Page 34 of Sins of the Son

With a cry, she grabbed for the lapels. “Do you at least have a pajama top?”

I spread my arms wide, enjoying how the movement brought her eyes to my chest. “Sorry. I don’t wear them. Now, sit. Eat. Before it gets cold.”

She wrenched the robe belt tighter as she grumbled a rather impressive string of curses under her breath regarding my questionable lineage, my various appendages, and, I believe, my ultimate destination once I shuffled off this mortal coil, before begrudgingly taking her seat.

I took the chair at the head of the table with her to my right. As I filled her wineglass, I said with a wink, “I made jugged hare with prunes and raisins. Although I didn’t have any of the traditional red currant jelly, so I hope you don’t mind a plum jam substitute.”

Milana stared silently at the dish.

I placed the cloth napkin on my lap before reaching for the closest platter and offering it to her. “Yorkshire pudding? I confess I did not make these. Rosa was kind enough to drop them off when she picked up the laundry. These are way beyond my amateur cooking skills.”

She selected a pudding and placed it on her bread plate.

I picked up my knife and fork and ate with relish, pretending to ignore her silence and trying not to smile.

After a few moments, I turned to her with a raised eyebrow. “Is the dish not to your liking? I can prepare something else…”

She studied me for a second. She shook her head before picking up her fork. “No,” she whispered, her voice hoarse and uneven. She cleared her throat. “No,” she said more clearly. “It’s fine.”

I watched her closely. Her lower lip trembled slightly as she raised the first bite to her mouth. She then sniffed as her eyes misted. She turned her head and blinked several times before reaching for her wineglass and taking a large gulp to cover for her sudden display of emotion.

I continued to eat and pretended not to observe anything amiss.

When we were younger, Milana became obsessed with Jane Austen. It started with that one movie and moved on to the books and then other things, including British cuisine. Her favorite was Pride and Prejudice. I remembered because I caught humiliating hell from Enzo when he found me reading it one day. All Milana would talk about was that stupid fucking Mr. Darcy, and I wanted to know what I was up against.

It was probably a low, underhanded, dirty trick, but I wanted to remind her I knew her better than most people.

That we had history together.

That we'd had a connection once.

A friendship.

A friendship I hadn’t forgotten, and I hoped she hadn’t either.

I reached for my napkin and wiped the corner of my mouth before setting it aside. I leaned back in my chair and played with the stem of my wineglass. “So I hear from my office that you have become irreplaceable in the weeks that I was in Milan. It seems you have a true calling for real estate and property management.”

Her lips thinned as she straightened her back and raised her chin. “Your point being?”

I sighed. “There is no hidden agenda in the statement, Milana. You saved me millions by catching that permitting issue two weeks ago. And from what I understand, two of my biggest building contractors now refuse to deal with anyone else in the office but you.”

“Try not to sound so surprised. I was always smarter than you in school. I just wasn’t born with a silver spoon up my ass, so I wasn’t fortunate enough to have my daddy hand me a billion-euro side business to run when I became of age.”

I leaned forward. Pushing my plate to the side, I rested my forearms on the table. “I’m doing my best to have a civil, professional conversation with you. That won’t be possible if you start talking about placing things up your ass.”

Her mouth dropped open. “That’s not what I—”

My gaze lowered to her lips, then back up to her eyes. “Because now all I can think about is bending you over this table and watching that cute asshole of yours stretch around a silver metal dildo as I slowly push it inside of you while I fuck you from behind.”

The robe she was wearing wasn’t able to conceal how her nipples hardened into aroused peaks at my words. My naughty little girl liked when I talked dirty to her.

I stood and circled to stand behind her chair. I rested my hands on the high wooden back, careful not to touch her. “Would you like that, baby?”

I watched her chest rising and falling rapidly with her breath as her fingers nervously twisted the cloth napkin in her lap.

“You want a daddy to buy you a business of your own? Name any business you want, and I’ll buy it for you.”

I could practically feel the heat rising from her skin. “Answer me, baby. You name it and I’ll buy it, but only if you thank me with that cute mouth of yours.” I leaned over her and whispered, “It would be worth every penny to hear you moan, ‘thank you… daddy'.”

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