Blew his mind while you blew him!
I stifle a chuckle, and he glances over at me.
“It’s beautiful,” I say, quickly filling the silence. This hulking, tough guy isn’t big on intimacy. Which suits me fine. I’m already breaking so many rules with what I’m doing. First, I don’t spend this much time with the men I fuck. The fact that we woke up in the same bed was already pushing the boundaries. Then more sex the next day and a road trip? Andy Carter never does that kind of shit. It’s not like me at all.
Don’t forget the marriage proposal,babe.
Yeah. And that, too. I must be mad. But I just don’t see another way out.
“Kitchen, living room…bedrooms and bathrooms are that way.” His voice breaks into my thoughts as he sweeps an arm to gesture around the apartment. The Lower Manhattan loft is understated and masculine – much like the man who owns it. Rough-hewn beams support the concrete ceiling; it’s so high that there’s a mezzanine level above us that seems to have a library and reading area. A red brick wall dominates one side of the vast space, while the rest is open plan with windows that extend along the entire front of the living area. Beyond the windows, there’s a decent-sized balcony overlooking the bustling city streets.
It’s freaking amazing.
“You own this?” I say in amazement. He gives a curt nod. “I love it!” I do. I really do. These old pre-war buildings have history oozing from their pores. “Will… Could anyone find us here?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s held in a trust. No way to trace it to me.”
I heave out a breath, allowing myself to relax enough to stroll around the place, exploring. Rich red leather and chrome furniture fit the industrial architecture perfectly. The brick wall has a huge, framed black and white artwork set in the center of it. Something geometric and brutal. Another hint of the inner workings of the hard-edged man I’ve connected myself to.
“Hungry?” he asks. Seems the enigmatic Mr. Ricci has reverted to monosyllables now that we’re about to get married.
Fuck! Married!
“Starving!” I say because I need to distract myself from this situation.
“I ordered groceries to be delivered. Should be stocked by now,” he says, reaching for the refrigerator door and pulling it open.
“You did?” I say in surprise. “When?”
“We stopped for fuel. I called the agency that manages the place when I’m away,” he said.
I raise my eyebrows. “I’m impressed.” After my special “attention” on the drive over, I’m surprised he was able to think clearly. I consider myself to be an expert at giving head, and the man seemed to agree at the time. Truth be told, I’m a little unsettled that he recovered so quickly.
Am I losing my touch?
Not that I expected him to immediately declare his undying love or anything. Nor am I the kind of girl who’ll bend over backward to keep a man happy. The thing is, I don’t suck men’s cocks to give them pleasure. I do it to show them who’s in control. Because make no mistake, a man is never more vulnerable when there’s a set of sharp teeth around his family jewels. And to make it happen while he’s maneuvering a ton of steel at high speed? It’s like tying his hands and putting a noose around his neck.
But somehow, I think it’ll take a lot more than my fancy sex tricks to take control of Mateo Ricci. Even though he’s playing along with my latest plan.
Why?
Why the hell did he say yes?
I shrug it off. I’m not in a position to be asking too many questions right now. It’s enough that he’s prepared to help. And I’m pretty certain that there’s little chance of him buckling to my father’s influence. Or even Mark’s, for that matter. I have a feeling that this man is incorruptible.
Or maybe he’s already more corrupt than all of them put together. I think back to the way I met him. Second-in-command to a mob boss. Though Dario Caraldi turned out to be pretty decent…for a cold-blooded killer. At least, my best friend seems to think so.
Shoot! I’d better call Nikki!
“Mind if I make a couple of calls?” I ask.
“Knock yourself out,” he replies. “I’ll get dinner going.”
He cooks? I raise an eyebrow but say nothing. I move to the window of the apartment, and I wait for my call to ring through to Nikki. When she answers, her voice is hesitant.
“Babe, it’s me. I can’t talk long,” I say briskly.
“Oh my God, Andy, are you okay?” she blurts. “Mateo said he had you, but that’s all the information he gave us.”
