"And you think it’s Vincent? Acting alone? Could he have an accomplice?"
"Possible but unlikely. We're careful about security." I scrolled through the transaction history. "But if he's workingwith the Costellos, they might have provided resources. Technical support. Someone to help him bypass our systems."
Emilio was close enough that I could smell his shampoo. Something clean and simple that suited him. I wanted to bury my face in his hair and breathe him in. Wanted to push him down on this couch and—
Focus. Work first. Pleasure after.
We spent two hours reviewing the financial records. Emilio built a timeline showing when the embezzlement started, how it escalated, and how it correlated with increased Costello family activity in our territory. He was brilliant at pattern recognition, at seeing connections I'd missed.
"This is good work," I said finally, closing my laptop. "Excellent, actually. You've built a compelling narrative showing coordinated harassment designed to weaken us financially while creating legal problems."
"It's circumstantial. We'd need hard evidence linking Vincent to the Costellos to make it stick." He rubbed his eyes, tired from the focused concentration. "But it's a start."
"It's more than a start. It's exactly the defense strategy we need." I stood and offered him my hand. "Come on. You've been staring at spreadsheets for two hours. Let me give you a tour of the house while your eyes recover."
He took my hand. Let me pull him to his feet. We stood close enough that I could feel his body heat, see the way his pupils dilated when I didn't immediately step back.
"A tour," he repeated. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"We're calling it whatever you want it to be." I traced his lower lip with my thumb. Watched his eyes darken. "Though I'm hoping by the end of the tour, you'll have seen my bedroom from several interesting angles."
His laugh was breathless. "You're very confident."
"I'm very observant. You've been hard since we sat down on that couch. You keep looking at my hands like you're imagining what they'd feel like on you. Your breathing changes every time I move closer." I leaned in until our mouths were almost touching. "I know what you want, Emilio. The question is whether you're brave enough to take it."
"I'm not brave. I'm terrified."
"Good. Fear and desire make an intoxicating combination." I kissed him softly. Just a brush of lips. A promise of more to come. "Let me show you my home. Then let me show you what it's like to stop being afraid."
I led him through the house, pointing out rooms and features while tension built between us with every step. The kitchen with its professional-grade appliances. The gym where I worked out my stress. The library filled with first editions worth small fortunes.
And finally, the master suite.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the grounds. A bed large enough to get lost in. Furniture that cost more than cars. Everything designed for comfort and luxury and the kind of debauchery I was planning to introduce Emilio to.
He stood in the doorway like crossing the threshold was crossing a point of no return. Smart man. It was.
"Last chance," I said quietly. "You can still change your mind. I'll take you home. No judgment. No consequences."
"Stop giving me outs." He stepped into the room. Closed the distance between us. "I'm here because I want to be. Because I want you. Stop asking if I'm sure and just—"
I kissed him. Swallowed whatever he'd been about to say and replaced it with the taste of me. He responded immediately, hands fisting in my shirt, pulling me closer like he couldn't get enough.
I walked him backward toward the bed, kissing him the whole way. When the backs of his knees hit the mattress, I pushed him down gently and followed him onto the expensive sheets.
"Tell me what you want," I murmured against his mouth. "I need to hear you say it."
"You. I want you. I want—" He broke off when I bit his lower lip gently. "Fuck. I want everything."
"Everything is a big category." I started unbuttoning his shirt, revealing skin I'd been fantasizing about. Smooth and warm and trembling under my touch. "Be specific, Emilio. Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you."
"I don't—I'm not good at—" His breath hitched when I traced the line of his collarbone with my tongue. "I want your hands on me. Your mouth. I want you to fuck me until I can't remember why this was a bad idea."
Christ. Hearing those words in his voice went straight to my cock. "That I can do."
I stripped him methodically. Shirt first, revealing lean muscle and pale skin that flushed beautifully under my attention. Then his jeans, pulling them off along with his underwear until he was completely naked beneath me.
Gorgeous. Even better than I'd imagined, and I'd been imagining obsessively.
