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“Any day can be a velvet-jacket day. For all you know, that’s what I like to wear to breakfast.”
“We aren’t going to any fancy breakfast venues. It will be me and you and a bowl of cereal.”
I sniffed.
“Don’t tell me you don’t eat carbs.”
I let my gaze run down his body, then focused on his crotch. “I eat everything, but I need to be sure to have some protein first thing in the morning.”
He growled, sounding sexy as hell. “That’s enough.”
I should feel remorseful. He was trying to set reasonable boundaries, and I wasn’t respecting him at all. I’d told him he was being an asshole, but I was too. Yet when he looked at me like he was trying to think of the best way to discipline me, I found it impossible not to push him.
“How are we going to get food at this cabin, anyway?”
“I’ve already arranged for groceries to be delivered.”
“So we’re close enough to civilization for a delivery service?”
“We’re close enough for some of our associates to take care of it.”
That did not sound promising. “I hope you’re not expecting me to cook.”
“No. I can tell you’re far too delicate for that.”
I glared at him. “I’ll have you know I’m excellent at boiling ramen.”
“That’s about what I expected. I’ll be the one preparing the food.”
“You can cook?”
“Baby, I can do anything. I’m multitalented.”
“I already knew that, but I thought you wanted me to treat you like a professional.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, an annoyingly neutral expression fixed on his face. I longed to break through his false coldness and get him to flirt with me. I wanted to make him truly smile.
He picked up a toiletry bag which held the various elements of my skincare regimen and glanced at all the bottles. “Why the fuck do you need all this?”
“Do you think my skin stays this soft by neglecting it?”
“A cleanser and a moisturizer would surely be enough.”
I scoffed. “That is definitely not enough. If I hadn’t had your cock up my ass, I’d question if you’re even gay.”
He raised his brows. “Seriously?”
I rolled my eyes. “I know that’s a total stereotype. I just… I don’t travel light.”
“Yeah, I noticed.” He lifted something else out of my suitcase, and his eyes went wide. Heat filled my cheeks as I realized he’d found my favorite butt plug. So I liked something nice and thick in my ass. I wasn’t going to be embarrassed about that.
“Jesus. That’s… impressive.”
“You said you weren’t going to put your hands on me. A girl’s got needs.”
I glanced down at his crotch again, more surreptitiously this time, and fuck me, his cock was pressing against his fly, hard and ready to go. It took amazing self-control not to bend over the bed and offer my ass that second.
I found the courage to meet his eyes, even though I knew my cheeks were bright red.
He laid the sweater he’d lifted back on top of the butt plug. “I know all about your needs.” His words were low and husky, and I had a feeling he hadn’t really meant to say them.
“Then you understand.”
“I understand that you’re going to make this job as difficult as you possibly can.”
“I never said I wasn’t difficult. I’ve been a pain in the ass since the day I was born.”
“Jesus. Get packed, and speed it up. This building’s security measures are nonexistent.”
“I could have told you that. That’s how he got up here before.”
“What? Hendon came here? After the restraining order? Is that why you were so jumpy when I came in the door?”
“I can’t tell you anything until you stop asking me questions.”
Giorgio stepped away from my suitcases and propped himself in the doorway. “Talk.”
“I already told you Alan has broken in before. He painted messages threatening my work on some fresh canvases I’d had out. That’s why I filed the restraining order and got a security system. I was more worried he’d sabotage my art than attack me. His driver or bodyguard or whatever the hell the guy is has shown up at my door too. He rattled the doorknob, and I think he was trying to get in, but he didn’t succeed, and he hasn’t been back.”
“Why didn’t you report it?”
“Because he didn’t actually do anything, and since he’s not the one the restraining order is against—”
“But you know he works for Hendon, and you—”
“No one’s going to listen to me.”
“I am. Describe the man.”
I did, and Giorgio pulled out his phone. “Who are you calling?”
Giorgio waved toward my bedroom. “Pack faster.”
“Yes, sir!” Did he intend to order me around like this the whole time? I was fairly certain he did.
I assumed he was calling one of his colleagues since he gave whoever was on the other end of the call the description of Alan’s driver.
