Page 29 of Mine

I hesitate. My place in Carlos Leone’s life is not something I’m prepared to discuss—with anyone. But I’ve spent a lot of time stewing over how Carlos did nothing to help me while Astor held a knife to my throat. So, screw it. Carlos obviously doesn’t value me or my life.

“I handle Mr. Leone’s financials. Confidentially.”

“Bullshit. He’s not on your client roster at Sloane and Associates.”

“That’s correct.” How much does Astor know about my life? “Mr. Leone is not a client of mine. What we do is more, ah, behind the scenes. Off the books. I manage his personal assets.”

“His illegal assets, you mean.”

“Yes.” Defiant, I cock a brow. I highly doubt Billionaire Stone’s tax returns are squeaky clean.

“Explain.”

“Why?”

Astor folds his arms over his chest. The suit fabric pulls against what appears to be a pair of cannons for arms. He’s still holding the knife.

Again, I find myself hesitating, but figure if I give Astor the information he needs, he’ll let me go. Probably. Maybe.

Probably not.

He blinks slowly, his patience waning.

“Mr. Leone hired?—”

“Stop calling him that. The man kidnapped my wife.”

“So, you two have a lot in common, then,” I deadpan.

“Insulting me is only going to get you gagged again, Miss Hart.”

“Fine. Carlos hired me to manage and handle his assets—he’s terrible with money. I am the only person in the world who has total access to all of his financial accounts. I set them up, manage them, manipulate them as it serves him, et cetera.”

“Who is Blum and Levy, Inc.?”

“A shell corp that I set up for him that he pays me through—which you already know, obviously.”

“So, if what you’re saying is true, you could empty every one of his bank accounts with a few clicks of a keyboard.”

“It’s more complicated than that, but yes, I could send him into bankruptcy, if that’s where you’re going with this.”

“Or you could send him to jail if you testified against him.”

“And send myself, for that matter, so that’s never an option. I willingly signed on to work for him, fully understanding what it meant.”

“Why? Why knowingly accept a job that could get you in trouble?”

“That’s none of your business, is it?”

Astor’s dark eyes squint, assessing me. He has a way of making me feel small, like I’m standing naked before him.

And why does this turn me on, this over-the-top dominant masculinity? Something about this man makes me hot as hell, igniting an unnatural desire I’ve never felt before. One that makes me want to do very stupid, very bad, very deliciously sexual things to him.

What the hell is wrong with me? My blood sugar must be negative zero. That’s the only logical explanation.

“I’m sure Carlos has restricted your access to his accounts by now,” Astor says, pulling me from my highly inappropriate thoughts.

“That’s impossible.”

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