Page 23 of The Merciless King

Perhaps I will arrange it. I’m grateful she reached out and, frankly, not unhappy to be left with Braxton.

I like that he showed absolutely zero interest in my father.

What a breath of fresh air.

“So, you’re in New York for a few months,” I say and he nods. “Where do you normally reside?”

“Anywhere I choose.” Braxton sips his whisky. His other arm rests along the chair, his heavy watch sparkling in the soft light.

He’s stunning.

“Where is your favorite place to live?” I ask when he doesn’t fill the silence.

Which I like.

He’s not forcing his way into my bed. As if he knows it’s a done deal.

It’s not.

But I’ll let him think it is.

“Italy.”

“Are you saying that because I’m Italian and want to impress me?” I smile.

“No,” he says, sliding his glass onto the table and a twinkle appears in his eyes. “You’re already impressed.”

I can’t help it; I laugh.

“Are you always this confident?” I ask, because seriously I’ve never met a man so sure of himself. A man who, goddamn it, should be.

I love it.

And I hate that I love it.

I feel completely out of control and it's wonderful and terrifying and so damn hot.

“When the situation calls for it.” Braxton leans slightly to the side, coming closer to me, but not too close. His eyes lock with mine and sexuality pours from him. “I have a question for you, Ms. Baldassare.”

Why do I love him using my surname?

It’s giving me shivers, and I want to know his question almost as painfully as I need my next breath.

“Go ahead,” I whisper.

“Would you rather sit here and make small talk, or should we head to my hotel where I can make you scream?”

It was what I was hoping he’d say.

But never dreamed he’d be that direct.

Then again, Braxton Rossi doesn’t mess around.

I hold his steamy gaze for a long moment, swallowing as slowly as I can, then cast my eyes over to where James is nursing a glass of water.

“Have your security check me out,” Braxton says. “But make it fast.”

I snap my head back to him. “It seems you know how this works?”