Page 45 of The Billionaire's Distraction
For a split second, Tony almost laughed—an uncharacteristic, startled laugh.But he held it back.He didn’t want to scare her off by showing just how much she’d rattled him.Instead, he kissed her with the kind of hunger that said more than words ever could.
Before things could spiral again, another thought blindsided him.He pulled back, frowning.“Wait.Why do you think I’m mafia?”
Naomi actually laughed, soft and amused, as if the question itself were silly.“You’re one of the good guys in the mafia,” she explained, tapping a finger lightly against his chest.“But you and Sal are definitely the head of a mysterious, powerful organization.And I’ve overheard a few things the two of you have discussed.”She tilted her head, studying him carefully.“Am I wrong?”
“No,” he admitted, his jaw tight, his hands flexing possessively on her hips.“But that doesn’t mean I wanted you to know about it.”
She looped her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the ends of his dark hair.“A lot of people think nannies are just glorified babysitters,” she said softly.“But I have a degree in early childhood development.”Rising onto her toes, she pressed a featherlight kiss to his lips.“I’m trained to observe and notice things other people would rather I didn’t.”
Tony’s eyes turned grave.“I’m not going to sugarcoat this, Naomi.I’ve…done things.But Sal and I also run several large, profitable business that are completely legitimate.”
“Yeah, I suspected that as well,” she murmured, nodding, her eyes steady on his.“But you don’t need to justify your actions to me, Tony.I’ve heard about things that go on in wealthy households.Most corporate CEOs are corrupt bastards without consciences.Their actions are pure corporate greed and most of them are disgusting, unethical bastards.”She brushed her lips tenderly across his again.“Meanwhile, you fund a community center in one of the worst neighborhoods in the city.You pay for college for every kid who earns admission from that same neighborhood.You even paid off my student loans.”
She paused, searching his face—and the way his expression faltered, the way he stiffened, told her she was right.
“You didn’t think I’d figure that out?”she asked softly, fighting off a smile.
He leaned his forehead against hers, sighing deeply.“Don’t make me into a hero.”
Her hands slid down to his chest, the thudding of his heart warm and steady.“You mentor those kids downtown.You keep them away from drugs.You try to give them a future when no one else will.And when some of them don’t make it out, it’s not because you didn’t try.”Her voice dropped to a whisper.“I love you.You’re a good man, Tony.Underneath all that grit and growl, you’re good.And I’ll keep your secrets—as long as you love me.”
His chest tightened almost painfully.“I do,” he groaned, hugging her tightly, burying his face in her hair.His arms locked around her like he’d never let go.
Finally, he drew back, his eyes glittering with determination.“Now,” he rasped, “would you please let me get dressed so I can head down to the police station and ensure that the bastard who hurt you won’t go free?”
Naomi smiled, stroking his cheek before stepping away.“Yes,” she said.“As long as you make sure that Mark and Jacob’s mother is there to protect them before you do…whatever it is you’re going to do.”
This time Tony laughed.A real laugh.The sound was rough and rusty, but it filled the room with warmth.Naomi froze for a moment, startled—and then smiled, because that sound, more than anything else, told her he loved her.
He quickly adjusted his clothes, pausing long enough to lean down and kiss her again.A kiss that lingered, full of unspoken promises.
“I called Melissa Peterson as soon as you mentioned her earlier.She arrived a while ago and made sure the boys are safe,” he vowed.
“Thank you,” she whispered, touched.
Chapter 26
TomPetersonsatonthe edge of the metal cot, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.The clang of iron bars down the hall reverberated through the prison block, followed by the low drone of men arguing over cigarettes and cards.The stench of boiled cabbage and bleach filled the air, a constant reminder that this hellhole wasn’t designed for men like him.
Fifteen years.
Fifteen damn years of watered-down coffee, tasteless slop on a tray, and the same orange uniform.Fifteen years of regimented schedules—wake up at dawn, line up for headcount, shuffle to chow, pretend to care about the prison library or weight room, then shuffle back.Fifteen years without the sound of heels clicking across his marble floors, without the waft of perfume from a woman as she slid into his bed.Fifteen years without sex.
His jaw ached from clenching his teeth so hard.
He shouldn’t be here.He should be in his office, running his empire, watching the numbers climb on his revenue reports while his accountants found creative ways to keep the government’s greedy hands out of his pockets.He should be in his mistress’s bedroom, or with a woman on her knees, and his bourbon poured just right.
Instead, he was caged.
And worst of all—Melissa had won this round.
Melissa, with her frumpy clothes and her pathetic “I love teaching” smile.She was supposed to be broken.He’d taken everything from her—the kids, her job, her reputation.He’d dragged her through the mud until no respectable school district would ever hire her.She should have stayed down.She should have stayed quiet.
But no.
The courts had forced him, while awaiting trial, to put her in charge of the empire.Hisempire.His blood, his sweat, his brilliance.And what had she done?She’d sold it all, saying he would need the funds for his legal defense.
The business—the chain of sporting goods stores, the factory contracts, the warehouses—gone.Offloaded to his biggest competitor.His house—the one with the pool, the imported marble counters, the security gates—transferred to her name.She’d liquidated his business assets and gutted him like a fish.Every dime tucked away in her name now, while he was left to rot on a prison cot with a bag of state-issued toiletries and a roommate who snored like a chainsaw.
