Page 32 of Plus-Size Bratva Possession
“Mrs. Ajello,” I corrected with false sweetness, just to set the board for what I had planned.
He exhaled sharply. “Mrs. Ajello. Do you actually know where this store is?”
“Of course I do. It's just been a while.” I peered out the window, pretending to get my bearings. “Oh! I know where we are now. It's just down this street and to the right.”
As we turned the corner, the sleek glass tower of an important-looking office building, that had to be Gastone’s, came into view. My heart quickened. I'd done it.
“Actually, isn't this where Gastone works?” I asked innocently, as if just noticing. “Maybe we should stop in and say hello first.”
Dom's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “What about your pillow?”
I dropped the act. “Look, I've been stuck in that penthouse for weeks. I'm curious about what he does all day. Can you blame me?”
“Mr. Ajello is in meetings today. Important ones.”
“Even better,” I said. “I'll be quick. Just a peek around, maybe surprise him for a minute. It'll be fun. Besides, you can deal with whatever’s on your radar.”
Dom looked like he wanted to argue, but his phone buzzed again. Whatever crisis was brewing seemed to be escalating. He checked the message, then cursed under his breath.
“Okay, fifteen minutes,” he said sternly. “Mr. Carlo needs me for something, and then we leave.”
“Excellent,” I said, rubbing my hands with delight. Pure, unadulterated thrill passed down my spine. I’d done it. I’d found a way into Gastone’s office.
Dom parked in the underground garage and escorted me into the building, looking increasingly uncomfortable.
The lobby was modern and massive beyond belief. I saw a plaque for Ajello Industries behind the reception, and made a mental note to Google what I could about it later. The receptionist recognized Dom immediately and waved us through without question.
In the elevator, Dom pressed the button for the top floor.
“Meet me in the lobby in fifteen,” Dom reminded me as the doors slid open.
***
Through trial and error, I found my way to Gastone’s office across the hushed floor. A few people gave me curious looks, but none stopped me. I recalled Dom had an access key for this floor, which meant if I was here, I belonged.
At last, I saw the door to Gastone’s office, his name in gold right on it. I entered without knocking, eager to catch Gastone off guard for once.
I stepped into the office and froze.
Gastone was on the phone and in the midst of removing his suit jacket, and I watched as that crisp white shirt stretched taut across his chest. For some reason, the sight of it made my mouth go dry.
I’d seen Gastone shirtless, that one time in the kitchen. But something about him in this large, fancy office, removing his suit to give a glimpse of that perfectly sculpted body beneath that shirt, hit me differently. He looked powerful and commanding, like the boss he was.
Heat pooled low in my belly, and I suddenly found it hard to breathe.
Gastone looked up when he heard the sound of the door, and his eyes widened fractionally when he saw me. Without breaking his conversation, he held up one finger, a silent command to wait, and turned back to the windows.
I stood there, transfixed, as he continued his call, unable to focus on a word he was saying. I could see the muscles in his back shift beneath his shirt as he ran a hand through his blond hair, leaving it slightly mussed, before proceeding to roll up the sleeves over his arms, his head cocked to keep the phone in place.
God, what was wrong with me? This was Gastone—the man who forced me into marriage and kept me locked away from my family. I shouldn't be noticing how his forearms looked, his sleeves rolled up, veins visible beneath tattooed skin. I shouldn't be wondering how those large hands would feel on my body.
But I was.
My body betrayed me, responding to him with a rush of desire so intense it was almost painful. My nipples tightened against my bra, and I felt a telltale dampness between my thighs. I crossed my arms over my chest self-consciously, horrified at my reaction.
It's just because he's the only man you've been around for weeks, I told myself desperately. You're touch-starved. It doesn't mean anything.
Gastone finally hung up, then turned to face me fully. His eyes, that impossible shade of green, swept over me from head to toe, taking in my new haircut, my flushed cheeks.
