“Thank you, Lizzie, that will be all,” he dismisses her, still not turning around.
Lizzie suddenly looks more pissed off than she has in the entire three minutes I have known her. She walks right past me, slamming the door behind her.
I stand there, waiting for him to turn his chair around, not sure what the hell he is waiting for. There are two chairs in front of his ornate desk. I debate seating myself in one while I wait for him to acknowledge my presence.
He keeps his back toward me, still facing the fucking window. I wait for another minute. Growing impatient, I decide to make my way closer to his desk to wake him up from this rude trance he appears to be in.
Just as I am about to open my mouth to get his attention, the chair slowly begins to turn. I remain frozen as he makes his way around the desk toward me.
My relief morphs into horror as he approaches, revealing himself to me.
Holy shit, it can’t be.
He stops mere inches from me as I am hit with the heady aroma of driftwood cologne mixed with tobacco. An intoxicating scent mixed with the vision of his muscular physique in a tailored black and white pinstripe suit.
He extends his hand out to grasp mine.
It can’t be.
Veins course through his strong, ink-covered hands. Ornate, Old English-style letters decorate his knuckles, spelling the word “king,” and then, to only solidify my fear, I see the skull with colorful flowers surrounding it.
My stomach drops as my cheeks turn crimson.
“Carmine Moretti, it’s a pleasure,” he introduces as he extends his hand for me to shake.
I raise the hand I used to make myself come to the hand of the man I fantasized was touching me instead. The mysterious stranger who summoned a deep arousal within my soul now has a name.
Mr. Carmine Moretti.
My new boss.
It’s going to be a long fucking day.
Chapter16
Carmine
Surprise.The shocked look on her face brings with it a ghastly white hue, draining the pigment from her usually glowing skin.Even in a state of confusion, she stands before me just as much of a vision as she was last night.
With her hand interlocked in mine still, I take notice of more crisscrossed stitch lines drawn around her wrists, spilling down her fingers. Much like the stitched ink that adorns her collarbone, these are just as delicious as they are delicate on her supple skin.
Her palm becomes clammy, intertwined with my calloused one. Having her supple skin in my rough palm, I feel a rush of blood flow to my cock. I try to discreetly adjust my aroused length to conceal the animalistic attraction I feel for her. How I wish I could skip these forced pleasantries and bend her over my fucking desk right now and have her squealing my name loudly enough that it could summon the dead. However, I need to let this unfold organically, as it was destined to be.
I allow her a few moments to process that she is peering into the same black irises that she looked at lustfully just last night. There is no denying the attraction we felt the second we locked eyes at The Sandy Claws, because it’s the same animal magnetism that is clawing at both of our flesh now as we stand mere inches apart.
I hate that I had to bring her here under the guise of employment, but that was the only way I could think of to get close to her that would seemlegitimate. Not that I’ve ever let that dynamic ever stop me from getting my dick wet. But with her, I want much more than her body. I want her soul. I want her to be mine.
She brings her tongue to her lips moistening them before she finally opens her beautiful mouth.
“It’s you,” she says as she tries to release her hand from mine.
Not yet, you don’t.
I squeeze her hand as a mischievous grin escapes my lips. “And it’s you,” I purr back.
I release her hand and motion for her to take a seat as I approach my desk chair. She does not go to sit. Instead, she remains standing, studying me.
As I sit down, I take her in once more. Her long, onyx hair frames her gorgeous face, which is now regaining its sensuous olive hue.
