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Ashley Morrow, whoever you are, you’re mine.
"You’re so fucking wet," I murmur, my mouth against the swell of her breast, and I kiss up the curve, feeling her softness. So soft, so perfect. "You’re mine," I say, as her breath catches.
"Who are you, I?—"
"Hush," I command, and I feel her shiver.
"But the rules," she says, "this is— you can’t?—"
"I can," I tell her, "because you’re mine. Say it."
She looks up at me, and I can see the struggle on her face, the battle inside her. She wants to submit to me, and she doesn’t want to admit it. I can see it on her face.
I wait, patiently.
"I’m yours," she whispers, her cheeks flushing, and a soft moan leaves my lips, the words making me so hard I could burst.
"Again," I demand, and she swallows, her throat bobbing. But she doesn’t get a chance. The door bursts open, and Heather is standing there, her hand on her hip, a furious expression on her face.
"What the fuck are you doing, Luca? You can’t?—"
"I can do whatever the fuck I want," I snarl, "and you know that." She gives me a look that could set light to stone, and for a moment, my more sensible nature grips me, when what I want is for Ashley to be gripping her cunt around my cock. I could murder Heather, and I might do that.
"If you don’t get out of here," Heather hisses, "you’ll be banned for life, and don’t think for a second I wouldn’t do it."
I glare at her. She can, technically, ban me from coming onto the working floor of the club during work hours. That’s a right I give everyone in my organization for the public-facing establishments, but only because of the immense trust that I place in my people, and they in me. And right now, I know I had better listen to her. I’m acting like fucking Ricky.
That’s not who I am, and it’s not the man that’s been ruling this city and keeping things under control for over a decade.
I look down at Ashley, and I see a glint of fear in her eyes, the same look she had on the stage when that mouth-breather grabbed her, the same look she had in her eyes as I dragged her upstairs.
It makes something in my chest lurch, and a cold chill run through me.
No.
I’m not him.
"Get dressed," I snap at her, and she does, fumbling with her clothes. I storm out of the room, Heather, trying to grab me as I go, but I shake her off. "We’ll speak later," I grit the words out. I need to clear my fucking head, because what the hell just happened?
I need to get out of here.
"Are you even listening, goddammit?"
I’m sitting at the table, staring down at the spreadsheet, and all the numbers are just blurring together. I can’t focus, and Dani is furious, pacing the room.
"Yes," I mutter, and she makes a disgusted sound, and kicks the leg of the chair I’m sitting on. Across from me, Matteo is giving me a look, like he doesn’t know what’s wrong with me. It’s been nearly a week, since I held her in my arms and made her mine, and I cannot think of anything else.
True to my promise to myself, I’ve stayed away, because I am not this weak, and I’m not going to let this obsession, this thing, this madness, take over my life.
Not like he has.
Dani kicks the chair leg again, and I sigh, pushing it out.
"Alright, tell me what you want, what you need?—"
"You to listen for once," she says, crossing her arms as she glances at Matt and Gio. They’re nearly identical, so close in appearance as to be twins. Being the middle brothers, they fight a lot less than me and Ricky do, almost like they are twins, but instead of sharing a womb, they share an office. And Dani, when they can pry her away from her computer.
"You’ve been ignoring me all damn week, Luca, and it’s driving me crazy. It’s driving us," she gestures wildly to my brothers, and then back to herself, "crazy. Our territory is being eaten up, and it’s not the usual outsiders thinking they can take a bite of Boston."
