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NERO
“This is a waste of damn time.”
I glance at Chase in the mirror. He’s standing behind me, watching as I fuck up tying my bowtie.
“Seriously, the ballet?” he continues. “What happened to doing business the right way? McKenna takes a walk with a couple of our guys, maybe we send a message to his wife. You can bet, he’ll be voting whichever fucking way we want. Not stupid trips out in your best tuxedo. C’mon man, this is beneath you.” Chase scowls.
I know he’s got my back, but he’s losing patience with this McKenna thing. I don’t love it either, but I’ve got my eyes on the bigger prize here. The payoff. And I’m determined to do whatever is necessary to get it.
“No,” I reply. “What’s stupid is threatening a big-shot politician. Do you want the FBI crawling up our asses again? That didn’t exactly work out well last time, did it?”
Chase’s frown deepens. The last time the FBI came after the Barretti organization, my father wound up in prison—where he’s still sitting to this day. It took us years to rebuild, and I’m in no hurry to mess with the feds again.
“Still, I don’t like this plan,” he grumbles. “That bitch shouldn’t be walking around like a free woman. We can’t trust her.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I challenge him, old betrayals still slicing through my gut. “She’s part of the reason my father’s been gone half my life. I wouldn’t trust her an inch. But we can use her.”
Chase smirks. “Oh yeah? And how are you liking using her so far? Did she pick up any tricks in Vegas?”
My jaw clenches, and I have to control my temper. Even thinking about the other men who may have laid a hand on Lily in the past ten years makes my blood hot with fury. Hell, I broke every bone in that street punk’s hand just for daring to touch her.
There’s no saying what I would do to any man who’d tried more.
But I don’t need Chase knowing just how crazy that woman still makes me. I’m supposed to be untouchable. The boss.
I force myself to let out a casual laugh. “None of your damn business,” I say, with a big wink. “But let’s just say… I have no complaints.”
Chase laughs, relaxing. Lucky bastard. I’ve been wound tight since the moment I laid eyes on Lily Fordham, the kind of aching tension there’s only one way to relieve. And dammit, I’ve tried: My cock’s nearly raw with the way I’ve been jacking off, night and day. Just the scent of her is enough to make me ravenous; the way she runs her tongue over her lips when she’s nervous.
When she wants me.
I wanted to put her in her place, show her who’s in charge now, but fuck, it’s hell being in the same apartment as her, knowing she’s just down the hall. I’ve nearly thrown her down and sated my hunger with her slick cunt a hundred times. Given it to her rough and deep, until she’s screaming my name; show her what she walked away from.
Just who she betrayed.
I give up on the bowtie and throw it down instead. Fuck. It’s that betrayal I’ve got to hold onto. Chase is right: I can’t trust her. She already blew this organization wide apart ten years ago, conspiring with her father to sell me out, blinding me with her innocent act, while she was taking me for a fool.
I won’t be her fool again.
I hear the click of heels on the floor, and then Lily arrives in the living room. I turn to look at her, and damn, if she isn’t still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid eyes on. A princess draped in rosy pink satin, clinging to every luscious curve.
The kind of body men go to wars over. The kind of face that makes them believe in God.
Fuck. Yet again, I find myself wondering why I didn’t have Chase just leave her body in a shallow grave in Vegas, along with the fucker who was trying it on. Debt paid. Score settled. End of the matter.
But I knew, deep down, the moment I laid eyes on her again, I could never let her come to harm. At my hand, or anyone else’s.
I just hope she holds up her side of this twisted bargain and then gets the fuck out of my life again.
“Where’s your necklace?” I ask as my eyes lock on her long, bare throat.
“I can’t wear the same thing to a social function two nights in a row,” she says, with a faint sneer.
“Or maybe you’re thinking you can get away this time without the tracker?” I retort.
“I’m not doing that again,” she says. She has the nerve to sound almost insulted.
“You expect me to take you at your word?” I growl.
