Page 42 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
Oh puke, Mads.
By the time we’ve finished exploring the city, we’re exhausted and decide to skip a big dinner in favor of room service on our hotel-room balcony.
It seems like a good idea until I actually sit down. The whimsical chairs and table are delicate wrought iron-slash-torture devices. Now, I like me some whimsy, but I’m chilled to the bone and my tiny ass is super uncomfortable. Still, you couldn’t drag me from this table right now. When the food arrives, I pull out a bottle of wine I purchased earlier in the day.
“Do you like white?”
Anthony nods, his eyes appraising me. Probably mocking the orange puffer jacket. “I love all wine. I know I'm supposed to say some Italian varietal is my favorite, but that would be a lie.”
“Scandal!” I say, poking him in the ribs. Ugh, he’s so fucking warm. “I’m going to tell Luca.”
He laughs and grabs my hand. “Don't you dare. Also, stop poking me in the ribs. I’m ticklish.”
“Oh, that’s right,” I say, smiling as I remember our defense training.
We share a few appetizers and talk about what we saw, mostly avoiding anything to do with the real reason we’re halfway around the globe. I make the mistake of checking my phone and discovering a million unanswered emails. Yeah, not dealing with that right now. I set the phone face down on the table.
“You should put your phone away,” he says, downing the last of his glass.
“You’re right. I should,” I say, shifting uncomfortably on the chair. I’m still cold, and my ass hurts, but I care a little less, grateful for the wine’s ability to make my brain stop for a little while. Anthony grabs my phone and turns off the ringer, then thinks better of it and holds the button down a little longer, turning off the phone entirely.
I suck in a deep breath. “Oh my God, that is so scary.”
“No, what's scary is I know you have a bottle of red in there.”
“Anthony! Are you suggesting we sit out here and drink an entire second bottle of wine?”
He walks over to the tiny outdoor loveseat and sits right in the middle of it, his long legs sprawling before him as he lounges comfortably. He gestures to the cityscape below us. “I think a drunken Vienna night is exactly what you need.”
“I'm not the only one. I swear you nearly grinned earlier this evening, and I almost called the police. I thought you were an impostor.”
Biting back another smile, he grumbles under his breath. “Shut up.”
Oh man. He’s so fucking sexy like this.
I grab the wine in question and uncork it, refilling his glass, then mine. We touch glasses and turn our attention back to the city. I shiver in the chilly night air and look over, realizing he’s taken his jacket off. God, I bet his skin is warm.
I make my way through half of my glass and look over at him again. He smiles back. “Mads? You okay?”
I shrug. “This goddamn chair is freezing as fuck and twice as uncomfortable.”
“We can go inside.”
I pout. “But I like it out here.”
“Oh no, the billionaire is right outside a luxuriously appointed suite with blankets and pillows, but he’s outside, and the long journey inside is so arduous.”
“Just because you’re drunk doesn’t mean you’re funny,” I say, leaning over to push his shoulder. He barely moves.
“And just because you’re rich doesn’t mean you’re smart,” he says, lightly pushing me back.
“Fuck.” I nearly fall over, sloshing my wine.
He grabs me before I go ass over teakettle and sets me back on the uncomfortable chair, refreshing my wine. Complaining under my breath, I look over, and he’s sitting spread-legged, his lap far too empty. My glass in hand, I stand up, only slightly wobbly, Anthony’s eyes on me the entire time. I wink at him as I walk into the space between his legs.
“Hey,” I say, super elegant, the edge of my mouth tipping up. He looks at me, confused. “Hey.”
“Hold my wine,” I command, thrusting it into his hands. Thankfully, he’s got good coordination and manages to catch it with minimal spillage.
