Page 51 of The Deal

Me: You may be one of my closest friends, but you are skating on thin ice. And just an FYI, if my balls explode before the cake gets to Chloe, I’ll make sure my father knows you are the one responsible for him not getting his heir. I’m sure you wouldn’t want to get on the wrong side of Giovanni Mancini.

Antonio: You could always go in the bathroom and flog your log. That would give your balls instant relief.

Me: Flog my log? How old are you, 12? And no! Why would I do that when I have a beautiful woman beside me who’s willing to take care of my needs? Get me the fucking cake, Antonio!

Antonio: Relax, I’m getting you your fucking cake. If my wife divorces me over this, you’re paying for the lawyer.

Me: Consider it done!

I chuckle to myself when I see the waitress come back to Antonio with a knife in hand, and watch on as he moves, not so inconspicuously, toward the enormous three-tiered cake that stands proudly in the centre of the room, drawing everyone’s attention with its grand presence.

“What’s he doing?” Chloe leans in and asks.

“Getting you your piece of cake.”

She gasps. “You didn’t!”

“I most certainly did.”

When Chloe goes to stand, I reach for her hand again. “Where are you going?”

“To tell him I can wait like everyone else for my cake.”

“Don’t,” I say, tugging her back into her seat.

“Alexander!”

“Chloe,” I growl in return. She is getting that piece of cake whether she likes it or not.

Antonio slides up beside it like a guilty child and quickly surveys the room. My lips twitch as he carefully takes the knife in his hand. His fingers twitch as he slides the blade through the bottom layer of the cake. His movements are deliberate and slow as he tries to extract a small slice without anyone noticing.

“Oh no,” I hear Chloe whisper from beside me, because just as he’s about to lift the piece onto his plate, a hand shoots out, grabbing him by the ear with a firm and unmistakable grip.

“Antonio Bianchi,” his mother-in-law shrieks. “What do you think you’re doing?” She twists his ear, and there’s no mistaking the warning in her eyes.

I bark out a laugh as he stands frozen, the piece of cake halfway to his plate, caught like a deer in the headlights. The room falls silent for a second, everyone pretending not to notice—except for the mother-in-law, giving him a pointed look and a tug that sends him stumbling.

“You want a slice, you greedy man?” she adds, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Then you’ll wait like everyone else.”

A fucking hour and twenty minutes … that’s how long I had to wait for Chloe to get her piece of damn cake. All the while, sitting there as Antonio sent me daggers from across the room. He’d been banished to the table where his mother and aunts sat, where they could keep a close eye on him.

His failed attempt to steal a piece of cake had earned him a dressing down from his wife—in front of the entire room—and a clip across the back of his head from his mother.

Chloe reached out and pinched a chunk of my thigh when I laughed. When I had said,“Ouch, what was that for?”she tried to make me go over there and confess my part in it all. There was no way in hell I was going to admit to that. I didn’t have a death wish. Italian women can be brutal when they have been crossed.

It was comical at best, and a part of me felt bad for him. Even more so when the cake was officially cut, and he was denied a piece for what he’d done earlier.

I wasn’t left unpunished for my role, which soon became known as #Cakegate among the guests. Chloe confiscated my plate the moment it was placed down in front of me, removed the piece of cake, wrapped it in a serviette, and snuck it to Antonio when we said our goodbyes.

Although the cake did look delicious, I had more important things on my mind … like eating her.

I also had the pleasure of watching Chloe eat. It’s become a secret fascination of mine—well,torturemay be a better word.

Every time that fork disappeared between those pillowy lips of hers, my cock swelled further, to the point it became painful. It was so hard by the time she finished eating, I’m surprised it didn’t burst through the zipper of my trousers.

I reach for Chloe’s hand as we head outside after saying our goodbyes.

Antonio gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek—which pissed me off—and then, to make matters worse, he completely ignored my outstretched hand, which only made me more furious.

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