Page 4 of Protection (Mobsters + Billionaires 2)
“Uh, no.” Because I don’t have a fucking death wish.
“Then I don’t really care about the particulars. Work with my procurement manager,” he says, handing me a business card.
I take the card and give him a thumbs-up.
So that’s what doing business with a mob boss looks like. Good to know.
Unfortunately, he’s not done with me. Luca rubs his hands together, going for the jugular. “Now, let’s get this business around your personal security squared. We've got the perfect poker night going, and you getting killed fucks with all the good chi.”
On that note, he walks out of the breakfast nook, leaving me alone with Mr. Grumpy Pants.
Not gonna lie. As sexy as he is, Edgerton intimidates the hell out of me. Even more than the mobster who just ordered half a million dollars’ worth of tracking technology and support.
The whole intimidation factor probably shouldn’t turn me on so much, right? I mean, he could unzip his pants, command me to suck him off, and I’d practically injure myself getting to my knees.
I shiver at the visual and wonder if he likes to take charge in bed.
Stupid question.
Edgerton clears his throat, and I wonder how long he’s been sitting there. My gaze lingers on his broad shoulders. Sigh.
He gestures for me to sit—Yes, Daddy—then asks, “Dr. Laghari, why were you at the Canal Street station?”
I blink, not following. “Huh?”
You are a serious businessman dealing with a serious issue. Stop fantasizing about whether or not Edgerton is a boxers or briefs guy.
“Your stalker, Dr. Laghari. Did you go to the station to avoid him?”
Definitely boxer briefs.
I grin and bite my thumbnail.
“What does this smile mean? Where did you first see him today?”
“Yes?”
Not sure why that came out as a question.
He threads his fingers together and leans forward. “Dr. Laghari, I need you to focus. Where did you see him? How did you end up at the station? These are not yes or no questions.”
I shake my head, knowing he’s going to hate my answer.
“Dr. Laghari, I don’t think I like this expression on your face.”
“Well, Mr. Edgerton, this is a smile,” I say, pointing to said smile in case he’s missed it. “It’s what somebody does with their face when they're happy. I understand that's a difficult concept for you, but I smile a lot.”
“I'm sure being a billionaire gives you plenty of reasons to be happy.”
Okay, Mr. Snappy Retort.
I fidget with a hangnail before responding, “My company is worth billions, Mr. Edgerton. I try to keep my own personal wealth a fair amount below that. Though…it is difficult with the way money grows at this level.”
“How awful for you,” he says, pulling out his phone. “You still haven’t answered my questions.”
Damn. I was hoping he hadn’t noticed.
“Um…yeah. I got there before he did.”
