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Knowing Ronin is chatting away to Clementine almost ruins the high I feel from touching her and making her come. Almost.
I don’t like Clementine thinking I’m mafia.
Mafia is such a technical term.
I don’t run an organized crime outfit. But, I may help those who do. I may be in business creating the technological advances for said industries to flourish, and I’m fucking good at it.
But, I would never be in any danger from it.
The only danger as of now is Blackstone wanting to take away a soon-to-be contract I have with a Fortune-500 company. Blackstone has been a pain in my ass for years, trying to undercut me on deals. Outbidding me in markets. Just all around trying to sabotage everything I’ve worked so hard to build. Attempting to be like me and doing a piss poor job of it.
It’s turned hostile over the years. Blackstone always wanting to out do me and never being able to. Sometimes, his dirty play is a bittoodirty for my liking, but I always still come out on top. He’s an evil man. And when Clementine wants to compare me to the mafia and monsters, well she’s never met Blackstone.
She’s never been on the receiving end of his threats. I’ll admit, I’ve played just as dirty, sometimes feeling almost guilty for some of the things I’ve done, but this man just keeps coming back for more, and I always win.
And now he wants to come tomywedding. Well, there’s no way in Hell that’s happening. No way.
I’d never put Tennyson in danger. I would never subject Clementine to him.
“When did Ronin call you?” I ask her again.
“A few days ago,” she says, her cheeks still tinged pink from her orgasm.
“Where is he?” My men still haven’t been able to locate him since he left Blackstone’s place on the island of Zanzibar three days ago.
“He didn’t say.” She’s lying. I can tell. I might have to give her another orgasm to get her to tell me the truth. A man can wish.
“What did he say to you?”
“Just that we’re in danger and I shouldn’t marry you.” Now she’s telling the truth.
“What did you tell him?”
“I told him I wouldn’t leave.”
I can’t tell if she’s lying or not, but I pray she’s telling the truth. Maybe she’s at war with the whole thing. “Youshouldtrust me.”
Her eyes meet mine in a battle of who breaks first. “I do,” she finally says.
I stand, giving a head nod to the painting I bought for her. “Where would you like it?”
“Over my bed?”
“I’ll have Amy arrange for someone to hang it over your bed in the morning. We have an early meeting with Lana at the Juniper.”
She gets off the couch and straightens her clothes. “What time?”
“Ten am.”
She nods. “It was very nice of you to buy the painting for me.” Her words are sincere. “I appreciate it.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’m going to bed.” She crosses the room, and before she steps out, she peers over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
I don’t know if she’s thanking me for the painting or the orgasm, but I say, “You’re welcome,” all the same.
When she’s gone, I walk to my office and dial Dean. “Put a trace on Clementine’s phone. She’s been receiving calls from Ronin.”
