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Her eyes are unwavering as she crosses her arms in defiance.
Truthfully, I have little issue with Lucia Romano other than the fact that she’s a remnant from a time I wasn’t part of this place. From whenheran the show, but the fact of the matter is, she’s gotten a little too fond of managingRavish, the cesspit at my club, Rogue, that I’d rather didn’t exist.
And I can’t have that. She needs to know who’s in charge.
Before she can blink, I’ve crossed the space between us to grip her upper arms hard enough that she flinches openly.
Her startled eyes meet mine, and I almost smirk.
“Just because I’d prefer to wash my hands of this shit show doesn’t mean I’ll allow you free reign, Lucia.” I increase my grip, and she grits her jaw as she furrows her brow, clearly determined to stand firm.
And so, I bridge the gap between our faces until our noses are almost touching. Her chest is rising and falling rapidly despite her otherwise cool composure.
“Don’tforget who runs this show now, Miss Romano, because if you do…” I narrow my eyes into slits. “I can guarantee you won’t like the outcome if we need to have this conversation again.”
My cell chimes in my pocket, saving my power-hungry employee from the full force of my wrath, and I pluck it out to check the message.
JOSEPH: I’ll be at Rogue in the next five minutes.
I shoot him a quick thumbs up, then with a final dark stare for Lucia, I pivot on my heel and stride from the changing rooms adjoiningRavish.
As I make my way back toward my office, I breathe a sigh of relief that Jules—following his fuck up with Alex DeMarco’s wife several weeks earlier—had alerted me to Lucia taking a bigger cut from our lots at the auctions than even the lots themselves got.
I mean, I don’t wantRavishto be part of my club. Mylegacy. But the reality is that when I bought this place and attempted to tear it asunder, I’d not realized the extent of my sperm donor’s reach. He had dirt on a great many powerful people, but they, in turn, had no qualms in strong-arming me into keeping Valentine’s crown jewel.
Much to my disgust.
I’d learned to play the role following the untimely death of my best friend, Lorenzo, and the guilt I carried as a result of leaving the love of his life, Sara, a single mother to their son, Ren.
The same boy I’m due to meet tonight.
The same boy – or almost man considering he’s recently turned twenty that I’m claiming some sort of guardianship over – for no other reason than the guilt for Renzo’s death that continues to haunt me daily.
I reach the stairs leading to my office and take them two at a time, raking my right hand through my messier than usual black hair as my left grips the door handle.
I step inside, expecting to find the room empty, only to stop short when my dark eyes land on a woman with a warm brown high ponytail leading down to a slender neck atop narrow shoulders covered by a simple white T-shirt.
She twists about on the seat, her mesmerizing grey eyes locking on mine with an intensity that makes my feet stall and my heart freeze in my usually empty chest cavity.
“Are you Mr. Burton?”
Her husky tone sends a jolt of desire straight to my cock, and I step closer, silently thanking whoever sent this motherfucking vision my way.
“One and the same.” My lips tug upward. “And who are you?”
Her lips tug up on one side as her eyes darken. She stands and closes the distance between us until our toes are almost touching.
Her entire self is small, slender, and utterly reminiscent of a small brown bird that used to land on my mother’s front porch all those years ago.
The need to care for her flows through me like never before, but I shove it roughly to the very back of my mind, instead focusing on the physical and what her body can do for mine as I’ve done my whole adult life.
My fucking palms are itching with the need to touch her, but I refrain, needing my lovers to voice their assent more than anything. Butshit, I’ve never experienced such a visceral need before.
It’s like I’m magnetized to her. The need to take her and plough into her hard against the desk at her back rushes through me like a fucking tornado.
And so, I’m helpless to bring my hand up between us and brush my knuckles across her smooth cheek.
“Who are you, my little bird?Tell me. I need your words.”
