Page 117 of The Man with a Treasure

“T-time. Y-You need time.”

She crawled into my lap, straddling me. “The only time I need is what you will give me. Now.”

“S-S-Sal.” When he didn’t answer, I looked to see his empty chair. “Sal?”

He was digging through a drawer. “I am searching for something with which to tie you up. Someone is going to get to fucking. No more waiting. There aren’t enough showers in the world to save me now. I’d fuck Mae if she would give me a go.”

His voice faded away as I got lost in her pleading, galaxy eyes.

All restraint and will to deny her faded away.

Licking my lips, I nodded. “Okay… Star.”

Standing at the end of my bed, Sal and I stared at the headboard. I mumbled, “What have I gotten myself into?” Scarlett was no longer accepting my excuses. Determination had taken over.

“Sex with a Goddess?” He had a beige cloth napkin in each hand that matched my wonderfully plain room. “Think she wants music?”

Like my suit, I preferred simple and direct. That is why I chose this particular bedroom in the beginning. “What?”

Sal shrugged. “She may never have had music while, uh, you know.”

Taking off my suit jacket, I growled, “No. Her rapists probably never played jolly tunes while violating her. Will you stop making me more nervous than I already am?”

“Angelo, please don’t think of them during this.”

I threw my jacket into the corner. “How can I not?”

He slapped my face with a napkin. “Stop being a little bitch.”

“You hit me.” I was so shocked he had smacked me, I didn’t retaliate.

“And I will again.” He picked up my jacket. “I have no pity for you right now. You’re about to get laid.” He hung my jacket in the closet. “I have to go unload a dishwasher. Now, remove your holster.”

As I observed everything happening in that room, I chuckled. “You are worried about my suit when you are about to tie me to a bed so that a Giordano, let me remind you, can fuck me.” I took off my holster and laid it on the nightstand closest to the door, where I kept it when I slept in this room.

At my closet, he peered over his shoulder, then laughed while turning around. “Would Pietro and Cristian be proud?”

“I think not. At least you’re not racing to the top of Mr. Giordano’s To Kill list.”

He waved a hand through the air as he came to me. “What happens in the mountains stays in the mountains. No chickening out.”

While he started unbuttoning my shirt, I asked, “Stays in the mountains? Is this more slang, Sal?”

“Vegas, baby.” He patted my shoulders. “Off.”

Taking off my shirt, I growled, “Oh yes, Vegas. I can’t believe you let me lose so much money there.”

He headed back to the closet to hang my shirt. “Sometimes, being tossed in the pool is the best way to learn how to swim.”

“At an expensive gambling table?”

“Pfft!”

“Not even knowing the game?”

His head bobbled on that one. “Alright, maybe you have a point. Now, take off your pants.”

Unbuckling my slacks, I asked, “Am I being tossed into a pool again?”