Page 8 of Satin Empire

She raises her hands, waving them in the air. “Joke. Joke! It was a bad joke. God damn, I really can’t keep my mouth shut.”

“Oh. That’s a shame. I was going to give you permission.” I get up and walk a few feet away, trying not to laugh. The expression on her face nearly fucking kills me. She’s half annoyed and half mortified, but I swear, she’s also checking me out. Her eyes roam up and down, and I like her brazen confidence.

“I’m trying to figure out where we go from here,” I admit once I have some distance between us. This girl is driving me crazy. All I can think about is her hands on my cock, both of them, stroking up and down as her gorgeous tits shake.

“We don’t have to go anywhere. I just came to find you.”

“For what purpose, exactly?”

“I don’t know. I wanted to see my future husband, I guess. I wanted to know you a little bit first.” She says it like that’s the craziest thing in the world. And she’s not wrong to want it, but I was fully prepared to see her for the first time on our wedding night. I’m the kind of man who knows his duty and does it, regardless of how I feel about it.

“You have my attention. Get to know me.”

“Seriously? Right now?”

“I just felt you up. You have intimate knowledge of my hard dick. Let’s get the other boring shit out of the way.”

She laughs, and when she realizes I’m not kidding, she looks both amused and determined. I like that look on her face. It’s bold and beautiful, the kind of girl who would go out onto the stage of a random titty bar and actually show off her gorgeous body. I should be impressed and aroused, except I’m also kind of annoyed.

“Alright, fine. How old are you?”

“Thirty-six. You?”

“Twenty-one.”

I grimace and look away. “Shit. You’re young.”

“And you’re old as dirt. What’s your favorite movie?”

“Reservoir Dogs. You?”

“The Exorcist. And don’t just throw my questions back at me. Be creative.”

I grunt in response. I don’t want to be creative. I want to strip her down and fuck her senseless, which is a problem, because she’s practically a goddamn toddler. “What’s your favorite TV show?”

She stares at me. “Guess.”

“Buffy.”

“You’re the smartest man alive.”

I grind my jaw. “Alright, I think I know you well enough now.”

“Ah, come on, I’m only teasing you. Seriously, if you have thin skin, we definitely aren’t going to be compatible.”

I rub my eyes and take a beat. I’m not insulted by her sarcasm—her little comment didn’t bother me at all—it’s more that I keep thinking about this situation and how absolutely fucked it is for two major reasons.

First, she’s fifteen years younger than me. That’s not exactly ideal. I prefer women around my age, maybe a few years younger, but not just barely able to legally order a fucking beer at a bar.

And second, she’s Orsino Milano’s stepdaughter, meaning she’s the stepdaughter of the third most powerful mafia Don in the city, and she nearly stripped in my club. If anyone in the Milano Famiglia finds out about this, they are going to murder me and end the alliance this marriage is supposed to form. Which means Renzo will dig me up and murder me a second time.

“It’s fine, I’m just exhausted and starting to realize how big of a mistake this is.”

Her face shuts down. She sits back, wrapping her arms around herself, her eyes narrowing as she stares at the floor. I don’t want to upset her. I’m not interested in pissing her off. But I need to make sure this doesn’t blow up in my face, and it’s better that I set expectations now before we get married.

“You’re right,” she says and her voice is small. “You want to know the truth? I came here to say that I don’t want to marry you and I don’t like guys like you, and if you can figure out a way to get me out of this, I’d really appreciate it. That’s all I wanted to say. If we’re done, you can take me home.”

I don’t even know how to respond to that. Get her out of this? I can’t even get myself out of this. And what the fuck does she mean by guys like you? She doesn’t even know me. For some reason, now I’m finally pissed off, because she isn’t kidding around anymore.

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