Page 73 of The Devil's Deal

“What the fuck happened?” I’m already on my feet, grabbing the keys off the desk.

“It’s best if you see it for yourself.”

I clench my jaw. “Spit it out. Is she in danger?”

I register the puzzled looks on my brothers’ faces as I head out of my office.

“She’s not in danger. Not exactly.”

“I don’t speak in riddles—”

He starts to reply.

“Give me a second, Miles,” I cut him off, then mute him and talk to Camille. “I have to go. Cancel the meeting with Damian. Send them my sincerest apologies and a bottle of the finest cognac.”

JDG Global is the best security firm out there, and I need them working for me.

“Of course, sir. Not a problem.”

This better be a good fucking reason to get me out of the office. The house better be on fire. And considering the live feed of the house on my phone shows it’s not, he better have a damn good reason for disturbing me.

Heading for the elevator, I unmute the call with Miles. “On my way.”

Then I end the call.

* * *

I swing the door open, finding Miles already there. “What the fuck is the big emergency?”

“Come with me, sir,” he says, already marching toward the living room, with me beside him. “I wouldn’t have called, but neither I nor any of the men knew how to handle this without offending you.”

What the fuck is he going on about?

Miles practically towers over me, and I’m a pretty big motherfucker. He’s about six-seven and three hundred pounds of muscle, but right now, he looks scared as hell.

Opening the door to the yard, he leads me toward the pool, where I first see the top of Chiara’s head on a lounger. Four of my men are stationed there, all four trying hard not to stare at her. I know she’s beautiful. I can’t blame them for that, but that’s all they’ll fucking do, or I’ll rip their goddamn hearts out.

But as I get closer, my pulse punches me right at the side of my throat.

“What thefuckdo you think you’re doing?” A disapproving growl thunders out of me.

Her shoulders jump as she yanks a pair of my Bluetooth headphones off her ears. She gazes up at me with a twist of her neck, her eyes squinting beneath the sunlight, but all I can see are her bare tits.

She’s in a fucking pair of black lace panties. That’s all. The matching bra is beside her on the ottoman.

Motherfucker.She let all these men see her like this?

I want to carve their eyes out.

“I’m sorry. What’s the problem?” she asks, her brows bowing in defiance. “Am I not allowed to tan?”

“Not likethat. Not when every man here can see your tits.” My voice hovers above complete rage.

“Oh,please,” she huffs, putting her headphones back in as her lashes flutter to a close.

With a touch, I yank that shit from her ears. “Pick up that fucking bra and put it on.”

My patience is close to gone, my tone edging with ruthlessness.

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