Page 59 of Guarded

“Yes, Sir,” I reply, watching as the words unravel him.

I see it in his eyes, the way they darken when I call him that. It excites me.

“What about when I call you my whore?”

I shift slightly on his lap, and the small groan he lets out causes blood to flow to my clit. He pulls my face to his, and I nod slightly.

“Use your words, Manikà.”

“Yes. I like it when you call me your whore.” I confess.

“Is it weird I like that?” I say immediately after.

My hands spring up to cover my face. Why was it so embarrassing talking about this? Nero pulls my hands from my face.

“There’s nothing weird about you. Your body wants what it wants, and I want to be the one to give you that.”

My heart aches at how perfect he is. How he makes me feel everything at once. Sexy, smart, and confident.

“I want you to make a list of the things you want and things you don’t want. Boundaries are important for this to work.” His hands move to my feet, where he gently massages the arch.

“Mmmm. What if I don’t know what exactly I want? I’ve only ever been with you.” I ask.

“Then we can explore. I’ll ask, and you tell me if it’s too much.”

“What kind of things would we be exploring?” I ask in a whisper.

He pushes my hair behind my ear. The delicate touch sends shivers down my spine.

“Things that the world might see as wrong, but for you, they feel right.”

My eyes feel heavy, and I let out a small sigh.

“Okay,” I say, dropping my head to his shoulder.

I was horny, but I was also exhausted, and exhaustion was winning. Nero kisses the top of my head.

“Nothing is really bad or good, Ari. It’s not about one versus the other. I can do bad things to you, and you’re still my good girl.”

Chapter 17

Nero

Istare at the black walls in Silas Macias’s office. We all had street names, so Silas was Ghost to me for the longest time, just as Cassiel is Leatherface to me. The man sitting in front of me with a red designer suit and Louboutin loafers had been the Vice President of the club before Leatherface pissed him off. Or in Leatherface’s version, he made Silas step down. Either way, out of respect to the other brothers, Silas kept his original promise to help the club grow and advance. We used his real estate company to help us clean any money we made, and he would even encourage us to invest it into second streams of income. A large amount of my cuts were either put into savings or spent on private investigators. Chasing circles and never actually finding where Tala was. The thought would often appear that she didn’t want to be found, but I couldn’t help worrying about her. Where life took her. Was she married? Was she safe?

“Why are you here, Nero? Between you and Jasper, I am starting to get the impression that the two of you are obsessed with me. And in case you didn’t notice, I’m happily married.” He holds up his left hand, where there’s a band around the tattooed digit.

Even after all these months since we migrated to Houston, adjusting to this version of Silas was hard. The roles he played now fit him- businessman, husband, father. I look around the office and see his wife’s feminine touch on the walls, family photos, and some weird goth décor.

“What are we going to do about Cassiel?” I ask outright.

The club has been walking on eggshells since the shooting. War was still fresh on the minds of both the Italians and the Russians, and it was only a matter of time before it came to that. Until then, we changed up our routes for the gun trade and took extra precautions during the night rides.

“Jasper was in here last week with the same fucking question and it’s still the same fucking answer. I don’t give a fuck about Cassiel. I don’t give a shit if he chokes on his own blood in that hospital, or anywhere else for that matter.” He says with a pointed look. He means what he says. The years of comodratory between them died the day Cassiel used Lucia to get to Genesis.

I didn’t agree with his methods, but I also didn’t want him to die. We were already weakened in his absence. I don’t know what secrets we took with him to the gates of hell. Silas rocks back in his chair. He takes a sip of the mezcal and leans back.

“You know he’s not right when it comes to her.” I protest.

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