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He erases the distance between us and leans in, caging me between his arms, his palms digging into the leather of my backrest. He’s too close, mere inches from me. My body immediately reacts to his heat, a tingling sensation rippling through me.
“Look at me.”
I obey his demand, even though looking him in the eyes is a life-threatening endeavor—surely my heart is developing a chronic condition.
“For the record, Princess, when I fuck you, it will be because you crave it as much as I do. Not because you need release after a shitty day and three glasses of wine.”
“Oh” is all I manage. His words spread through me like hot chocolate, all heat and decadence.
It wasn’t a rejection.
It was a consideration.
He treated me with respect and care.
He didn’t take advantage…
He glares at me for another intense moment. His eyes drop to my lips. Anticipation snakes up my spine. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down, and then he stands up as abruptly as he landed above me.
“Besides, I’m still your boss. I told you I’ll take care of it, so stop sulking. It doesn’t suit you.”
“How?” I croak, still whiplashed from his words earlier. The dominance, the undeniable need, the confidence. I think I need a fresh pair of underwear.
“Let me deal with that. In the meantime, you think really well, Mila, about my conditions.”
“Conditions?” I widen my eyes. Oh, he is talking about the NDAs. Goosebumps cover my skin as I realize he sees me just like those other women. “I don’t want to be treated like one of your… I’m not a trophy date.”
He runs his tongue across his upper teeth. “It’s not such a bad thing, but I promise you’ll never forget a date with me.” His voice is dark with promise and sin.
We stare at each other again today, but this time the energy zaps with electricity, need, and a promising thrill.
I definitely won’t survive Gio Cassinetti. Oh, but I can’t wait to succumb.
Chapter13
Gio
Itake a screenshot and hit the send button, smiling like an idiot.
Tedious. The holiday season has been tedious, but these moments at the end of the day are worth the suffering. I look forward to my nightly chats with Mila.
Acquisitions, crises and takeovers get me excited. They are my personal adrenaline boosts.
And now I’m daydreaming. Jesus.
Whoever invented small talk hated mankind. I’ve suffered through so much of it in the past two weeks, I ended up canceling at least two engagements because I couldn’t go through more hours of torture.
Today was the cherry on top of many social engagements. The worst one. Christmas lunch with my family at London’s. The pretense was palpable as we all tried to ignore the fact my stepfather has been undergoing cancer treatment, and might have celebrated his last holiday with us.
Paris was awfully quiet, and London’s boyfriend has been charming my mother as if he needed her approval. London scowled as usual, but at least she didn’t coerce us out of all our money for her charity.
I love them all, but getting them in large quantities, all concentrated in one event, is not exactly my jam.
Under normal circumstances it would have been survivable, but without the shield of my phone, the minutes stretched unbearably.
My phone beeps with Mila’s response.
Mila
