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I clear my throat to try to pull myself together, because I am a professional goddamnit, and technically, he is my boss.
“I just wanted to get these boxes done. How many more do we have?” I ask quickly, looking up at him, and he stares down at me inquisitively.
“Why? What’s going on?” he asks me, as he walks in farther, closing the door behind him before standing right next to me.
“Nothing other than drowning in a sea of paperwork that I can’t make heads or tails of,” I say sarcastically, glancing around at the piles. He follows my gaze, assessing the mess, and spots my half eaten bagel.
“Not hungry today, bambolina?” Slight concern etches his tone as he looks down at me, his hands firmly in his pockets. I debate whether to say anything. I don’t want to make a big deal out of it, but I want to find out if they are his men.
“Nico, is anyone on your team following me?” I peer up at him, waiting to see if I can spot the answer on his face. If they are his men, it makes sense. He is watching me for his business reasons, and I kind of get it. But if they are not his men, then… who are they?
“What?” His shoulders stiffen, and my heart starts to race, his body language telling me everything I wanted to know. I scurry to stand before I ask him again, needing to hear it from his lips.
“Do you have men following me?” I ask again, very clearly, my eyes watching his every move.
I see his nostrils flare, his jaw clench. “Is someone following you, Emilia?” he grits out, and I nod quickly.
“I noticed a man when I visited my mother at the cemetery over the weekend… and then I noticed him again this morning,” I say before I swallow, waiting for his reaction.
“And you’re just telling me now?” His voice gets louder, and I jump a little.
“Don’t yell at me! I don’t need to tell you my every waking move!” I bite back, folding my arms across my chest in defiance.
When he looks at me then, I get lost in his eyes for a moment. His hands cup my jaw, and I stand unmoving, my toes curling into my office carpet as he leans his head in and presses his forehead to mine.
“Are you okay?” he asks, and the seriousness of the situation makes my spine shiver, but I nod my head in his hands. Reaching out, I grab onto his jacket to support myself before I collapse into a frightened heap on the floor.
“You need to move into the compound,” he says, his face still only an inch from mine, and my eyes widen at his request.
“I don’t think that is necessary.” I am an independent woman; I can take care of myself.
“It isn’t a question.” Rearing my head back, I look up into his eyes. My frustrations at being told what to do begin to mix with fear at his sudden push to keep me secure.
“Nico, I can look after myself.” I take a step back, away from his tall frame, trying to pull myself together. I'm tougher than this. I can handle myself. Always have, always will.
“It wasn’t a question,” he grits out, his hands leaving my face, his eyes like a hawk watching me.
“What if I say no?” I put my hands on my hips and lift my head, making myself feel taller, even if he still beats me by a few inches.
“As I said, bambolina, I wasn’t asking. I know you enjoy making me repeat myself, and I’ll do it all day, but you’re going to be safe while doing it.” He steps back to me, not letting me out of his proximity. Grabbing my hips, he lowers his face slowly, and his lips brush against mine, light as a feather. Any arguments I had been trying to think up leave my head at the feel of him against me.
“You’re coming with me.”
19
NICO
Ihave come to realize that the way for me to get Emilia exactly where I want her is to touch her, and I am not complaining. I have been itching to have my hands on her since the day we first met. Our demanding kiss the other night was the first sign of my fraying armor when it comes to her, and now that I’ve had a taste, my appetite is growing.
I have jerked off more times in the past few days than I have in my entire life. But this is business, and I need to remain professional. I don’t need distractions; especially not sexy ones like her.
Yet here I am, walking into her office, and brushing my lips with hers, needing her like the air I breathe.
Should I have kissed her? No. We still have a mountain of boxes to get through and her father is still in my basement, a fact I am sure she won’t like, even if she despises him. But now, even though my blood is boiling from this new information, as soon as my hand is on her body, my lips automatically follow and the slightest touch has us both on edge.
“You should have told me you saw someone at the cemetery,” I say to her as I start to help clean up the paperwork in her office, not planning to leave her side now until she is safe in the compound.
“What did he look like?” I ask her, and I see her hesitate.
