Page 59 of The One-Night Heist

The thought of rebelling from behind enemy lines successfully brought me back to baseline, which allowed me to justify moving my clothes into the navy blue canvas carry-on with full-grain leather trim.

All while plotting my revenge.

I’m going to make Giancarlo Luxford regret the day he met me.

While still riding him into the mattress, of course.

As angry as I was at being outsmarted, I had no intention of cutting our business arrangement short—with either the heist or the fucking. After all, why shouldn’t I enjoy everything this temporary partnership had to offer, from luxury luggage to gold-plated billionaire dick?

On that note…

I’d better pack the fancy lube!

I tossed the borrowed bottle into the duffle, but purposefully skipped the condoms, because the number one person on my ever-growing shit list was about to spend the majority of our little work trip covered in my cum, inside and out.

It’s the least he can do, really.

As if knowing I was cursing his name, my phone buzzed with an incoming message from you-know-who.

Moneybags

I would like to send a car to pick you up.

I bet you would.

My apartment may have been a claptrap shithole, but it was my claptrap shithole—my safe space away from the outside world. Giano currently had the upper hand, successfully kidnapping me overseas under the guise of business, but that didn’t mean he got to know anything more about me than I let him.

Not unless he earns it.

No.

I’ll catch a cab to your place when I’m good and ready.

Moneybags

You have one hour to get here.

Wear something pretty for me.

I gaped at my phone like the device itself had slapped me, because who the hell did this man think he was?

He’s Giancarlo Luxford, dummy.

I swallowed thickly, suddenly sick to my stomach and questioning if I had misjudged the entire situation. Not with us fucking—the lust was clearly mutual—but with how he was now behaving like every other asshole born with silver spoon in their mouth.

Or with a chip on his shoulder, like me…

No.

We are nothing alike.

As much as Mean Giano turned me on—if only for the visions of punishment he deserved—I couldn’t help wondering if the way he’d behaved around me up until now had just been an act to disguise the cold-hearted billionaire beneath.

I hate it.

Like… actually hate it.

There was no way in hell I was humoring why I disliked this particular turn of events, so I tamped it all the way down and focused on repacking as quickly as possible. It wasn’t that I cared about meeting Giano’s arbitrary deadline, but the last thing I wanted was to give him a reason to strong-arm Lowry into spilling my home address if I didn’t arrive on time.