Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 280(@200wpm)___ 224(@250wpm)___ 187(@300wpm)
I hold my arms out. “Come here, please.”
There. I even said please.
She probably would’ve come without it, but I’m trying to soothe her. She walks over to me, wariness flickering over her expression.
I pull her to stand between my legs and stroke the sides of her hips. “He doesn’t think anything, baby. He knows I would fucking nail his dick to the wall if he even considered thinking something about my personal life.”
Her lips tug up in a reluctant smile. “What’s this personal assistant job?”
I slide my hands around to cup her ass. “I’m not gonna pay you to have sex with me, baby. Because that would be an insult, and I’ve already offended you that way before.” I slide my hands down her thighs, then up inside the skirt. “I just couldn’t have you in those other guys’ rooms. I would have to fucking kill them for looking at you in that dress. And I’d spank your ass red for doing any form of service for another man. Even if it’s your job. Understand?”
She shifts, squeezing her thighs together like I’ve just turned her on instead of spewed some irrational possessive bullshit that ought to make her run for the hills.
“Okay,” she says. “Thanks, I guess.”
I pick the phone back up and glance at the time. “So you go punch in, and I’ll order room service. What do you want for breakfast?”
Her face splits into a brilliant smile that makes me want to get on my knees and lick her until she screams again. “Pancakes and bacon. And the berries and whipped cream. And a half of grapefruit.”
I squeeze her hip and stand to give her a quick kiss. I want to spoil this girl, and the fact that she’s letting me this time produces a satisfaction almost as powerful as claiming her.
Sondra
He can’t stay away from me. I shouldn’t be so giddy about it, but I am. I know this roller coaster ride probably ends in disaster, but I just can’t get off.
I head to the housekeeping office to punch in. Of course Nico’s patronizing me by keeping me on as his personal housekeeper. If I had any pride or sense, I’d get my butt back to Corey’s place and refuse to play his out his fuck the housekeeper fantasies.
Especially considering the looks I get from the other maids when I show up.
Fuck. All 6080 Bellissimo employees probably know I’m sleeping with the boss by now.
I punch in and push the housekeeping cart up to Tacone’s penthouse suite. He’s not there yet, and I get started fast, wanting to finish quickly in case he wants to hang out.
The room service arrives before he does. It’s awkward answering the knock, but the waiter bows. “Good morning, Ms. Simonson. Where would you like the food?”
Oh holy hell. He’s giving his staff my name. I point to the table by the wall of windows and he leaves it there.
Nico comes in a few minutes later. I’m back in the bedroom, making the bed. “What the fuck are you doing?” he demands.
I should be used to his gruff manner by now, but I’m not. Still, I toss my pigtails as I turn. “What do you mean?”
“I invited you to breakfast, not to clean my fucking room.”
“I thought you got off on watching me clean.”
His lips twitch. He holds out his hand and my feet move to obey the gesture before my mind has even considered if it’s wise. I put my hand in his and he leads me to the living room and pulls a chair at the table out for me. “I definitely do, bambina. But I don’t want you to feel like a whore.” His tone is still curt. Impatient. He hasn’t sat down at the table with me, either. I get the feeling he’s not staying.
“So then I should actually do my job, right?”
He sighs. “No, fuck it. Let’s be honest. I do want you to be my whore. You’ll put on that outfit and prance around this suite for me, and I’ll pay any amount you ask of me—on the payroll or cash. So now you know. Think about your terms.”
I stare at him, too stunned to speak.
“Listen, I have to go—shit’s come up. I have family coming into town tonight, but can I take you to dinner tomorrow?”
I’m reeling. Good sense says get the hell out here. The Voice of Wrong says, “Sure.”
“Good. I’ll pick you up at six.” He takes a strawberry from the berry dish and holds it to my lips.
It’s hard to meet the intensity of his dark gaze as I take a bite.
Nico turns the bitten strawberry and looks down at it, then opens his mouth and finishes what’s left.
A shiver runs down my spine. But that’s stupid. It was just a strawberry. It’s not like he just completed some mafia ritual that forever bound me to him.