanting to test it out on his lips. He had shameful visions of himself running through the streets West Side Story style, shouting it at the top of his lungs. And with that humiliating image, he sobered and reined himself in. Thank you, anyway. What’s your name?

I’m Carmen.

Brendan gave her another megawatt grin as he stood and slipped on his jacket. I’m Brendan, and thank you, Carmen. The food was excellent, I’ll definitely be back soon.

"We’d love to have you, grazie."

Brendan made his way back to the lobby, scheming thoughts whispering in the back of his mind. He could come back. Perhaps see him again, even speak to him. But when? If he came too soon... What if Carmen saw him and figured out he was the one interested in Marcello the Mysterious? Brendan was new in town and starting a business, this was not the way he wanted to present himself. I will not stalk a busboy. I will not stalk a busboy.

He exited the restaurant, a cool breeze clearing his head as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Pausing a moment, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and took a deep breath. Neon signs up and down the street advertised bakeries and other Italian eateries, pedestrians walking the streets and ducking into the many establishments.

As he turned to head toward his car, Brendan spotted him on the sidewalk.

Marcello.

The busboy leaned against the wall on a cell phone, just outside the doorway of Bibeta’s Garden, one arm tucked under his chest. The apron was gone, and he wore a loose, gray knit hat, wisps of brown hair peeking out around his jawline.

Brendan was unaware that he’d stopped dead on the sidewalk, until Marcello’s eyes shifted his way.

"I