Page 48 of Ruthless Daddy
She laughed, low, the kind of laugh that was more about air than sound. “I remember. Are you going to punish me if I break the rule?”
I didn’t answer. I wanted her to see the answer on my face, in my hands, in the way I was already clenching the edge of the table to keep from grabbing her and pinning her to the wall.
She went to the bedroom. The door shut soft. I listened for the sound of her moving in the closet, the small thud of her pulling on the new underwear I’d picked. It was cotton, pale blue, soft and clean, but the idea of her putting it on because I wanted her to was more erotic than anything I could have put into words.
She came back out in the jeans, the blue bralette under the white t-shirt. She looked gorgeous, truly perfect. She ran her hands through her hair, not bothering to check if it was straight, and then came and stood in the middle of the kitchen, both hands at her sides, waiting for me to do the next thing.
I wanted her right there, up against the counter, but I didn’t. Not yet.
I said, “What are you thinking right now?”
She didn’t even flinch. “I’m thinking about what would happen if I broke the rule on purpose. If I went in the bathroom and touched myself until I screamed. If I made you come in there and make me stop.”
I felt the blood rush to my cock, hard and fast. I kept my voice steady. “You sure you want to find out? That you want to test me so soon?”
She nodded, slow. “I want to know what happens when I make you mad. I want to know if you’ll keep your promise.”
I leaned in, both palms flat on the counter. “You’re not going to win, Angela.”
She smiled. “We’ll see about that, won’t we?”
My phone buzzed on the table. I looked at it—Marco. I looked back at her.
I said, “I have to take this.”
She shrugged, like it was no big deal, but the heat between us didn’t go anywhere. It just sat there, banked and simmering.
“Seems like you can take whatever you want, whenever you want.” Her hand dropped to her chest, landing against the softness there. My dick was going fucking berserk.
I swallowed the lust, then walked into the other room to answer the call. My hand was shaking, my body trembled.
How the fuck was I meant to resist her?
Marco’scallrantwohours, maybe more. I stood at the window with the river below and the city crawling past, phone pressed to my ear, listening to the scuff and crackle of my cousin’s breathing as he worked the keys at his end. Sal joined on a three-way, his voice as cold as the river, no patience for anything but the facts.
“Halberd’s old fixer was in Jersey last night, but left before we got eyes,” said Marco. “We think he’s looping through, not settling. This is all C-list talent, Pi. But the money’s real.”
I said, “The Detroit Bratva’s in town.”
Sal, clipped: “They have at least one more pair. The two you and Tonio handled were not the primary team.”
“Which means they’re waiting for a window,” I said.
“Or for you to make a mistake,” said Sal.
I let the silence ride a second, then shifted to the next problem. “Any hits on the Moretti network?”
Marco: “Gemma’s in Boston, and she’s locked down tight. Nothing from her side. The only vector is here. And she’s not the one they want.”
I sipped coffee, let it cool in my mouth, let the facts line up. “The girl is the only actionable target, then.”
No one said anything for a while.
Sal finally said, “You have it contained?”
I said, “Yes.”
He waited. “And you’re following the protocol?”
