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He gives me a questioning look but nods anyway.
I give him the courtesy of explaining, though we both know I don’t have to. “De Luca is a pain in the ass, but he feels just as fucking strongly on the subject as we do. Remember when some of their working girls got roughed up a couple years ago?”
He nods. “Aye, he got a wee bit creative.” He grimaces.
I smile. “Well, the man does make an impression.”
“Aye, that he does. Want me to set it up?”
“No, I’ll call him personally. That will make the bastard happy.”
I spend several hours checking in on our more legitimate enterprises, dealing with the same monotonous bullshit that keeps millions of CEOs rich and miserable.
“Morning.”
I look up and see Roxanne standing in the door to my office. She’s got on another of the outfits I purchased for her, which pleases me. Almost as much as knowing about the soft lace she’s wearing underneath.
“Good morning.” I take the opportunity for a break and lead her into the kitchen. “What do you want for breakfast?”
“Just coffee, honestly.”
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I’m just not a breakfast person.” She takes her customary seat at the center island. I pull out the cream, sugar, and a large mug of coffee for her. While she fixes her cup, I decide to rip off the Band-Aid.
“Roxanne,” I start.
“Rocky.”
“What?” I say.
“Rocky. My friends call me Rocky.”
Smiling, I go on. “Little one, I’m more than your friend.”
“Oh, really?” she challenges, crossing her arms over her chest. “How do you figure?”
Coming around the island, I spin her stool so she’s trapped between my body and the counter. Stroking her face, I slowly run my hand down her slender neck. I circle it, feeling her frantic pulse as I squeeze, just enough to have her full fucking attention. Leaning forward, I whisper in her ear, “I know what your lips taste like. I know what you sound like when you come. I’ve buried my bare cock inside you and filled you with my cum. And I’m going to do it again. So yes, I’m more than your friend.” I pull her to me and kiss her. She moans into my mouth and wraps her arms behind my neck.
Mine. She’s fucking mine.
I finally force myself to break the kiss. “As I was about to say,” I spin her back to face the coffee, “you can’t publish the story.”
“The hell I fucking can’t.” She shoots out of her chair. “If you think for one second that I’m just going to let this—”
I clamp a hand over her mouth.
“Can I finish speaking first before ya bite my head off?”
She licks my palm and I yank it off her face.
“You can’t publish the story, lass. You also can’t turn it over to the cops. It’s just not how we handle things like this. But we are going to handle them.”
She’s still glaring at me, but she isn’t arguing.
“We’re going after his operation directly.”
After several minutes, she lets out a small huff. “Ok. Let’s handle this the mob way. What’s the next step?”
