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“We did, and it was a one-time thing.” She smiles coolly and leans in. I lean in as well and lick my lips, desperate to taste her again.
I don’t accept that, refuse to believe it when she’s looking at me with stark hunger in her eyes. “What if I want it to happen again?”
She inches closer. “Do you want it to happen again?”
“What, spend another night buried between your creamy thighs?” I lick my lips again as my mouth waters. “My cock is already hard thinking about it.”
“In that case…” When we’re only a breath apart, she whispers, “This is one battle you and you sword won’t win…Zorro.” She turns on her high heels and smiles as she introduces herself to someone, leaving me standing at the food, my back still to the room.
I nod and chuckle. No way she’s taking it personal, I quip to myself. Absolutely no way.
It takes me a few minutes to recover from the heated conversation before I can address the room without looking like I’m a fucking elk in rut. I purposely avoid glancing at Jo and move to my seat at the head of the table, the seat recently vacated by my father after he stepped down once he grew too sick to carry out his duties.
I say nothing and observe the room, watching for those who react quickly, acknowledging me as the head of the Alliance by falling silent and taking their respective seats. Dom Hernandez and his second, Raoul Santiago, are the first to take their seats, as usual. The head of the Mexican family has always been the most respectful of all the families. Next is Charles Grimm and a man I don’t recognize. It must be the American family’s new top enforcer since he fired his last one.
A giggle catches my attention. A familiar giggle. I glance to my left to see Jo openly flirting with Roman Ivanov, the head of the Russian family, which doesn’t surprise me. Ivanov isn’t exactly known for his discretion. His son Aleksei rolls his eyes next to him and nudges him to get his attention.
On Jo’s other side and vying for her attention is the head of the Greek family, Falcone Siccario. His second stands by his side, staring straight ahead. Jo giggles again, a melodic sound that warmed me plenty last night. Hearing it directed at someone else doesn’t please me.
“If we may start,” I growl loudly, my glare on Jo. She smiles knowingly, the little minx, and waves as both Siccario and Ivanov take their seats. Dear god, she even waves like a little minx. I’ll be addressing that later. I’ll be addressing a lot later, like how she thinks openly flirting with the heads of two of the top-tier families is in any way helping her.
“For those attending the meeting for the first time, please find your nameplate and take your seat.” When Jo takes a step toward the table, her gaze scanning for her name, I stop her. “Ms. Prescott, your place is beside me.”
Her eyes round as she glances at the others. No one pays her much mind—aside from Ivanov and Siccario, who both think they have a chance. She sits in the chair I hold for her, smartly remaining silent as everyone settles.
I lean to her before we start. “You want a seat at this table, you will do something for me to earn it.” When she looks at me, heat and anger swirling in her gaze, I clarify before the wrong idea seats in her brain. “There’s a threat to the Alliance among the second-tier families. No sooner do we catch one rat, when another surfaces—and we need to get to the man behind it all. You will help me find out who this cancer is. You do that, you will earn a permanent seat at this table.”
Before she can react to my words, I straighten and address the room. “Gentlemen,” I pause and nod at Jo, “and ladies, I welcome you to the first of what I hope to be many meetings of the newly expanded Alliance.”
