Page 113 of Unlock My Heart

“Heel,” I order.

“Attack,” Sienna orders.

My head of security appears, flashing a hand signal for Lacey, and she bounds to his side. “Mr. and Mrs. Calvani, conflicting commands will only confuse her,” he says gently. “Perhaps I could work with both of you and Lacey when you return from your trip.”

“Yes,” I say.

“No,” Sienna says.

“Um, alright. Well, have a nice trip.” He and Lacey disappear.

“What happened to Lacey being my shadow?” Sienna points out.

“That’s when I’m not around. Tonight, you’ve got my undivided attention.”

“And that’s supposed to be reassuring?” Sienna scoffs.

Ignoring the jab, I warn her, “We’re going to be late, and I promise you, you don’t want to be late.” That’s the only hint I’m giving, because the surprise will be worth it.

“Don’t tell me what I want.” Sienna begins pounding my back.

The palm of my hand lands on her ass cheek with a firm whack, and she hisses with anger as I carry her to the door. Why that does it for me, fuck if I know.

“Saint, grab Sienna’s project from the work room.” He’s waiting for us at the car, sandwiched between a convoy of SUVs. A safety precaution, only until a cockroach named Kirksey has been exterminated.

“Saint, don’t you dare make a mess of my bobbins!” Sienna cries.

“Mrs. Calvani, I don’t know what that means.” Saint hesitates, looking unsure.

“Get Jermaine to help carry the pillow, and you hold the bobbins,” I instruct him.

He hesitates, still confused.

“The wooden stick-looking things. Do not unravel them from their positions,” I explain.

“Yes, boss.” He disappears inside.

Having saved Saint’s balls, mine are still at risk as I place a fuming Sienna into the back of the vehicle, sliding in beside her. “Stop making my cock hard in front of Saint. I’d hate to have to kill him,” I warn her, adjusting myself and leaving my hand there as a shield.

“I refuse to take responsibility for you murdering anyone.” As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she realizes her mistake.

“Nor should you,” I tell her softly. “Ringer wasn’t your fault. What happened to you wasn’t your fault.”

She examines her nails, refusing to make eye contact. “And my client?”

“Former client,” I correct her. “Not your fault, and not everything’s bigger in Texas.”

That gets me Sienna’s undivided attention. With fire in her eyes, she spits, “Surprised you didn’t whip it out and measure.”

“No need to measure.” My shoulder lifts. “We both know mine’s bigger.”

“Your ego?” Sienna clicks her tongue. “That’s true.”

I chuckle softly. “How did you become the madam? You told me it was a long story. I’ve got the time.”

She narrows her eyes. “Why would I give you my jugular?”

“You want mine?” I reach inside my jacket, producing my ice pick. Loosening my tie, I extend it handle-side out.