I point to one of the screens. “Who’s that guy?
“Associate of the Fagans.”
“The Irish? What the fuck is he doing in here?”
“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer. There’s a mic right above his head feeding data direct to Boston. It’s useful stuff.”
I quickly assess the other screens, telling myself it’s for purely professional reasons.
“Is that all you’re looking at?” Remo says. He’s too astute for my liking today.
I shoot him a look. “What are you implying?”
“Nothing,” he shrugs. “How’s Pfeiffer’spunishmentgoing? Does she realize yet what she did?”
My back teeth grind slowly. “She doesn’t remember me.”
He stares back, surprised. “Have you removed your mask?”
“No. And even if I do, I don’t think she’ll recognize me.”
He cocks a brow.
“She knows my name yet it doesn’t seem to prompt any recollection whatsoever.”
On the one hand, that pisses me off, but on the other… It's almost liberating. As long as she’s blissfully unaware of my identity and our past, I can do whatever I want with her.
“So maybe you need toexplainexactly what it is she did. She might be feigning ignorance—for her safety. Fuck knows I would if Il Diavolo subjected me to a month of forced intimacy.”
I don’t move a muscle.
“Thatiswhat you’re doing, isn’t it? Using her for kicks?”
After the other night I can say in full confidence thatiswhat I’ve been doing, but it’s not the whole story.
The truth is I’ve pleasured her and I want to continue.
I love the way her body responds to me and the sound of my name when she cries it out mid-climax. My teenage self iswalking around on a constant high knowing how fucking pliable she is for me now.
When I ordered her out of the room, it felt unfinished. She sucked my cock, made me come and then she left. I washed my hands of her—on the surface.
Beneath though, I wanted to drag her back into the room, lift her by the thighs, tear that green satin dress as I ram her up against the door and fuck her into next week.
But I can’t tell Remo that. All he can see is what he lost—what we all lost—because of what she did.
I’m itching to get her alone again. Our business with the Di Santo’s took me away from the club the last few nights and I’m already craving the taste of her skin.
I ache to put my hands on her but that’s her one condition. It’s a fucking awkward one at that. It means I can’t do half the things I want to, which of course, would have been her intention. I’m determined to find out why having hands on her body is such an issue for her.
At the same time, I can’t kiss her. After the first attempt when my head damn near exploded, that’s off the table for me. It was so good I know if go there again, it’ll be a slippery slope into mindlessness.
I need to keepsomemeasure of distance if I’m going to chew her up and spit her out at the end of the month. I rub my chin, my focus elsewhere. There’s plenty other stuff I can do to get myself off with her. I just need to get creative.
“Did you hear what I just said?”
Remo’s pissed off question pulls my attention back to the room.
“No.”