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I want so much to shrink under that penetrative stare, but instead, I keep my head held high. “I like to be prepared. And I had a good feeling about this.”
“Did you? So you were confident you would get the job even before we spoke?”
The hair on the back of my neck is starting to lift. “Is that wrong? I guess it sounds naïve, but I like to believe the best is going to happen.” And of all the lies I’ve told today, that has to be the biggest. My life has been pretty much the opposite of what I just described for years. There’s been nothing for me but basic survival ever since the state came in and broke up my family and sent us all off to separate foster homes. I wouldn’t recognize the babies now if they stood in front of me.
And then I aged out of the system, and it made me desperate to the point where applying for a job with a notorious crime boss seemed like a good idea.
He doesn’t believe me. He won’t say it—he would much rather stare at me like he’s waiting for something else. Something more. But he won’t come straight out and call me on it. Why? I didn’t sign up to play games, yet that’s exactly what it feels like I’m doing as we sit and eat ice cream together. I barely taste it. I want to get this over with, that’s it. I want to retreat to my room—even if it isn’t really mine.
I set the spoon aside and wipe my mouth on a silky napkin. “I should go to my room now. It’s been a long day, and I’ll need all my energy tomorrow.”
The first expression that even remotely looks like a smile passes over his generous mouth. “Yes, you will. She’s going to put you through your paces.” To my surprise, he stands as well, and the legs of his chair scrape loudly over the floor. “I’ll walk with you.”
“You don’t have to. I’m sure you’re busy.”
“I wouldn’t want you to get lost in this big house.” When he stares at me, I know it’s no use. He’s going to have his way. My legs tremble as he leads me from the room and down the hallway to the sweeping staircase in the entry hall. What is this all about? Is he screwing around with me? What if he wants something else from me once we’re in my room? What if that’s what all of this was about? I couldn’t possibly hope to fight off a man of his size.
By the time we reach my door, my nerves are in shreds, and I am on the verge of tears. But what’s worse, so much worse, is the way my heart threatens to burst when he leans in closer. Too close. Enough that I smell the spicy cologne he wears and the wine on his breath. His breath is hot on my face, while his seemingly black eyes stare deep into mine. “What’s…” I croak.
He doesn’t answer in words. Instead, his head darts forward like a snake’s strike, taking my breath away and pushing me against the wall while his tongue invades my mouth, pinning me in place with his body, caging me in with his arms, giving me no choice but to melt in the heat of his deep, searing kiss. My toes curl, and before I can help it, a whimper stirs in my throat. I don’t know if I should try to fight or take off my clothes. I’m so hot all of a sudden. So…hungry.
He pulls back, and I try to go with him, wanting more. I’m not ready to stop. And now he smiles fully, but it’s got a wicked edge to it, like he knows something I don’t. “Good night.”
I pull in a shaky breath, prepared to say the same, when a noise further down the hall steals my words. It’s Grace, the housekeeper, and from the corner of my eye, I watch her scurry down the stairs. Did she see us?
Either Matteo didn’t notice, or he doesn’t care. He only walks away while I slump against the wall and try to get a hold of myself.
This job just became so much more challenging.
4
MATTEO
“Boss? Are you okay?”
No. I’m the farthest thing from okay. I’ve been hellishly distracted all day—no, for the better part of a week, ever since Sarah showed up. Standing at the window of my office, I have a view of her and my daughter walking hand-in-hand. It’s a beautiful day, and Ophilia collects brightly colored leaves with Sarah’s assistance.
“Boss?” Bruno sounds legitimately worried when he joins me at the window. “Do you need anything?”
What a loaded question. There is something I most definitely need. “I’m fine. Is there anything else you want?”
His head snaps back a little, like he’s surprised at my abruptness. “No, I guess we have everything settled.”
“Good. Go earn your salary.” He leaves the room, and I’m not far behind. Unlike him, I head straight upstairs. She’s out of the house, which means she’s not here to catch me. Really, it wouldn’t matter if she did. This is my home, after all.
And now that she’s out of it, there’s only one place I need to go.
Right away, it strikes me that she doesn’t have much. Her closet and dresser are virtually empty except for a few basic pieces of clothing. What is it about her that makes me want to solve the mystery she poses? I have better things to do, not to mention much more critical.
But there’s not a damn thing I can focus on beyond this. Pressing my nose to her pillow to inhale the scent of her hair. This is where she sleeps, all alone. Night after night, I’ve forced myself to lock my door and stay away from hers, no matter how desperately I wanted to storm in here and take her. Claim her. She has a hold over me, and that’s dangerous, but I’m dangerous, too. And I can handle it. I know I can.
Though, right now, digging through her things like some pathetic stalker, I have to wonder.
Her hamper sits in the closet and is half-full. On top of the pile of clothes is a pair of lace panties. I reach for them, running my fingers over the cheap, flimsy lace before picking up the garment and holding it to my nose. Her musky scent fills my senses, and in an instant, I’m hard, practically breaking the zipper on my pants. So hard it hurts.
I have no choice but to lower my zipper and pull myself free, the panties still pressed close to my face. I breathe deep before wrapping my free hand around my cock and giving it a few experimental strokes. Pre-cum already dribbles from my tip, and I use it, running it up and down my length before giving in to the impulse that has practically ruled my existence for the past week.
Faster, faster. I imagine my face buried between her smooth thighs, that it’s her pussy I’m smelling, tasting, driving my tongue into while fisting my cock like my life depends on it. I bet she would be tight. I bet she tastes like the finest wine, sweeter than honey, rich and addictive.
