"I won't." I gathered my things, hyperaware of his presence behind me as I moved toward the door.
"Emilio."
I turned back.
"Wear something comfortable. We're going to be working late."
The words were innocent. The look in his eyes was anything but.
I left before I could do something stupid like cancel my evening plans and demand he take me to bed right now. Made it to the elevator before my knees went weak.
Thomas was indeed waiting in the parking lot. Black car, tinted windows, the kind of vehicle that screamed money and discretion. My beaten Honda was conspicuously absent.
"Mr. Vitale had your vehicle taken to Premier Auto," Thomas said as I slid into the back seat. "They'll have it ready in a few days. Good as new."
"Of course he did." I leaned back against the leather seats and closed my eyes. "Does he always make decisions for people without asking?"
"Mr. Vitale is a man of action, sir. He sees problems and solves them." Thomas pulled smoothly into traffic. "Where can I take you?"
I gave him my address and spent the drive home thinking about tonight. About what I was agreeing to by showing up at Sandro's estate. About how completely I was compromising myself and how little I seemed to care.
At home, I showered and changed into casual clothes like Sandro had suggested. Jeans and a button-down. Packed my laptop and the case files I'd need. Tried not to think about the fact that I was packing an overnight bag for a man I barely knew but couldn't stop wanting.
At 6:45 PM I was ready and pacing my apartment. At 6:55, my phone buzzed.
Thomas is downstairs. Don't keep me waiting.
I grabbed my bag and laptop and headed down to where the black car was idling at the curb. Thomas opened the door without a word. I got in.
The drive to Westchester took forty-five minutes through early evening traffic. I spent it reviewing financial documents and trying not to think about what came after the work was done. Trying not to imagine Sandro's hands on me. His mouth. His body pressing me into expensive sheets while the estate sprawled around us in darkness.
Failing completely.
We pulled up to gates that opened automatically. Beyond them, a long driveway wound through manicured grounds to a house that was more mansion than home. Modern architecture. Glass and stone. Flood lights illuminating gardens that probably required a full-time staff.
This was where Sandro Vitale lived. Where he'd invited me to spend the evening reviewing financial records and then—
Then whatever happened next.
Thomas opened my door. "Mr. Vitale is expecting you in his study. Through the main entrance, first door on the right."
I walked up to the massive front door on legs that felt unsteady. It opened before I could knock.
Sandro stood in the doorway, still in his work clothes but with his shirt untucked and his tie removed. He looked relaxed. Dangerous. Exactly like a man who'd gotten everything he wanted and was prepared to take more.
"Emilio. Welcome to my home." He stepped back to let me in. "Come in. We have work to do."
I stepped across the threshold knowing I was making a choice that would change everything.
Knowing I couldn't turn back now even if I wanted to.
Knowing I didn't want to.
The door closed behind me with a soft, final click.
And I was exactly where I'd been heading since the moment I'd first seen Alessandro Vitale's photograph in that case file.
In too deep to save myself.
