Page 29 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
I smack his arm.
“Ouch,” he says, rubbing his arm.
“Oh, shut up, you big tree. I didn't hurt you, but I probably broke a bone in my hand.”
“Wait, did you hurt your hand?” he asks, reaching for me.
“No, dumbass.”
“Then why did you hit me?” he asks, sounding a little hurt.
“Because people always talk about how skinny I am, and it doesn’t feel great. I can promise you, I would gain weight if I could. It sucks being cold all the damn time. It sucks that my bones hurt from lack of cushioning. I don’t need your shitty commentary on top of everything else.”
He has the grace to look embarrassed. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I want you to be healthy, that’s all.”
See, when he goes and says shit like that, it makes my heart fluttery and my parts perk up. Fucking tree.
“I get it, but if we’re going to be friends, you can't go around thinking you know what I need better than I do.”
“We’re not friends. You hired me to do a job.”
Nice try, Anthony.
I roll my eyes, secretly loving how straitlaced he is. “We play poker together every Wednesday. Whether you like it or not, we’re friends.”
He narrows his eyes. “None of my friends have ever taken that much money off me.”
I snort. “Only a true friend wouldn't insult your intelligence by trying to throw a game to save your pocketbook or pride.”
“You're a billionaire. Why do you need my money?”
“I'm a billionaire because I like money, dumb-dumb. Well, that, and I understand the means of production.”
Just as he's working on a comeback, the email notification goes off on my phone. I check it, and…fuck. Holding up a finger, I step off to the side. Cursing, my thumbs fly across the screen, and I hit Send with a little more vigor than totally necessary.
The return notification hits almost immediately. Goddamn needy, greedy bastards. I send my thumbs flying again, but another notification comes in before I reply. Anthony joins me by the wall, blocking me from the flow of people going by. I like it.
Way too much.
“Something wrong?”
I let out a frustrated breath. “No. But I shouldn't feel this annoyed for needing to be in Vienna tomorrow, right? Because it’s, like, Vienna. It’s definitely a place I should want to go.”
His brows come together. “Mads, we don’t have Vienna on the books.”
I hold up my phone. “I’m saying it’s last-minute. Is that going to be a problem?”
“No, I wanted to make sure I hadn’t missed something.”
“Anthony, you never miss anything.”
Ignoring the compliment, he asks, “And why don’t you want to go?”
“Because I have to.”
Anthony takes out his phone, typing out a search. “Isn't the G8 National Conference in Vienna this week? Isn’t getting in there going to be a nightmare?”
“Duh. Why do you think I'm going, Anthony?”
