The muscles in her face relax. “Okay, fine. I suppose that makes sense. But, in the future, I’d prefer you keep our families out of work-related matters.”
“Sure.”
She tosses her hair over her shoulders, and waves of glossy reddish-brown hair cascade down her back. Blonde highlights glint under the stark overhead lighting adding an extra dimension.
“Your hair is stunning. That color really suits you, and it looks very natural.”
A genuine smile ghosts over her mouth, transforming her beauty into something ethereal. “Thank you. Alexander was thrilled with my ‘virgin’ hair.” She makes little quote marks with her fingers. “He said the fact I haven’t ever dyed my hair made his job easier.” She shrugs. “Anyway, he sent me up here to check you were okay with it before he left.” The smile fades as she purses her lips. “I thought about stabbing him when he said that, but he’s too nice and too skilled to deprive the world of his talent.”
“UnlikesomeoneI could mention, he knows how to conduct himself appropriately and do what he’s paid to do.”
“I know how to act appropriately.” Her lips jut out in a pout. “The overly misogynistic commentary today is playing havoc with my professionalism. Every time a man says something disgustingly sexist, I have this crazy urge to cut their tongues from their mouths so they can’t utter anything so heinous ever again.”
“You’ll need to control those urges because you’re about to seduce a senior member of the Irish mafia, and you can bet the environment will be sexist.”
“I’m well aware and capable of dealing with it. It’s a job. What I don’t expect is to receive that treatment from my own kind.”
“Everything we are doing is for your protection.”
“I don’t see howyouhaving to rubberstampmynew hairstyle has anything to do with protection.”
I get up and walk around my desk, stopping behind her. “You’re tasked with seducing a powerful man, so a man’s perspective is all-important.”
“This is such bullshit, but whatever,” she says, tipping her head back to look up at me.
I reach for her hair, stopping at the last second. “Can I touch you?” Her eyes startle, and a chuckle rips from my lips. “Your hair, Gia. Can I touch your hair?”
“Why?”
“Humor me.”
She mutters something under her breath before conceding. “Fine.”
Threading my fingers through the silky-soft strands, I marvel at how luxurious her hair feels to the touch. Alexander cut some layers, and it looks thicker and glossier, and it feels amazing.
“Well?” she asks in a slightly breathless voice. “Do I pass inspection?”
My eyes lower to her chest for the first time, and I stop breathing. I was so entranced with her hair I didn’t even realize she’d ditched her red suit jacket and she’s only wearing a white silk camisole top over her red pants. From this angle, I have a decent view of her chest, and it’s possible I might be frothing at the mouth. Her breasts rest high on her chest, held together by a white silk bra with a lace overlay. They are fucking huge, and I’m practically drooling now. Visions of burying my face in her ample flesh accost me without warning, and I jerk back to put distance between us, removing my hands from her hair. I’m praying she doesn’t spot the semi growing in my pants.
“I meant my hair, you pig.” Her nostrils flare as she folds her arms protectively against her chest and storms past me.
Shit.
“Gia!” I call out after her.
“Fuck off,” she hollers before disappearing through my door.
I sigh as I reclaim my chair and spin around to look out the window. Is this what my life will be like over the coming weeks and months or however long it takes for us to shake down McDermott and identify the rat in our ranks? And why is there a fissure of excitement racing through my veins at the thought of spending more time with the fiery Gia Bianchi?
Chapter Eight
Gia
Iknock back a shot of vodka for liquid courage as I stand in front of the full-length mirror and inspect my reflection. I look as out of place as I feel in this new Brooklyn apartment. Joshua drove me here last night and someone—probably Mom—boxed up my things, and they were waiting in the large open-plan living space when we arrived.
The apartment isn’t huge. Just an open-plan living space with a modest living room, modern kitchen, compact laundry room, and a small dining area. The other side houses a main bathroom and a large en suite bedroom with a walk-in closet. It’s brand-new and clearly catering to young professionals. The design is minimalist with a mix of cool gray and white walls and plain furniture. There’s the odd splash of color, but it’s quite austere. It’s not something I’d choose for myself, but it fits the profile.
Instead of spending the day making my goodbyes to my family and my best friend, I’ve been holed up here, memorizing every minuscule detail of my fake background.
