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“I don’t need any of it.” I force the words through gritted teeth.
“Not what I’ve been told, and don’t take this the wrong way, sweetheart, but you don’t pay my bills.”
Kovu growls, his hand tightening impossibly around mine to the point of pain. I hiss out a breath, and he quickly loosens his hold, even if he’s still glaring at Rogers with a death stare that would make most men cower.
Rogers ignores him and hands me a stack of papers. “Have a read through the information. I’ll order all of them in so we have them here for whatever you choose in a few days.”
“A few days?” I squeak.
He nods. “Crew wants it done by the end of the week.”
“I don’t really give a fuck what Crew wants,” I snap.
Rogers shrugs. “Take it up with the boss man.”
He dismisses us by taking a seat and waving his hand in the general direction of the door.
I stand without much thought, the rage beating through my veins too much for me to think through. My father taught me better than this. Never let your anger fuel you. A clear mind is how you stay alive.
Kovu leads me out of the medical room and down the hall toward my room, but I stop in my tracks, forcing him to stop with me. “Little Lamb?”
“Take me to Crew,” I demand.
His eyes flash with uncertainty and heat. A strange combination, but one that has my heart stuttering. Fuck. Why does Kovu affect me like this?
“I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t give a fuck. Take me to him right now,” I demand, forcing as much confidence into my voice as I can manage, even if I constantly feel off kilter when these men are around.
He chuckles and takes my hand, dragging me toward the elevator I’ve only ever been allowed in when heading to the kitchen.
If Crew Black thinks he gets to dictate anything about my body, he has another thing coming. I’m already fucking trapped here, I refuse to cower to their demands.
If I’m going to lead the De Marco family, I’m going to need to be able to go toe to toe with assholes like Crew, and now’s as good a time as any to start.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CREW
“Thanks for letting me know, Leroy, I appreciate it.”
I toss my phone across the desk the moment I hang up with the current leader of the Thorne family. Charles reached out again to both him and Noah, which means he’s getting desperate.
The longer that asshole walks the streets of New York, the more on edge I become.
Voices at the door make me pause as I reach to pull my laptop closer. Bishop has been telling me for weeks that there’s something weird happening with the casino numbers, but I can’t see it no matter how long I stare at the spreadsheet.
“Camilla—” Kovu’s cut off when the door swings open and the little firecracker marches herself into my office like she owns the place.
I won’t lie. The sight of her in here, her hair pulled into a messy ponytail, her face free from makeup, and her wearing nothing but one of Bishop’s button downs, it’s fucking appealing as hell. But that doesn’t mean she should be in here. There are a number of compromising things in this office that she could see, and Kovu knows that. What the fuck was he thinking bringing her here?
I notice the scrunched-up paper in her hands moments before she slams it down in the middle of my desk. Anger radiates off her, and I can’t help but smirk when I notice the title of the first piece of paper.
Birth Control Implant.
“What the fuck is this, Crew?” she demands, her good hand falling to her hip. “What makes you think you have any say about whether I go on fucking birth control?”
I sit back in my seat and consider her. Fuck, is she stunning. But mad? Mad, she’s fucking spectacular. She’s fiery in a way I’ve never found appealing in the past. But now? Now all I want to do is bend her over my desk and spank her until she fucking bleeds. Not that that would stop her. No. I have a feeling there’s nothing we could do to our little menace that would break her spirit. And that’s why she belongs here. With us.
