Page 73 of Demanding Mob Boss

Fuck. I did too. But that wasn’t what was safest right now.

"Are you still planning to move my cameras?" I ask.

"Yes."

Anger surges in me, but I refuse to let her see it. She has every right to move the cameras. If she wanted to get rid of them completely, she could. My brain takes a dark and twisted turn when I think of her doing that. Damn it.

I take a right when I should go left to reach our office building.

"Where are we going?"

"To a specialty jeweler." I'd intended to have Connor pick the anklet up for me later today, but now I want it on her immediately.

I use my voice feature to text the jeweler and tell him I'll be at his place in thirty minutes or less. It will make it tight for me to get to the office in time for my meeting with Quinn. If I'm a few minutes late? Too fucking bad.

ANNA

Cian pulls the car to a stop in front of a house.

"I thought we were going to a jeweler," she says.

"We are. Yiorgos works out of his home."

"That's a Greek name, isn't it?"

"He is cousin to Stavros."

"The man who owns the Deli? He's friendly when I call to make a lunch order."

Cian shoots me a look. "He's dangerous."

"Like you?"

"No. Because I am not and never will be dangerous to you."

"But he is?"

"Yes."

The door opens as we approach and I don't pursue the conversation, but I wonder how someone taking an order for food over the phone can be a danger to me.

The man standing in the doorway is big and imposing, but he doesn't scare me because I'm not alone. I'm with Cian.

He nods to the man, but doesn’t greet him with any words and we go into the house without talking to him. Cian seems to know where he's going. He leads me down a hall and into a room on the left that at one time was probably the parlor. Now, it's set up like a waiting room with armchairs along two walls and a table in the center.

There are no magazines on the table, like at a doctor's office. Just a square box covered in blue velvet so dark it's almost black. We don't sit down, but stand near the table and a couple of seconds later a thin man with stooped shoulders and a thick head of white hair comes in.

He's carrying a small box and he sets it down on the table. "Hello, Mr. Doyle. The item is exactly as you specified."

Item? The box is long and rectangular. I hope it's not a necklace. I don't like having anything around my throat, but for Cian I would try to wear it. For a little while at least.

"Show me," Cian says.

The older man opens the box and pulls out what looks like a thick flat gold bracelet. He lays it on the velvet and then takes out a tool he uses to point. "The clasp is a puzzle lock. Only someone with the sequence key can open it. The tracking device draws power from the metal's conduit connection to the body. It is fully waterproof and can withstand temperatures well beyond the human body's capacity. The titanium is bonded with gold overlay as you wanted."

As soon as he said tracking device, I knew this was for me. I'm glad it's not a necklace, but I'm not sure I can wear a bracelet all day, every day either. I should have told Cian I would prefer having a tracker embedded in one of my teeth. I mean, that would be just like getting a filling, right?

Cian picks up the gold chain and then kneels in front of me, one knee bent. He taps his thigh. "Put your foot up here."

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