Without his expression so much as shifting, Marco flattens his right palm on the marble, waiting for me. I know from experience that the faster this is over with, the better for everyone. So I raise the mallet quickly and smash it down on his fingers as hard as I can. The familiar crunch of breaking bones accompanies the thwack of the mallet hitting its target.
Marco grunts in pain, but that’s his sole reaction. He knows the score.
Behind me, Isla gasps. “Oh my God.”
“You’re going to be on Lucky’s crew until the breaks heal,” I tell Marco, looking him in the eye. “You’re fortunate I didn’t chop them all the fuck off.”
He nods and lowers his head. “Sorry, boss. It’ll never happen again.”
This isn’t entirely his fault, but he’s the one who’s going to bear the brunt of it this time. I can’t break Isla’s fingers. Not without having a lot of explaining to do to Priest. And besides, I don’t have the stomach for physically hurting her. But she doesn’t need to know that.
“Have Donny tape them together for you,” I tell him. “You can go now.”
“Thanks, boss.”
Marco hightails it out of the kitchen. I toss the mallet onto the counter with a clatter and wait until I hear the penthouse door close before I face Isla. She’s sitting right where I left her, mouth open, her eyes wide.
“You just broke that man’s fingers.”
I shrug. “Like I told Marco, he’s lucky I didn’t chop them off.”
It’s a small price to pay for putting her in danger and allowing her to circumvent my orders. A really fucking small one.
She shimmies off the counter and lands on her bare feet. “Chop off his fingers? Are you kidding me?”
When she tries to go around me, I step into her path, forcing her to look at me.
“What do you think the Russians would have done to you if they’d been able to take you off the street today? Do you think they would have had a polite conversation with you? That they would have invited you over for tea and fucking scones?”
She winces like I hit her. “I have no idea what they would have done, and I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know.”
“You’re right. You don’t want to know.” I get in her face. “Listen to me, and listen good because I’m not going to say this again. If you leave this penthouse without my permission, I’m going to chain you to your bed until Priest gets back from his honeymoon.”
Actually, that idea has some merit, and for all the wrong reasons. This is not an opportune time for my dick to wake up, and yet, here we are.
But true to form, Isla isn’t cowed. “I’m here to do my best friend a favor. A favor that has absolutely nothing to do with you. I understand that there’s danger inherently involved in this, but that doesn’t mean you get to dictate to me.”
I give her a smug grin. “Keep using your professor words like that, and I might just get a hard-on.”
“You’re a sick fuck, you know that? You just broke a man’s fingers, and you’re thinking about your cock.”
She’s standing toe-to-toe with me, chin up, defiant and hot as fuck. I want to kiss her. To wrap my hand around her luscious waves and feed my dick between those pretty pink lips. But I can’t afford to indulge in this woman ever again.
I dip my head a little lower, until our noses are almost brushing. “I can promise you that the Bratva are so much worse,tesoro.”
“He didn’t deserve what you did to him,” she bites out, her breath ghosting over my lips, she’s so close.
The scent of tea mixes with her perfume, and the urge to lick her from head to toe is strong. Even though that’s not what I came here for.
“No, you deserved it. So don’t leave this fucking penthouse again without asking me.” I straighten. “Understood?”
She won’t say it. Just gives me a stubborn glare, her jaw tense and tight like she’s holding everything in.
“If I had known what a bastard you were, I never would have let you into my room that night,” she says at last.
“Liar.” My lip curls. “You would have begged me anyway, and we both know it.”
Then I slip around her, leaving her standing alone in the kitchen, the meat tenderizer lying there on the marble counter like a fucking calling card.
