“See?” She swishes the skirt to and fro. “Cute, right?”
I nod mutely. Cute is not the word I’d use. That dress is enough to incite me to rail her in it, literally anywhere. It’s so sexy, for a man of forty-two it needs a health warning about the potential for causing a heart attack.
“There’s one more package,” I manage to say. Dying words. I’m well known for my murderous tendencies in the London Mafia Syndicate, but I’m nowhere near as lethal as Caterina in that dress.
She gives me an eyeful of her luscious small tits—totally by accident I think—as she bends over to pick up the last package. Standing before me, I subtly rearrange my erection so it’s less visible as she opens the bag and peeks inside.
Then she quickly closes it again. “This is just…”
“What?” My curiosity is piqued.
“Nothing.” Pink tinges her cheeks.
“Moya koshechka, there’s no need to be embarrassed.” It can’t be any worse than me, a man old enough to be her father, getting hard from seeing her in a dress. Not even an especially revealing one. “Show me what you needed.”
She whimpers with reluctance and pulls out a white lace bralette and a pair of matching knickers.
My mind fills in the image of her wearing them, and my cock throbs.
“I’ll send them back,” she stammers.
“Or buy more.”
Her gaze flies to mine, her mouth an “o” of surprise.
“I don’t need that.” She twists her hands together. “I won’t be here long. You said the other apartment would be ready soon. That’s more than enough generosity.”
“I was going to discuss that.” My mind flicks through reasons for her not to leave, considering the best way to play them.
This is like playing blackjack. Her apartment was a trump card, but now I need another, but I mustn’t overdo it. Beinga mafia boss in London for over a decade has taught me the importance of tactics.
“Law enforcement haven’t got the men who came after you yet.” As I say that, irritation rises in me that I haven’t found the Italians responsible, and that Marco Brent, the only current London Mafia Syndicate member who is Italian, is being so bloody useless. The Blackstone kingpin has contacts though, and I’m hoping he’ll come through.
“I didn’t even think of the police!” she says in horror. “I should?—”
“Don’t worry. I ensured the relevant authorities were apprised of the situation,” I say soothingly. The authority in Angel being me, that wasn’t very difficult. “There’s nothing you need to do except stay safe until the men are caught.”
“They’re mafia though…” She worries her bottom lip with her teeth. “I don’t want them coming after you.”
“That’s not a concern for me.” And I can’t help the patronising tone that sneaks into my words. But since I’m keeping from her that I’m the kingpin of Angel for now, her safety isn’t the best reason for her to stay with me. “But your welfare is. This must be playing on your mind, and you mentioned your studying went better today?”
“Yes,” she agrees, but doubtfully.
“So you’ll remain here, and buy things for the next week.” It’s a statement of fact, not a suggestion.
“I don’t want to be excessive.” She shifts uncomfortably.
“You won’t be.” And I really wish she would. I’d be delighted. “What do you need?”
She shrugs. “Just the stuff from my apartment.”
“No. If they’ve put any tracking devices onto your possessions—they said they’d know if you contacted your parents, correct?—they could be monitoring you. Anything you need, I’ll buy.”
Anything she wants, I’ll give to her if sheasks.
Stupid moral code, it has never appeared before. I should push her down on this sofa, hold her still, and take what I want.
“I have to study properly.” Her chin tilts up, resolute. “I have to do well in my exam, so I graduate from my degree. My parents think that’s important. So, I’ll need my laptop.”
