Page 40 of Ruthless

Chuckling, Pantalone crosses the room to stand in front of my desk. “Ignore him.” The anemic light creates sharp angles on his mask. “He’s just fucking with you. We wouldn’t be able to sanction a union like that, regardless of how attached you might be. It’s too much of a risk.”

Smoke curls through my teeth as I grin, my expression the intention I once had to claim Sara as a permanent fixture in my world. A plan conceivedin the shadows of my past. “Good thing she’s not a risk, then.”

Rising to my feet, I circle the desk until less than a foot separates me from Pantalone. On my right, Zanni drifts closer but remains just out of reach.

Pantalone lifts a hand in silent reassurance, and Zanni cocks his head to one side. “Can we take that to mean that your revenge is going well?”

Right. They think I’m punishing her for being a cheating skank, which is the only reason they allow us to come and go in public so easily. They enjoy playing with their food as much as I do.

I shrug. “For me? Yes. For her? Not so much.” They both laugh and relax, and I make a show of doing the same. Resting the cigar in a small glass dish, I lean my hips back against the desk and cross my arms over my chest. “I have things under control here.”

“Oh, we know.” Pantalone nods toward my computer. “We took the liberty of checking in when we arrived.”

Zanni nods, the movement languid. “When you first arrived at the Paradiso the other night, we were concerned that your intention to punish the bitch had changed. Your subsequent behavior eased our worries, but a few of our members still have doubts, so we thought we’d drop by. I’m happy to see that we needn’t have bothered.”

I trace my teeth with my tongue while sizing them up, one after the other. Their masks might give them an inhuman appearance, but I bet they still bleed red.

If they threaten Sara, I might have to put that theory to the test.

The thought brings me up short.

Am I seriously considering killing Councilors for Sara?

The answer is immediate.

Yes.

But only because I’m possessive.

I may have needed to obtain the Council’s permission to bring her here, but I won’t tolerate any interference. Sara’s mine. She always was, and she will be until the day she dies.

And I’ll do whatever’s necessary to keep it that way.

Satisfied with the answers they came for, Pantalone and Zanni don’t stay any longer. As soon as they leave, I collapse at my desk and pull up the security interface. SilverTech specializes in surveillance, so I should be able to figure out where the system fell short. At first glance, I can’t identify any evidence of any tampering or interference, so my experts will need to perform a deep dive. In the meantime, I toggle the basement feed to live-only and purge the recording cache. The cameras are still hot, but they’re no longer committing to the drive.

The measure is a Band-Aid, but for now, it’ll at least ensure the Council won’t be able to tap into the footage. Rubbing a hand across my face, I curse beneath my breath. It’s well after midnight now, but I know sleep won’t come. Once the two Council dickheads left, calm settled over my office.

That peace is disrupted by the little moan that travels through my computer speaker.

I enlarge the camera feed from Sara’s room until the black-and-white image of her fills the screen. She twists beneath her blanket on the cot, her hair fanning out around her. At first, I’m worried she might be having a nightmare, but when she makes that sound again, a bolt of awareness shoots through me.

Her body’s arched, and she’s biting her lower lip. Her legs shift restlessly beneath the blanket, and I realize exactly what she’s doing before the next whimper. I’ve heard her sex noises so often that they’re ingrained in me, and my cock stiffens.

As her arm moves beneath the blanket, my mouth goes dry with need. I feel like a man lost in the desert, desperate for the tiniest sip of water. I should maintain better control over myself, but that tiny sample of her the other night at the club just wasn’t enough.

Once will never be enough again. At this point, I’m basically a slave to my own desire.

Sara was nearly mine.

I reach for my zipper, wincing as I free my length from the suffocating confines of my dress pants. I dial up the volume on the computer with a few clicks and lean back in my seat. Her heavy panting echoes through the room, and I shudder as I stroke my dick.

If I close my eyes, I can almost smell her, almost taste her. Cherries and roses and warm skin and her sweet pussy on my tongue. She finds her rhythm with a stifled sob, and I match her pace. The memory of her heat enveloping my fingers causes pre-cum to wet the head of my cock.

Releasing a hungry groan, I switch on the intercom.

“Move the blanket,coniglietta. Show me how you make yourself feel good.”

She startles at my voice, and her head tips in the direction of the camera, her eyes glowing like specters. Her body goes still, hesitating, but in the end, Sara is just as weak as I am.