Page 54 of Ruthless Lord
I get up, honestly not sure how to feel. He just caught me snooping, but he doesn’t seem to care. Which makes me think I’m not going to find anything interesting in this office even if I tore it to pieces.
I follow after him. Curiosity’s tugging at me. His sudden short answers make me want to prod him more. I’ve found he does that to deflect away from topics he doesn’t like. He acts all gruff and scary, and most people probably just leave him alone.
But that’s not my style.
“Did they pass away?” I ask, climbing into bed beside him.
He’s staring at the ceiling. “Go to sleep. And stop looking through my things.” His eyes close. “You’re lucky you didn’t find another gun.”
“What was it like living with your grandmother? Did she always smoke?”
He lets out a long sigh. “Yes, she always smoked.”
“Did you two get along?”
“Not really.”
“Is that why there aren’t any other pictures of her?”
“Probably.”
I lean in closer and pitch my voice low. “If you tell me more about your childhood, I’ll suspend our deal for a full day.”
His eyes open. He looks at me, eyebrows raised. “Tempting.”
“Thank you. That’s a very good compliment.”
But then he closes them again. “I’ll pass.”
“God, you’re a prick.” I flop against my pillow with a groan. “How’d you end up joining the Marino Famiglia? Who’d you know?”
“Too many bad people.”
“Try being more specific.”
He blows air from his nostrils like an annoyed horse. “Luca. A few others. To the surprise of no one, I was a big, troubled young man, and I found violence came easy to me.” His face tightens for a moment. “That’s why everything always fucking aches.”
“I keep forgetting you’re an old man.”
“Which is why I need so much sleep.”
“If that’s a hint, I choose to ignore it. Did your grandmother know you were getting in trouble?”
“She knew.” He looks at me then, his eyes dark and troubled. “She didn’t like it.”
There’s a strange heaviness to the way he says that. I don’t say anything and his eyes close again. I have to remember that we come from different worlds. I grew up in a mansion with a rich grandfather who treated me both like a princess and a punching bag. I was given everything, but I was also molded to be the Westbrook heir.
Stefano didn’t have that privilege. What he’s got now, he earned all by himself. I can’t begin to imagine the struggle he went through as a young man, and the fact that he clearly doesn’twant to talk about it only makes me think it was worse than I’m imagining.
I wish he’d talk. We’re stuck in this relationship together, and we might as well get a feel for each other.
I’m tempted then. I know it’s stupid. He’s not asleep yet, but I can tell he’s trying. I reach out through the narrow space keeping us apart and I brush my fingers down his muscular chest. A thrill runs into my core. Like this is somehow wrong and forbidden. His eyes open again, and this time there’s a spark in his gaze.
“We never said I couldn’t touch you,” I whisper, not really sure what’s coming over me, only that I keep thinking about his fist wrapped around his dick and how many secrets he’s keeping, and god, maybe I can do something dumb and reckless, but something that Iwantfor once. “I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
He says nothing. My fingers graze down lower, over his upper abdomen, down to his chiseled stomach. He’s flexed and tense. I can’t tell what he’s thinking, only that his mouth’s parted slightly. I want to kiss him, but I don’t.
Instead, my hand keeps going down, down to his belly button, down to the waistband of his boxer briefs. Slowly, I slip inside.
