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“Deal.”
This time I turn and take one step.
“Rossi?”
I face him once more and those insane green eyes slide over me again. There’s a wicked light there that’s edged in sex and violence and my pussy throbs.
He’s leaning back, arm hooked over the chair next to him as he tosses back the contents of his glass. “Fuck this up and I kill you.”
“That,” I say, believing him, “is extra.”
“What’s MG stand for?”
“None of your fucking business.”
This time, I turn and leave and don’t look back.
TWO
HENDRICK
Someone’s been following me for the past fucking two weeks.
Delacroix to Manhattan and even the one so-called pleasure trip I took to Vegas for a night. The hot sex there was pleasure, a cover, and the rest work. And while I’m not a paranoid man, and I can be single-minded with my work, building my empire to greater and greater heights, that feeling of being watched came with me to Vegas. I’ve got photos to prove it.
I sigh and lean back in the leather chair in my office at the Agnossio mansion.
Whoever it is, they’re not making a move.
But they want something.
People always fucking do.
“Hendrick?”
“Someone’s fucking following me.” I look at Damon Reilly, my head of security, most trusted employee, and the closest thing a man like me has to a friend. I shrug. “I told you that.”
He breathes out with barely contained annoyance. “What do you want me to do?”
I glance at the latest photo, a beautiful thing in shadow and blur and toss it at Damon. It’s the latest in the pile.
“I’ll have it framed.”
He paces my expansive office in the mansion, where I work and rarely live. “That all you got, Hendrick?”
“I’d propose, but I don’t know if I’m the marrying kind, or if…” I pull another photo over and squint at it, then put my boots on the desk. I admire his barely withheld wince. He knows the value of the antique desk, and the kind offuck youto it and my father I’m giving. “That’s a woman or man.”
It’s not that I don’t value the art and craftsmanship that went into the piece, or the history. It’s the fact my asshole of a father preferred a mausoleum mixed with museum to a place where family could thrive.
Besides, I could buy a thousand of these Aldon desks, if that many existed in the world.
Personally, I find the thing heavy-handed—too many scrolls and curlicues carved into the mahogany—and the gold edging is a little busy. But I appreciate it for what it is.
Just like I appreciate that I offended Damon’s finer fucking senses.
“It’s a woman.” His sense of humor’s packed up and left.
I’m aware it’s a woman. The shape of the ass is too feminine, the curves just right, to be anything else.
