| BOOK ONE OF THE VENANDI SAGA | A DARK MAFIA ROMANCE |
Teeth scrape over skin as he nips at my earlobe, "I told you..." Threading his fingers through the strands at my nape, he rolls my head to the side and his lips continue their exploration, "...
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"Great, and you're sure you can have it ready within the hour?" I ask, digging through my stores of nylons.
"Yes, ma'am," an enthusiastic clerk cheerfully assures. "We'll send a housekeeping unit up there right away. Would you like us to stock anything in the fridge?"
"Hmmm... Would it be possible to get some cherry cokes-Oh! ...and a bottle of Maker's 46?"
"Absolutely. I'll see it's taken care of."
Beaming, "Perfect," I pry my favorite pair of black thigh-highs loose from the jumbled pile of nude, cream and navy. "Make it for two nights, please."
"Certainly..." While she click-clacks away, rattling off the details of my reservation, I bustle about shoving my favorite staples of lycra and vintage cotton into the weekender duffel at the foot of my bed. Queen, Pink Floyd and a threadbare Empire Strikes Back tee sit atop rumpled leggings, spare panties, and one prized Cubs hoodie. It's more than enough to get me through a couple of days. Especially since...
Where we're going... we don't need clothes.
"Yeah," Crotch-chopping my way through a mini victory thrust, I rumble, "I'm gonna throw you in my DeLorean and gun it to eighty-eig-"
"Uhem..." the faceless voice interjects. "Ms. Elliott?"
"Yo," I blurt, frozen mid-chop.
"You're all set."
"Great! Uhhh... Thanks! Ummm..."
"Marlow... Call me Mads." She chirps in a southern, sing-song soprano.
"Thank you, Mads. I appreciate all your help."
"It's my pleasure, Ms. Elliott. Will there be anything else? ...A valet pass for your DeLorean, perhaps?"
"Ah-Haha! Mmmm..." Cringing, my nose crinkles and I prattle, "No. I... I don't have a-uhem... a DeLorean. I was just-uhh... quoting a movie. Valet won't be-well... maybe... Probably. Kole will need to park his-You know what?" I reset, too late, "Now that I think about it, go ahead and-"
"It's been added to your account," she apprises. "Compliments of the hotel."
"Excellent! We look forward to receiving you, Ms. Elliott!" Suddenly, her voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper, and she confides, "Between you and me, I've always had a thing for Marty McFly. Something about that red puffer vest. Oof." Pitching to her normal octave she croons, "Okay, then! If that's all, we'll see you soon," and the receiver falls silent to the dulcet hum of Huey Lewis' Power of Love buzzing in my ears.
Tossing my cell to the bed, "That went well," I scoop up the last of my overnight essentials.
At the same time, Raphe barks from downstairs, "Eden! We have to go! Now!"
