Page 48 of Arrogant Bastard

After a beat, I nod. “Yes.” It hasn’t escaped me that asking my supercomputer to do all this searching is a monumental task. Not to mention the fact that the human angle is vital for any investigation. Without boots on the ground, there is only so much we can achieve.

I reflect on that as we arrive at my apartment building and head up in the elevator. Mitch and Linc come with us but step out one floor below.

She raises her eyebrows but doesn’t ask for an explanation, and I don’t give her one. She walks out ahead of me when we exit the elevator. The way she sways her hips and deliberately drums her fingers on her thighs as she waits for me to open the door tells me I’m getting a little payback for what happened in Axel’s office. I’m mildly sweating by the time I disable the alarms and let us into the apartment.

“I’m going to change,” she says the moment we walk in.

“I think that’s a good idea,” I reply as I cross over to the bar. “Can I fix you a drink?” I throw over my shoulder.

She gives a slow, uncertain shake of her head, and a tiny twitch of puzzlement crosses her face. I suspect she’s feeling a little off-kilter. Well, I’m feeling like my balls are about to fall off from the constant pressure she’s putting them under. So, guess we’re equal.

Her footsteps fade away as I pour a shot of Hine, knock it back, and pour another. This one I nurse as I walk to the wide window and look out over the stunning view of New York City at night. I shove my hand into my pocket and encounter Axel’s business card. I take it out and stare at it. There’s no job title or business address, just his name and telephone number embossed in gold on a black background.

The man’s military history isn’t a secret. Combined with his family’s mob history and the kind of work he does now, he’ll probably be the right person to sort out our manpower issue. And if he partnered with Faith for four years without once questioning her background, then he most likely can be trusted to be discreet.

I return the card to my pocket. Something to think about, maybe, but not right now. The other items in my pocket, the thumb drives, demand priority. I take another sip of cognac and head to my study. I download the information and feed it into my specialized search code, expanding the parameters to include every possible scenario I can think of.

Then I sit back in my chair, rolling the glass between my fingers. I don’t want to go to bed. Not without her. And with her in a pissy mood, it’s going to be a fucking long night.

My cock doesn’t get the message though. It throbs and jumps when she appears in the doorway. She’s still wearing those fucking control-shredding leather pants, but the lace top and corset have been swapped for a white tank top. Without a fucking bra. Jesus.

The memory of her gorgeous breasts in my hands, of her luscious nipples in my mouth, is as vivid as ever.

She nods at the monitor. “Anything?”

I shake my head without taking my eyes off her tits. Even from across the room I can see her nipples reacting to my scrutiny.

She walks over, rounds the desk to my side, and sets her tight little ass down on the edge of it. Her body doesn’t brush mine, but my every sense is attuned to her. She reaches over and plucks the glass from my hand and takes a delicate little sip.

“You’re in a mood for payback. I can tell,” I mutter, my tongue thickening just from the smell of her skin.

Her eyes gleam green fire at me but she doesn’t answer. She takes another sip and slowly glides her tongue over her lower lip.

“Which part upset you most?” I press. The earlier we get my sins out in the open, the quicker I can get my punishment.

“Oh, let’s see. The whole ‘you belong to me’ thing.”

I nod. “Okay. Anything else?”

“The general taking-over part.”

“I see.”

“Oh, and the not believing me about Axel bit too. That ticked me off big-time.”

“Uh-huh.”

She sets my glass down and traces the lip with her forefinger while staring at me with one eyebrow cocked. After a minute, her eyes narrow. “Well?”

“What, sweetheart?” I ask gently.

“Don’t you have anything to say?”

I rescue my glass from her finger-seduction and down the rest of the shot. “Sorry I didn’t believe you about Rutherford.”

Her cute little chin juts out. “That’s it?”

“I’m not going to apologize for telling him that you belong to me. You do. Just as I’m yours. You just don’t like hearing it.”

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