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“Take her,” Elio says above my head to someone else. My pussy still squeezing with the shameful aftershocks of my orgasm, I pant raggedly and swallow, dizzily wondering what he’s talking about. I curl my hands into fists and let them slide away from Elio’s shoulders as he releases my waist. Luckily, my rubbery legs hold. He was speaking to Curse, I realize, as his brother nods and moves in close to my side.
My gaze digs into Elio’s back as he turns and cuts through the crowd, walking away without another word. He said all those terrible things to me, held me hard against him while I came in the middle of this fancy event, and now he’s leaving? Leaving me here with his silent, brooding brother while I’m soaked and shaking and still pulsing inside from what just happened?
My breath burns my throat, and I don’t know if it’s because of how hard I’m breathing or because of the fury.
Chapter 19
Elio
I saw Severu Serpico enter the room the same moment my desperate little Deirdre came against my thigh. Piss-poor fucking timing. Because I’d been about to say fuck it. Fuck Severu, fuck the money, fuck the event. I was about to drag Deirdre back to my car, toss her down in the backseat, and smack her ass for coming here with no panties.
Either that, or worship her pussy with my tongue.
Maybe both of those things.
It’s a needy little cunt. I can already tell. Could tell from the way she came apart just from the slight bumping grind of our slow dance. She’s needy all over, I’m discovering. Her ears. Her nipples. Her beautiful lower back.
Her clit.
I can’t stop thinking about her clit, nestled between her legs, naked and so swollen beneath her dress, as I stalk across the gallery. But Severu is watching me, flanked by two of his men. He’s waiting, and I have to get my head on straight to deal with business now.
I really don’t like interacting with other bosses with half my body’s blood in my dick. Doesn’t leave enough for my brain. Sev Serpico is one smart motherfucker, and there’s no room for mistakes where Deirdre is concerned. I approach him in measured strides and come to a stop before him.
“Severu,” I grunt in greeting.
“Elio,” he responds smoothly. He swirls a small glass with golden liquid in his hand. Despite the tension simmering between us, he’s perfectly composed, cordial even, looking sharp in his charcoal suit. He’s older than me, in his early forties, and there are strands of grey at his temples, but I don’t think that matters much. He’s got the kind of face that women go nuts for. The kind that seems to only get better with age. The guy looks like he should be playing a mob boss on TV or something, like he’s an actor instead of a criminal, but there’s nothing fake or performed about the lethal power he carries. His eyes are a warm amber colour, but his gaze is ice cold. So observant it’s almost cutting.
In half a second his gaze has gone to the too-tight crotch of my pants, then back up to my face, and I know he’s already figured out what’s happening.
“You’re keeping the O’Malley girl.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. So there won’t be any room for doubt.
“Yes.”
“Her papà owes me money.”
“He owes me more.”
“You and Curse killed three of my men and maimed another.”
“And one of them shot me.”
This surprises him. Clearly, the one soldier I left alive didn’t notice my injury through the agony of his own.
I can tell Sev is weighing what he wants to say next very carefully. No doubt the fact one of his men shot me has thrown a wrench into whatever negotiating power he thought he had here. He knows as well as I do that if I had been killed that night, there would have been a fucking war and his head would probably already be on a spike somewhere in my uncle’s house.
I almost wonder if he’s going to apologize, but instead he asks mildly, “How are you healing?”
“Like you give a fuck,” I grunt. “Here. Take this. It covers O’Malley’s debt plus some extra for the soldiers. A courtesy.” I take the cheque out of my suit jacket’s inner pocket and hold it between us. Sev’s eyes flicker over the million-dollar sum scrawled on the paper. He grasps the edge of the cheque, but I don’t let go yet. I draw the cheque back towards myself, pulling his hand with it, and lean towards him.
“I don’t care what you do with this money,” I mutter. “Give it to the widows. Invest it. Blow it on coke.” My pinching grip on the cheque grows tighter. Sev doesn’t let go or pull back, meeting my dark gaze steadily with his paler one as I continue speaking. “But any claim you had on Deirdre Elizabeth O’Malley is gone now. Fucking annihilated. I don’t want to see any of your men within a hundred metres of her. If I do, they’ll get the same treatment as the soldiers who came to her house. And there won’t be a fat cheque for you in recompense this time.”
Sev cocks his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. Finally, I release the cheque. He slides it into his jacket and coolly replies, “Noted.” He raises his drink as if toasting me, and light glances on scotch the same colour as his eyes. “Enjoy your new plaything. You’ve certainly paid enough for her.”
As he turns and leaves with his two men, I suddenly think he maybe isn’t as smart as I thought he was. Because if he can’t tell that Deirdre is worth ten times what I’ve paid for her then he’s a damn fool.
I scan the room for Deirdre, finding her with Curse. I’m satisfied that she’s safe, but I want to get her home soon. I’ve staked my claim on her publicly, paid Sev off, and I don’t need to waste much more time here.
