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Mia and Isabella pointedly avoid looking at each other. The argument between them earlier in the day must have been worse than I thought, and judging from what I’ve seen of Mia when she gets in a rage, I can only imagine the fallout.
A few days, perhaps, and they’ll be back to normal.
I wonder how much Mia knows about the intricacies of the deal between Isabella and Drago and if she already has a plan in place. I certainly didn’t tell her much beyond a glossed-over statement to prepare for trouble.
I settle, pausing when a man walks over with a bottle of red wine and pours my glass full. Mia’s plans don’t matter, not really. I’ve already set the pieces in place to get Isabella out of her contract. Not as many as I’d like and with no guarantees but I have the situation in hand.
“Ricardo.”
It takes me a moment to realize Edward has called my name, and I jerk to attention, bobbing my head in acknowledgment. “Sir?”
“How are things with the merger of the Accardi holdings?” he asks. “Carter informs me the exchange has gone smoothly up until this point, but I’d like to hear it from you.”
I take a great sip of wine, letting the dry red score my throat and trail heat into my gut before answering him. “The merger has gone as well as expected, considering the circumstances. There were a few people who did not agree to the transition and had to be dealt with accordingly. Otherwise, we’ve been lucky.”
And the putting down of anyone unwilling to shift from Accardi to Vittorio is just another day in the office.
I’m an Assante by blood, but Carter and my mother started our family, and theirs is the name we operate under. The Accardi empire hadn’t lasted because their prick of an heir overstepped boundaries and put Mia in jeopardy.
Edward sips his own wine, working the red around in his mouth while eyeing me. At last, he swallows, bobs his head. Smacks his lips. “How many?”
“A handful, no more,” Carter answered for both of us.
Isabella and Lucia don’t need to know about the men I’ve had to kill, the guns pointed to their heads like they’re rabid animals who are only a menace to society. Part of the reason, I’m sure, why her father has wanted her out of this business. It’s part of life.
Any employees who know too much about an operation and are unwilling to keep their mouths shut are shot. End of story.
“The bulk of my attention has been making sure of the smooth transition of the gentlemen's club, The Painted Hippo,” I continue. “It’s got a great location in town, and with a few tweaks, I believe it will be quite the asset.” For me.
I practically swallow over my tongue at the surprising bit of pressure against my crotch. The press of toes against the bottom half of my dick before they glide gently upward along my shaft.
I refuse to look at Isabella. From the corner of my eye, I see her spear through a bit of steak and lift it demurely to her lips.
She must have slipped off her shoes under the table where no one is able to see and now uses her bare foot to work my shaft. Payback for earlier? No doubt.
I clear my throat, struggling to remember what I’d wanted to say to Edward as Isabella massages underneath the head with her big toe. Finding just the right spot and grinding with only the most meager amount of pressure.
Fuck.
“The, ah, the club had management issues.”
A lump forms in the back of my throat, and every bit of blood in my body rushes to my erection. My cock surges against her foot, straining to reach her. Without pause, she slides the ball of her foot up and down, pausing at the mushroom tip before heading back south to the base.
“Carter tells me you do a wonderful job overseeing your own clubs, so it’s good to hear the Accardi holdings will be well looked after. It wasn’t a mistake to divide them between my management and yours.” Edward is nothing but blunt. “Thank you for proving me right.”
“Thank you for the compliment.” I somehow get the words out despite the stranglehold on my throat.
My dick thickens further. Isabella is as talented with her goddamn foot as she is with her mouth. Which makes no sense.
“What are your plans for the place?” Edward asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
How am I going to get the words out when every thought centers around the sensation of my cock, the pleasure shooting down toward my balls, making me jerk? Sweat breaks out beneath my arms where, thankfully, no one is able to see.
I take a beat to push some steak around on my own plate, the meat bleeding together with the gravy on the mashed potatoes.
“I’d like to have it be a safe…s-safe place for the dancers to entertain clientele who want to pay for the experience and pr-primo liquor. Upscale without pricing myself—” Damn me straight to hell.
I blink, and stars burst in front of my closed lids as Isabella’s large toe finds exactly the right spot at the underside of my cock. She slowly rotates, keeping the pressure consistent without being too harsh, and breath explodes out of my chest.
