Page 45 of Owned by the Italian Mafia Boss
The salesman clears his throat, reminding us that we are not alone. “Perhaps another time would be better, Mr. Milazzo?”
. “Now. Not tomorrow, not next week, or next month. Now!” He slaps the glass display case with his palm, and I jump. He spins to me. “We had an agreement.” His words are laced with anger. “You are breaking that agreement. I don’t know why you are being so difficult—”
“I don’t know whyyou’rebeing such an ass.”
“Because you’re being hardheaded.”
“And you’re a controlling asshat, but here we are, getting nowhere, as usual. I don’t know how this is going to work. Maybe…maybe we go to a clinic and have the pregnancy happen that way.”
“What did you just say?” he pushes me against the glass, arms bracing either side of me, and he looks over my shoulder at the salesman. “Get. Out.”
“Yes, Mr. Milazzo.”
I hear the rustle of footsteps and a door closing behind me. Carmine presses forward, and I lean back to get away from him. He wraps that damn hand around my throat again.
I’m becoming all too familiar with the feel of him around me and threatening my existence.
It shouldn’t feel so damn good.
“Repeat that, Sweetling. Repeat what you just said.”
“I said we are getting nowhere. As usual.”
“No, not that.” His thumb presses against my airway, not hard enough to impact my breathing but I feel the pressure. “You know exactly what I am talking about.”
“I said you were being an asshat.”
“An asshat?” he repeats. His thumb slides up my neck and rests on my bottom lip. “Explain that to me.”
My eyes flutter when his fingers dig into the back of my neck, and his other hand grips my right hip.
“Tell me,” he rumbles.
“It’s when a person is an ass so often, it’s as if they wear an ass as a hat they can’t seem to take off.”
“Take off?” His lips inch toward mine.
My breath catches and my heart thrums. A warm buzz hums just under my skin. With his knee, he forces my legs apart and stands between them. Every time he inches closer, the heat taking over me becomes a few between my thighs, and I’m wet.
I ache for him, for when he’s close like this.
“The asshat. When you take it off, you’re a different person, but when you leave it on—”
“I rule an entire city, Delilah. I have a kingdom, an empire, and I am at war. I have to wear this hat you speak of because kindness doesn’t win wars.”
“You’d be surprised the power kindness holds.”
“Not between enemies. Not between threats. Pressure builds; it’s always there, isn’t it?” His hand slides from my hip to my thigh. He tilts my head back and exposes my throat, bending down and skimming his lips across the column. He doesn’t kiss me. He antagonizes me, forcing me to feel the scratch of the stubble along his cheek and the soft caress of his lips. “It builds and builds, the pressure reaching new heights.”
I whimper, and the bastard smirks against my throat.
“Until it explodes.” He backs away, leaving me flushed and aroused.
He doesn’t bother hiding his arousal. He shows it off, liking that I can’t seem to take my eyes off his cock. “Pick out a ring. One that isn’t embarrassing, Sweetling. And then I’ll think about taking the hat off.”
“Tempting,” I answer, finally turning around to look at the rings.
He dips his head and smirks, rubbing his mouth with his hand. The expensive Rolex on his wrist shines against the light, and I’m reminded that with money comes power and control.
