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Arlo claps his hands over his mouth. "I forgot the Mafia is dangerous and deadly. I won't mention it again."
I let out a snort. "How did you forget, angel?" I squeeze his ass. "You've asked me questions about my family all week. I find it hard to believe you forgot they were dangerous."
This is hilarious. It cracks me up that Arlo's so forgetful.
Arlo blushes as he leans into me. "I have a confession." He clears his throat. "I wouldn't normally say the Mafia isn't deadly. But you're so sweet to me, and you're a big teddy bear inside. If your family is like you, they wouldn't hurt a fly."
This boy will be the death of me. The fact that I'm a vicious killer shouldn't be lost on Arlo, but it is. He hasn't seen my dangerous side, and I pray he never sees my inner Joker come out. That'd be bad for both of us.
I growl as I hold Arlo's hand. "You haven't seen me in action, boy. I'll take you on a mission next week. Then you'll realize I'm not all marshmallow fluff and strawberry syrup."
Arlo laughs. "No food analogies, Daddy. You'll make me hungry."
"Deal with it." I clip out a grunt. "No insinuating I'm a fluff monster at my cousin's wedding."
Arlo rolls his eyes. "What mission? I've never heard about any special mission."
I keep it short and to the point. "Gianluca discovered a hot tip about a key Diavolo soldier two nights ago. He's visiting one of the Antonov's restaurant fronts in the Upper East Side tonight and planning a special operation."
This is top-secret intel I'm sharing with Arlo. It's wrong, because this opens Arlo up to danger. But at the same time, I can't let him think I'm a fluff ball.
I'm a vicious killer. I'm not in the habit of letting men, even adorable guys I happen to be fake dating, underestimate me.
Arlo lets out a wolf whistle. "Sure you are." He playfully rubs his nose against my shoulder. "I don't believe you, Daddy."
I tilt Arlo's chin up. "Why not?"
It's hard as hell to resist the urge to kiss him. In the sunlight, with my family surrounding us, Arlo looks so damn cute. I think back to the wonderful week we shared and turn into a marshmallow all over again.
Last week, Arlo and I bonded in multiple ways. We took bubble baths together and blew each other every night. Arlo loves rimjobs, and he adores when I use Mr. Green on him. I love it, too, and I'm so lucky he's mine.
Arlo pokes my ribs. "You'll be cuddling with me next week, Daddy. How will you plan a mission when you can't leave our pillow fort?"
"Humph."
Arlo kisses my cheek. "And then we're making heart-shaped waffles and alien cookies in the morning. Tell your friends you're busy."
I shake my head in amusement. Maybe I'm a fool for falling for Arlo this quickly. Maybe I'm desperate after my last relationship went down in flames. Or maybe, just maybe, Arlo's the boy I've waited for, the boy I've craved for years, and fate brought us together. Which is the most wonderful thing in the world.
"You're silly." I tickle Arlo under his armpits. "Are you wearing those green boxers I bought you last week?"
Last Wednesday, I took Arlo clothes shopping. He hadn't purchased new clothes since moving to Harlem, and he was still wearing the cheap hand-me-downs his mother picked up from relatives while he was in high school.
I bought Arlo a new wardrobe from the finest stores. We hit up luxury retailers like Louis Vuitton and Gucci. He was nervous because he's lived on a budget his entire life, but I told him to get used to it.
The beauty of being a billionaire is that shopping sprees don't affect my bank account. Bad business deals? Those hurt our funds. New t-shirts from Saks on Fifth Avenue? Belts from Gucci? They don't make a dent.
Arlo grins as he looks at his suit pants. "Yes. I'm wearing the pair you picked out."
I shoot Arlo a stern look. "Let me see. It's time for a checkup."
This is a role-play arrangement Arlo and I agreed on this past week. He started reading Daddy books on the brand-new Kindle I bought him and discovered new kinks. He loves when Daddies do mandatory checks on their boys at random times throughout the day to make sure they're following their agreements.
Arlo's cheeks flush pink. "Are you sure, Daddy?" His eyes flit around nervously. "We're surrounded by your family. I don't want to make a poor impression."
My dick throbs in my suit pants. "Unzip. I won't ask again."
This is also part of our agreement. My family won't mind if I check Arlo at Michael's wedding, because they've seen worse at the Little Bunny Club.
