Page 47 of The Leader

She actually winked.

His jaw clenched. “You don’t let go of her right now, I’m gonna break your fingers.” He wasn’t joking.

Her smile disappeared, and she stepped back.

That’s right, bitch. Look me in the eye and tell me I won’t hurt you.

“I…I’m sorry…” Mandy turned pale, spun around, and hurried off.

Jazzy gave him a disparaging look. “Really?”

“She was rude.” Also, he didn’t like it when other people touched what was his. He immediately recognized the lie. He didn’t like it when another touchedJazzy, which was a strange feeling. He’d never cared before, when a woman he was with got attention from others. Quite the opposite, actually; he reveled in it, considering it a reflection on him. The difference was that Jazzy carried his last name. She was his, whether she acknowledged it or not. His to protect, his to fuck, and his to touch. No one else, just him.

“You do know you scared her shitless, right?”

He would have lost his touch if he hadn’t. “That was the point. She’s lucky I haven’t called her boss and got her fired. Yet.”

Wait for it, wait for it…

“Don’t you dare! For all you know, she could be a single mom in desperate need of this job.”

“I don’t care if she’s providing for a fucking orphanage. But, since you’re so worried about her, why don’t we make a deal?”

“What kind of deal?” she asked suspiciously.

For all her outer bluster, Jazzy was soft-hearted. The world would chew her up and spit her out if she continued with that sentiment. He should point that out to her, toughen her up, but for some reason, he didn’t.

“The second we enter our bedroom tonight, you give me whatever I want, and I’ll make sure she doesn’t get fired. And before you ask, yeah, I’m petty like that. I’ll have her kicked to the curb without giving it a second thought.” He saw the defiance in her eyes, but he didn’t care. He was mad at her too, for not stopping the woman touching her.

“I can’t believe you,” she hissed.

“Yet you do.” He never bluffed. She should know that by now.

She grabbed the menu and gave him a glare. “What exactly do you mean by ‘whatever I want’? Just because I don’t want to be semi-responsible for an innocent woman losing her job, doesn’t mean I’m going to agree to whatever crazy thing you might ask. For all I know, you’re into golden showers. In which case, I’d rather just let her take the fall.”

Good. They had reached the negotiating stage. She was testing the waters, while at the same time, telling him she had hard limits. He liked that she didn’t immediately knuckle under. It was inevitable, though, but tonight wasn’t that night. The night he would receive her full submission. For that to work, he first needed her loyalty. To earn her loyalty, she needed to trust him. What better way than to begin with her body?

Even though he wouldn’t consider Jazzy insecure over her body—and why should she be, her every curve was fucking gorgeous—her earlier remarks about his model exes had gotten him thinking.

“I want you to wear a suit that I’ve had designed for you.”

He could see the immediate interest in her eyes, not holding back her desire. He’d never met a woman this attuned to him sexually before. This bold, interested, and responsive. She was fucking addictive, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

He took her home after finishing their dinner, even letting her pay. He couldn’t remember the last time—if ever—a woman had paid for his dinner. Despite her glee of treating “the billionaire mogul” as she put it, he decided it would be the last time.

They didn’t see Mandy again, but Jazzy did leave her a generous tip, after giving him an admonishing glare.

Raoul had them back home in no time. He could see the anticipation in her eyes, as they took the stairs up to their room. Though he wanted to rip her clothes off, he kept himself in check. This wasn’t the plan. Tonight, he had another fantasy to fulfill.

She sauntered inside their bedroom, dropping off her clothes on the floor, a smile on her face. “So, what kind of outfit do you want me to wear? A nurse outfit? Or perhaps a nun’s? Or…oh…” She came to a halt when she spotted the box on her dressing table.

“Put it on while I take a shower.”

He cut the shower short, anticipation making him impatient to see Jazzy in the black latex catsuit he had made for her.

When he walked naked into their bedroom, she lay sprawled on the bed. Covered in latex from her neck to her toes. Every gorgeous curve of her.

“Well, this was unexpected,” she drawled. “Didn’t know you had a latex fetish.”

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