“And he was right.”
“I swear, the boss is fixing this. He’s handling his son.” The pleading whine to his voice made Sloan cringe.
“Doesn’t look like he’s doing much fixing to me, Leo.” Sloan crouched in front of him, pressing the knife to Leo’s throat. The Italian froze, his eyes widening. “If you’re really Folliero’s spy, he should be ashamed of you. You cry like a little bitch.”
“I’ve heard stories about you. I’m not an idiot to think you wouldn’t kill me unless I told you the truth.”
“True.” Sloan smirked and patted him on the cheek, earning a whimper of pain. “Sorry about kicking you. You know how this business goes.”
Leo breathed in sharply in relief. “Yes, I know.”
“Go back and tell your boss that if he doesn’t find his bastard son first, we’ll cut him into pieces and send them in the mail. Am I clear?”
He nodded. “Yes, sir.”
“Ardan, see Mr. Roma leaves in a blindfold and dump him in the city.”
Ardan tipped his head. “Yes, boss.” He grabbed Leo by the arm, dragging him to his feet. He held out a blindfold, dark eyebrows raised. “You know how it works.” Even though Leo was shaking even worse than before, he didn’t argue. He turned his back on Ardan, who covered the top half of his face with a thick blindfold. “You’re lucky I did this in the first place, otherwise we’d have to kill you anyway.”
Sloan laughed at Leo’s sharp gasp. What a pity. He was craving some blood on his hands today.
Chapter Nine
Conall glared at Sloan. The bastard knew exactly what he’d done, and he sat there as though he hadn’t just fucked Conall in front of his men like it’d meant nothing. Conall had seen his fair share of public display. Hell, he and Terrance had thrown parties in the Virtue that had whores fucking each other to win their clients’ business, but Conall had the right to know what was going to happen before it happened, damn it.
“Are you really that angry at me, pet?”
He wasn’t, not as much as he should have been, because that twisted part of him liked being the center of attention, but he wasn’t going to tell Sloan that. “Yes. What the fuck was that?”
Sloan peered up at him from the paperwork he was reading. They were sitting in his office a few hours later, Conall lounging in the two-seater couch positioned against the wall. Sloan sat in his office chair behind his desk, looking very comfortable for a man being glared at. Fionn had disappeared as soon as he delivered Conall here, as though Conall really was a pet.
The thought made him tug at the damn collar around his neck. Fuck this man and his weird fetishes.
“That was me showing my ownership.” Sloan laid the paperwork on the desk and leaned back in his chair, legs crossed at the knees and smirk planted firmly in place. “Did you feel owned, pet?”
Owned?Yes, he did feel owned, in ways he didn’t like. He hadn’t been so hard in his life.
Conall shot to his feet and stalked toward Sloan. Even though there were guards outside, there wasn’t one in the room because Sloan had sent them out, as though Conall wasn’t dangerous to him. Slamming his hands on the desk, Conall leaned over it, jaw twitching in anger. It wasn’t anger at Sloan, though, but at himself for liking all of this more than he should have. He’d be damned if he gave in that easily.
“You don’t own me, Killough.”
“I thought I told you to call me Sloan,” he said calmly. Fuck, anyone would think the mob bossdidn’thave an angry man standing over him, towering over his seated position threateningly.
“Do you ever actually listen to me?” Conall bit out, hands curling into fists. “I’m a human being. You can’t own me.”
Sloan’s smirk was infuriating. He touched Conall’s hand with his own, straightening his fingers and bringing them to his mouth. He kissed each fingertip. “I already own you, pet. You’re mine.”
Conall swallowed, watching Sloan kiss each of his fingers, not quite sure what to make of it. Was this guy really a mob boss? He certainly didn’t fucking act like one. He ripped his hand away from Sloan, shifting backward so he couldn’t touch him. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
Sloan merely played with the cuffs of his suit, apparently not deterred by the sharp retreat from Conall. “You’ll come to accept the truth eventually, pet.”
“Fuck you.”
“No,Ifuckyou,” Sloan said, the smirk bigger than ever. Prick.
“Why can’t I do you?” Conall folded his arms over his chest. “Don’t want a cock in your arse?”
Sloan blinked at him. “I have a present for you.”
