CHAPTER THIRTEEN
PIGGY
I needto talk to her about why I came here. It wasn’t just to fuck, although I won’t complain about that part… ever. As much as I don’t want to bring this shit up, it is what it fucking is, I guess. And it needs to be discussed.
With our legs tangled together, I gently glide my fingertips up and down her bare back as soothingly as possible before I speak. She’s soft and warm, her body practically melded into mine, a sensation that I didn’t realize I’d missed so much until now.
“You wanna talk to me about Dante Barone, Mill?”
She lifts her head, and when her eyes find mine, the only way I can describe her expression is… terrified. She doesn’t speak immediately. Instead, she places her palms on the center of my chest and pushes up, straightening her elbows, her eyes never leaving mine.
“What?” she hisses.
Arching a brow, I clear my throat. “I’m guessing you know exactly who that is, then?”
She presses her lips together and rolls them a few times, then closes her eyes before she exhales a long breath. When she opens her eyes, she starts to shift away from me, no doubt feeling the need to cover up, to put some kind of armor or barrier between us.
I don’t let her.
I wrap my arms around her. I like her naked and close. I wonder offhandedly if I could keep her this way, if she would let me lock her up in my shitbox place just like this—naked, satisfied, soft, and sweet. I fucking love it.
“I don’t want to talk about him, but I’m going to have to,” she murmurs.
Her words come out strained, almost as if she has to force them out because they almost pain her to say them aloud. I tuck her hair behind her ear. It’s wild and sexy, tangled from my fingers, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
“I think it’s time to go ahead and tell me why you’re back and what he’s doing here.”
“He’s here?” she asks.
My lips twitch into a humorless smile. “You know he is.”
“I do,” she exhales. “I’ve sensed it for a few days at least.”
I let out a hum while pulling her a little closer. I don’t like her face being so far from me, even if the view of her tits is magnificent. I’m a little surprised, with her being in Vegas for as long as she has, that she didn’t get them done. Not that they need to be. They don’t. They’re fucking perfect as they are. Always have been.
“Who is he?” I demand. Though I can’t stop thinking about her tits, I need to focus on the task at hand, then maybe the tits when she’s finished explaining the situation.
“Dante Barone was a man I met at the club in Vegas. I didn’t know he was a real mobster. I just thought he was playing at one. He was wining and dining me. I didn’t usually date men whocame to the club. That was always a strict rule of mine, but he was persistent.”
Her words piss me off, but not because there was another man in her life. I mean, in all honesty, that pisses me off, too, but that’s not something I can be mad at. I’ve been with countless women. It’s because she didn’t normally go with men from the club, yet broke her rules because he pushed it. She relented and then had to run for her life.
“Why did you break your rules?” I ask.
I want to know what it was about this piece of shit that made her agree to date him. That made her break her personal rules. I want to know what the fuck was going on with him, and then I want to know what the fuck she saw.
Because she saw something she shouldn’t have. I know without a doubt that’s what fucking happened. I can feel it in my bones. There is no way he’s followed her this far just because he likes fucking her. This goes deeper than that.
“He was persistent. I told you.”
Persistent. There is more than that. “Millie,” I warn. “You’re going to need to give me more than that.”
She presses her lips together before she lets out a heavy breath. I can tell she doesn’t want to tell me any of this, but I don’t give a fuck. I want to know what the hell is going on so I can come up with a game plan.
Because there will be a game plan.
I am going to kill that motherfucker. I didn’t like him when I pulled him over, and I like him even less now.
“He is flashy. He has money and loves showing it around. He loved showing me off, too. It was fancy parties, connections, all that. But I was still hesitant, and then he invited me to a party one night. I didn’t want to go. It was my only night off, but he was beyond persistent. He was insistent.”
