She could do this all day; we don't mind since whiffs of her perfume permeate the air and heat the blood in our veins, or that her pretty, soft hands feel like bliss on the hard muscle of our backs.
When she fails to push us out, she tries to pull us out by our ties, begging us to leave, while adding her life depends on this meeting.
She gives up eventually.Out of breath, her once perfectly done hair escaped its bounds, and now thick, dark tresses frame her face, her cheeks reddened with exertion.
"Okay, please.I'm begging you.You need to leave before Mr.Moretti gets here.I have a very, very, very important meeting with him.Please," she pleads.
We exchange looks, and the same thought goes through our heads: Isabella Larson, naked on her knees, begging with that level of eagerness to take our dicks into her mouth.
Fuck.The thought displaces all three of us at once.
We knew she was going to show up with a marriage proposal.The thing about Isabella is that we know everything about her all the time.
She is and will always be the bane of our existence.
Her father made some really bad business decisions, bad investments, worse judgments, and a resort project that burned through all their money.As of yesterday, he was sitting in some Neapolitan jail cell, his capture more mafia-related than not paying his contractors.Some gangs thought they could get a ransom for him, thinking the Larson mafia still had clout.
Even before we moved into the Onyx skyscraper, we got him released, and by the time Isabella leaves our offices, her father would be home safe.That had been our first order of business.
Now we're onto Isabella and her marriage proposal.Or rather, marriage proposals.
"Isabella Larson," Emilio says, offering her his killer smile.
"What brings you to our kingdom,tesoro?"Marcello asks, adding on his own brand of charm.
"Your...kingdom?"she asks, stammering.She's so damn pretty when she frowns.She seems to catch herself, straightens her shoulders, and glares at us.Done playing games with us, I see.
"I'm here to see Mr.Pablo Moretti.If you have an appointment with him as well, please, can you leave and let me have mine first?I won't be long, I promise."
"Do you mean you want to speak to the owner of the Onyx Empire?"
"Yes, him.Pablo Moretti, fifty-ish, silver fox, very hot," she says, using her hands to articulate her words.
She thinks Pablo Moretti is hot.I'd like to make my hand hot on her ass, and by the looks of it, Emilio and Marcello think the same.
"You're looking at the three new owners and heads of the Onyx Empire, Isabella.Pablo retired.He's out of the business.What can we do for you?"
She opens her mouth to say something, closes it, and repeats before she unclasps her purse, digs inside, and retrieves her cell phone.Her slender fingers with their red tips fly across her screen.
And then her green eyes widen with first renewed shock and then more utter confusion.She must have read the hundreds of breaking news articles of the new owners of the Onyx Empire.In civilian circles, we run everything from hotels to car factories; underground, we now rule the world.
"Do you have something to ask us, Isabella?"I ask innocently.
