Page 67 of Ruthless Mafia Daddy

“I need a coffee.”

My head snaps up at the sound of Andre’s voice.

He’s leaning against the doorway, his arms folded over his chest. He’s wearing his usual black suit and white shirt, unbuttoned to expose a little of his tanned chest.

My breath hitches as I take in his looming presence, but when my eyes find his, I’m a little hurt to find no warmth in them.

“Did you hear what I said?” His tone is flat.

“You want coffee,” I repeat, getting to my feet.

Andre’s eyes flick down to my dress, and I catch his nostrils flaring.

I chose the dress on purpose, hoping to put the ball back in my court, especially considering how easily he discarded me on Friday. I like to have control, and this dress gives me exactly that.

It’s bright red and hugs every curve perhaps a little too tightly. Given how swollen my breasts are, they’re practically spilling out of the dress. Add to the fact there’s a zip that runs from between my breasts to the hem, meaning it could come apart in one swift motion, I know exactly the sort of thoughts running through Andre’s mind.

I try to hide my smirk as I walk around my desk, knowing full well that my heels make my ass look incredible.

Two can play at that game.

As I approach the door, Andre steps to the side, his eyes narrowed on my face.

I raise my eyebrows in question as I pause beside him, letting the bergamot and sandalwood scent of him wash over me. I bite back a moan as I look up into his dark eyes, wanting nothing more than to sink to my knees before him.

“Black, no sugar?” I bite my lower lip.

Andre’s throat bobs, but he sinks his hands into his pockets, shifting slightly on his feet.

“Yes,” he grits out, and I know he’s as turned on as I am.

Too bad. He doesn’t get to be the only one to feel tossed aside.

“I’ll be right back.” I walk past Andre, making sure to swish my hips as I walk away.

His stare burns into my skin as I head down the corridor, and I can’t fight the smile as I turn the corner.

I take my time in the breakroom, making his coffee, wanting him to squirm a little longer. I catch a few of my coworkers eyeing my outfit, but I keep my head down, not wanting to give myself away.

The last thing I want is for people to think I’m sleeping my way to the top.

Coffee in hand, I knock softly on Andre’s door.

“Come in,” he grunts.

I bite the inside of my cheek as I push open the door and gasp at the sight of a huge hole in the wall.

“What happened?” My mask falls as I take in the beaten-up drywall.

“No idea.”

I look to Andre who’s watching me with interest. His face is like stone, no hint of emotion in his dark eyes.

“This wasn’t you?” I straight up ask as I walk over to the desk, still clutching Andre’s coffee in my hands.

He leans back in his chair, resting his chin on his left fist as he slowly spreads his thighs. I glance at his hands and notice the knuckles of his right hand are a little bruised.

Interesting.

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