Chapter Four
It took another ten hours of work—with Logan at his computer doing his cyber-god thing, and Gideon on the phone with his connections—but Gideon and Logan had finally scrubbed every bit of that AI image and its aftermath from the internet. Logan had also found the guy Robbie Wilkens hired to create the image in the first place, and he’d given that man’s address to Lucian, their younger brother, who was best described as silent, deadly, and a little…unhinged.
As brothers, they would kill for each other, but Lucian was the only one of them who’d ever actually done it.
And was good at it, even though none of them ever asked for details—not that he’d tell them anything even if they wanted to know.
His head aching from hours of mental grinding, his body aching from the tension in his muscles, and his anger roiling, Gideon was so not in the fucking mood to deal with bullshit when Isabella Motherfucking Mancini slunk into his office too fucking early.
The woman’s painted lips gleamed in the overhead light as she smiled her viperous smile, her eyes glinting.
Brushing her long, blonde hair off her shoulder as she walked, she stopped just on the other side of his desk, crossing her arms over her waist in a move he knew meant to draw attention to her breasts. He’d give it to her, she was a beautiful woman—long legs, fuckable body, a face to launch a million ships—but that’s where the beauty stopped. Inside, beneath the Mafia princess glamor, was a creature of vanity, arrogance, and cruelty.
“You look tired, Gideon, darling…” she practically purred, tipping her head to the side, her dark brown eyes slowly scorching along his body, taking in the freshly donned suit he’d put on that morning after a quick shower.
Because running an international business empire often required staying in the office all hours, his massive office suite included a full bathroom and walk-in closet, and a small, window-less bedroom designed to for him catch a few hours of sleep between overseas calls during a crisis.
“Tough night?” Isabella continued, her gaze, once again, devouring him from his head to his Italian shoes.
There was a sharpness to her gaze; an ownership and possessiveness that made his blood turn to ice and his guts churn.
Fuck, he did not need the Mafia princess getting any motherfucking ideas—he was already having enough problems with the one woman he had, he didn’t need another one to add to the fucking mess.
Snarling, annoyed at her fucking gall, he replied, “Why are you here, Isabella?”
And why does it feel like you have some venomous plan in the works?
After the hours he’d poured into dealing with Wilkens, the AI photo and the fallout, and Logan’s frustrating sideways glances every time Gideon looked at his watch, Gideon was barelyholding back the beast, snapping and growling to get at the bitch in front of him, tear out her throat, and get home to Kendra…sleeping all warm and soft and sweet in their bed.
It wasn’t one of their usual fuck days, but—goddamn—he needed a release for the stress and the rage turning every inch of his body into a vibrating tower of desperate, carnal demands.
Fuck, if Isabella hadn’t come uninvited, he’d have taken himself in hand in the bathroom and jerked himself to images of his lush wife, naked, pink, and whimpering as she took his cock. And since he was an asshole, but not a cheating one, he refused to even consider letting the woman standing before him help in the “relief efforts.”
No, he wasn’t a cheater, which meant he only ever desired his wife—despite what the tabloids were saying about him and Isabella Mancini.
How long had it been since he’d even seen Kendra? Fucked her? Breathed in that delicious warm sugar-cookie smell that always lingered on her heated skin? Days. Too many days.
The beast inside whimpered, as though it missed her.
Fuck! Get a grip!
Gideon hadn’t been home yet, hadn’t seen Kendra, but that couldn’t be helped, because after he finally left Logan’s office, there wasn’t enough time to get to his penthouse on Billionaire’s Row, shower, dress, and then get back to the office for the next call with Mancini, who demanded a report on the “mistake” first thing in the morning.
Isabella swanned over and sat on the loveseat against the far window, where he’d set up a lounge for the more casual business meetings, the lunches he shared with his brothers, and those long nights when sitting on his throne behind his desk became too much.
“I’m here, darling Gideon, because I heard about what happened.” She peered at him, faux pity and concern in herdark eyes. She tsked, shaking her head. “When Daddy told me, I knew it had to have been a lie—Gideon Maddox doesn’t make mistakes, so how could he miss something so damaging as a picture of my brother and the mayor’s brother?”
Of course, she knew the details, but there was something about how she spoke with such confidence about it that made his spine snap straight.
Picking up his cell from his desk, he shot a quick text to Logan, who was more than likely still awake, then slipped the phone into his pocket.
“If you know about the picture, then you know it was an AI fabrication meant to grab headlines and stir up trouble,” Gideon replied, his voice strained at holding back the brimstone he really wanted to rain down on the Mafia bitch.
Fuck, he didn’t like her—never had. He’d first met her when she was a toddler on her nanny’s hip. Over the years, he’d watched her grow up in the Mancini household as the pampered only daughter of the Tempesta Family underboss. As she’d grown, she’d become more vain, more narcissistic, more demanding, greedy, and cruel. Whatever Isabella Mancini wanted, she got, and she’d wanted Gideon Maddox for ten years.
“Of course, I know, Gideon, but my father is old school; he has no understanding of AI or just how much power it can wield—but I do,” she’d said, her voice turning sultry. “I could help you with him, Gideon, help smooth things over with Daddy.” She crossed her legs, slowly, allowing the slit in her body-hugging pencil skirt to ride up until the lacy top of her black thigh-high stocking was exposed.
She caught him noticing and smirked, like she’d just caught him ogling her—which hadn’t been the case.
