Page 52 of The Deal

I guess he’s still holding a grudge over #Cakegate.

“Poor Antonio,” Chloe says as we slide into the waiting limousine.

“He’ll get over it,” I grumble.

“I think I might bake him a cake tomorrow … you know, as an apology.”

“You don’t need to apologise to him, Chloe.”

“Oh, I know. I’m not apologising for me … I’m apologising for you. You put that poor man in the dog house. His wife was not impressed.”

“It was a piece of fucking cake. Correct me if I’m wrong, but isn’t that the whole purpose of cake … to be eaten? I don’t know what the big deal was. I think they all overreacted.”

“If I had spent a small fortune on a cake for our child’s birthday and you did something like?—”

“Our child?” I cut in, my voice rising a few octaves. “I have zero intention of procreating despite my father’s relentless pressure.”

She gives me a side-eye, settling back in her seat with her arms crossed over her chest. “It was a metaphor, Mancini. Relax. I can barely take care of myself, let alone bring a kid into this world.”

“Finally, we can agree on something.”

“Humph,” is her only reply.

As Nico exits onto the freeway, I pull out my phone and text Marco.

Me: I want everyone out of the house, including you, by the time I arrive. Nobody is allowed to reenter until I say so.

Thankfully, Carmella is staying at her sister’s tonight. Igave her the night off since Chloe and I were going out. She’s the only one on my payroll who lives at the house, so I would’ve felt awkward asking her to leave as well.

I have big plans for Miss Carmichael when I get home, and I don’t want any disturbances.

Nico slows as we drive through the front gates and down the long driveway towards the house. I notice my men congregating in a small group off to the side.

“Oh, has something happened?” Chloe asks, sitting forward in her seat and observing them out the side window as we pass.

“No, I asked them to exit the house.”

“Why?”

I glance over at her and smile as I reach for her hand and bring it to my mouth. “I wanted some alone time with you.” I won’t elaborate further; I thought I made my intentions clear before the #Cakegate fiasco. “Are you okay with that?”

She lifts one shoulder so I arch an eyebrow.I thought we were on the same page.“I’m okay being alone with you. I’m just uncomfortable with your men knowing what we’re about to do.”

“I asked them to leave; I didn’t tell them why.”

“I’m sure they can put two and two together. It isn’t half obvious.”

“If it makes you feel better, I can let them back inside, and we can go upstairs to my bedroom. I just thought, if, by chance, we don’t make it up there, there would be nobody inside that could see you in a compromised position.”

“When you say don’t make it up there … do you mean …?”

“I might want to fuck you on the staircase or spread you out on the dining room table and devour you … because I’ve had that exact fantasy a time or two.”

Her eyes widen to the size of saucers. “You have?”

“Bella,” I say, bringing her hand to my mouth once more. But this time, instead of kissing her knuckles, I suck a couple of her fingers between my lips, swirling my tongue around her digits before releasing them with a distinct pop. “There’s something oddly captivating about the way you eat. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to sit there with a raging hard-on during our meal.”

Her perfectly sculpted eyebrows jump. “You have?”

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