Page 18 of Forbidden Pawn

I can be Mr. Niceguy if I have to. And if I want to have my way with this sweet temptation that has been placed into my greedy hands, I will have to make her want it as much as I do. I can’t have her go off and tell her brothers I fucking raped her. No, she’ll have the time of her life with me, once she’s open to the possibility.

And I think she’s getting there, albeit slowly.

She sits with her hands folded in her lap, waiting like she did last night. Such a good little girl.

“Eat,” I demand, as I pull a large slice from the large plate onto my own. “I hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

She takes a slice for herself, and her eyes widen when she takes in the alluring smell. I’m sure this can keep up with the gourmet dining she’s probably used to at home.

“This one is with fresh tomatoes, lots of fresh arugula, thin slices of parmesan and pine kernels,” I say, pointing at the plate in the middle of the table. “And the other is a white pizza topped with blue cheese, chestnut, and truffles.”

“This isn’t regular takeout pizza, is it?” she asks.

I let out a short-lived chuckle in response.

“It certainly isn’t,” I say. “I had it delivered from one of my favorite restaurants out in Sommerville.”

“Your guy drove all the way over to Sommerville and back to get our dinner?” she asks, perplexed. “That’s so… over the top.”

“Is it?” I ask back. “Isn’t that something you or your family would do?”

Her eyes widen, and for a moment she looks like someone who was caught doing something bad.

“Um, I mean, we could, I guess. But no, I have never ordered someone around like that,” she says eventually. “So, is he in your debt as well? Or do you threaten him with death if he doesn’t comply with even the most ridiculous demands?”

“What about this is ridiculous? It’s good pizza, isn’t it?”

I wait for her to take her first bite, and as soon as the dough hits her tongue, I know she’s realizing that I’m right.

“Yes, it’s decent,” she says, obviously trying to sound nonchalant while she accommodates the explosion of exquisite taste inside her mouth.

“Besides, I don’t have to threaten anyone to do something for me. A simple payment is usually enough,” I add. “He’s compensated generously for his work.”

“I should hope so. That’s quite a long drive for a dinner that’s not even for yourself.”

I chuckle. “I’m pretty sure he got something for himself as well. He has more than enough money to do so.”

I finish my first slice, and my eyes widen as I remember something I’d forgotten.

I jump up from my chair and walk over to the kitchen, where I open the wine fridge and retrieve a bottle of white wine from it. I don’t ask her if she wants any and return to the table with the bottle in a cooler in one hand and two glasses in the other.

“You know I’m underage,” she reminds me.

“Like I care,” I retort, already pouring a glass for her. “This is a Château Haut-Brion Blanc. You’d be an idiot to say no to it, trust me.”

I place the first glass in front of her before pouring one for myself.

“And you can’t tell me that someone like you would ever care about the law, anyway.”

She bites her lip and gives me the coy smile of a guilty person.

“Well, you have a point there,” she says.

“Let’s see if this can compete with what you’re used to,” I say, before raising my glass to her.

She mimics my gesture before we both bring the wine to our lips. The liquid pearls on my tongue with subtle notes of citrus and pear before it dissolves in a nutty aftertaste.

“It’s good,” she says. “Thank you.”

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