She arches a brow.
“You can’t expect me to have a rational conversation when you’re half naked and your nipples are whispering to me.”
She cracks up at that, and her boobs jiggle. Not helping my now painful hard on.
She presses them together, and the only thing that would make the image more perfect would be if my dick was wedged between them. “They’re not whispering, they’re yelling at you to tell me what the fuck you were going to say.”
Brushing her leg against my cock, she hums. “I see you like talking titties. I always knew you were a deviant.”
It’s tempting to shut up her sass by sticking my deviant cock in her face and telling her to suck on it, but someone knocks at the door, and the two of us scramble to reach her discarded shirt.
When she tugs it over her head, she nods. “Okay, I’m ready. But for the record, we’re not done with this conversation. Summoning someone to my door because you don’t want to talk about whatever you were thinking about won’t get you out of the discussion.”
I’m still chuckling when I tug the door open, but it’s short-lived, as my father—who doesn’t wait for an invitation, charges through the door, striding at me with his finger outstretched.
“Papá?”
“Don’t you Papá me, you little shit. You’re avoiding me.” He sends a glare at Edith on the couch and every primal, regressive instinct zings to life as I angle my body so it’s between him and my girl. “What the fuck are you playing at?”
Walking me backward, he launches into a diatribe in Spanish, questioning my loyalty, my capabilities, and scolding me for having the sheer audacity to force him to have to leave his golden palace to slum it on my side of town.
This pompous fucker doesn’t know when to quit. It’s on the tip of my tongue to launch every missile in my proverbial armory right back at him. But the air, and the words, are punched from my body when my father shoves me against the wall.
Edith gasps. “Mr. de la Peña, this isn’t appropriate.” Nails scrape against fabric. She’s trying to stand up, and while I’malmostsure that he won’t harm her in any way, I’m notcompletelysure.
“Stay out of this, Edith.” His snarl is unkind, and I want to rip his face off for disrespecting my woman.
Squaring off to my dad wasn’t on my bingo card for the day, but these things happen, right? I straighten my spine, channeling every lesson in negotiation and conflict resolution he and his team have ever taught me.
If there’s one upside to having been the chosen one from a young age, it’s that my training began early. “Papá. You need to leave, and you need to leave right now.”
“I’ll leave when I’m good and ready to leave.”
“If you don’t calm the fuck down, I’ll make you leave.” My throat tightens as the words tumble from my lips. I have never disrespected Papá like this before. Not once. The words are foreign in my mouth. They taste bitter, and my stomach rolls and rolls as it waits for his reaction.
He laughs before patting me on the chest. “Is that what you’ve been doing with your free time,mijo? Stand-up comedy?”
There’s no smell of alcohol on his breath, so he mustn’t be drunk. It’s early in the day, but I doubt that’d stop him. Alonso de la Peña makes up his own rules as he goes. But I don’t know what’s pushed him to this level of losing his shit at me. It’s not like him.
“Papá, you need to leave.” My voice is stronger when I repeat it, though the tension in my muscles is verging on painful.
“You’re avoiding me.” He takes a step back, and I dare to risk a breath.
“I’m handing all of my work in on time, I communicate with your personal assistants, and to my knowledge none of my work has been erroneous.”
He points at me again. “You’re avoiding me.”
Schooling my face, I shake my head. “I’m busy. Between work, school, and the playoffs, I have a few things on my plate.”
His hand flinches, like he’s fighting the urge to slap my face. “I knowexactlywhat you’ve been busy with.”
Edith huffs as though she knows he’s hinting at my relationship with her. “Mr. de la Peña, you’re out of line, and I need for you to leave my home, now. Before I call the police.”
He spins to face her, finger stabbing the air in her direction. “I’m going to assume that accident broke your brain and you forget who you’re dealing with right now, little lady.”
She shakes her head, golden strands swishing across her cheeks. “No sir. I knowpreciselywho I’mdealing withright now, and if you don’t leave, I’ll call the police.” As if she’s calling his bluff, she picks up her cell phone from the coffee table.
His gaze lands on the cell for a beat before flitting back to me. “You belong to me, kid. I made you, and I can easily unmake you. Be in the office next week, on the 7th at 11A.M. There are some business associates flying in that you need to meet with. We’re moving forward with the merger.”
