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A dangerous glint sends an icy chill down my spine.
Please don’t, I want to say, but I will never beg. Whether I like it or not, I’m a mafia princess, and I know my worth and power.
I will never bow to any man.
Not even Connor Barrett.
“Oh.” Donna gasps, noticing the stain and breaking the tension. “We have some spare white shirts in the back, but I doubt we will have one in your size. I’m so sorry about this. Mia, can you—”
“There’s no need.” Connor turns to the man behind him, who nods. In just under a minute, he’s back and handing the billionaire a fresh new shirt. Connor thanks the man and then...begins to undress.
In front of us.
“Thanks, Mack,” Connor says.
Donna and I stand there with our mouths open while he removes his jacket and shirt, baring his chest.
Sweet baby Jesus.
I was right. He’s ripped, with those thick juicy pecs you just want to lick. His arms—holy mother of mercy—are smooth and powerful. But it’s Connor’s tattoos, hidden under his corporate attire, which surprise me.
They appear tribal.
I’m not an expert on ink, despite it being on every man in my family—and I have one of my own—but what I do know is whether they look hot or not.
And it absolutely is.
This dark swirly piece of art covers one of his pecs, and I spot another poking from the waistband of his pants. I want to nudge his pants down to see the rest.
He lifts his eyes, as if he can read my mind, and heat flares between us. I literally feel my cheeks warming.
Crap.
I know my nipples are hard, so I cross my arms over my black Bloom Events Management T-shirt and admit this man has tilted me off my axis.
I do not like it.
I need to remain professional and gain some control.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Barrett. That was clumsy of me,” I say, and as Donna is taking his shirt and rolling it up, Connor Barrett fucking...winks...at me.
My eyes fly open.
Is he flirting with me? Openly?
People recognize Connor for his serious, powerful, and scrupulous nature. But he’s no playboy. Nor is he charming. He’s extremely discrete about his personal life. The media speculate, but he never has a woman on his arm at events and seems to be a solo creature.
I doubt it now that I’ve met him. As someone who comes from a powerful family, I know the lengths women will go to marry or trap a wealthy man. It’s my guess he just doesn’t have the time or inclination to be bothered with dating, so he’s subtle about how he obtains his...pleasure.
If he thinks a night with me is an option, then I need to be clear it’s not. It would be dangerous for both of us.
Not that he knows who I am.
And it must stay that way.
If my identity is revealed, there goes my freedom.
“The jacket is still wet, sir.” Mack holds the black item up with two hands.
