Page 31 of The Silencer

“I’d like to meet him,” Luca says gently, walking on eggshells now.

“No.”

“I will have to eventually.”

“Eventually,” I say and then take another large gulp. At this rate I’ll be drunk by dinner. Might be a good idea, since afterward I’ll be rubbing my hands all across Tatum. And it sparks something inside of me.

“I may have to take an extensive walk around the grounds after this.”

I narrow my eyes at him. I know what he’s doing.

I won’t allow it.

“We have other matters to discuss first.”

“Yeah, but it’s such a downer.”

“That it is. But with what went down three days ago, it’s something we can’t put off. And we know the Fallen Aces are going to use this as an excuse to go hard.”

“I guess so.”

Our gazes meet and he runs a hand across his face again.

“Alright, let’s get started. And then after this, want to go a round in the ring?”

“Fuck yes.”

6

TATUM

Ispent a glorious morning napping. And then the reality of my life came crashing back in. I wasn’t feeling back to one hundred percent, but obviously I was well enough to have an orgasm, so that meant I really needed to do my homework. I’m in my last semester of college, and I need to pass my classes so I can move on with my life.

I have plans, dammit.

Ones that don’t involve Anthony and his sexy hands.

Probably.

Most likely not. I mean, if he wanted me, how could I say no?

But Anthony is straight. I know so.

The only reason he touched my dick and got me off is… Well, I don’t really know why, but I’m sure there’s a very good non-gay reason for it.

But for now, I need to focus on my studies. I’m getting my bachelor’s in social work, with a focus on adoptions. I plan on attending graduate school next year.

None of these plans involve a mafia boss.

None.

For a moment, I wonder when I’ll be able to leave. Does Anthony have some other motive for keeping me here, besides keeping me safe? I don’t know and I honestly don’t know if I care. I’m having far too much fun with him and it’s not like I’m suffering here. This place is enormous, and Agatha is such a good cook. I have zero complaints.

“I brought you dinner,” Angel says, appearing suddenly in my room. “Agatha said to make sure you ate it. All of it. She wants the plate licked clean when I bring it back downstairs.”

He hands it to me, and I glance down at the dish full of mashed potatoes, asparagus, and grilled chicken in some kind of white sauce.

“This looks amazing.”

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