Clara reaches for the Pringles, her slim hand retrieving chips from the bottom of the tube effortlessly. I’m jealous. With my big wrists, I always have to wrestle for the last few chips. At least it’s nice to see her with a healthy appetite again.
“I think we’re about to find out how mad.” I open my laptop and navigate to the front page of the New York Union. I hit refresh. Nothing yet.
“You don’t think she’s actually going to leak it, do you?” Clara asks.
“I think that’s exactly what she’s going to do. Debbie doesn’t mess around.”
I doubt my threat will have had much sway over her, though it was worth a try. She barely ever took me seriously as a reporter—she’s certainly not going to take me seriously as a mob queen.
Clara’s eyes widen a little as she fishes for another chip. “What are you going to do if she does it?”
I shake my head, refreshing the screen again. “I don’t know. Will you wait with me?”
Clara’s blue eyes meet mine across the desk, shining with sincerity. “Of course.”
We don’t have to wait for long. Debbie must have had the article locked and loaded because sure enough, two refreshes later and a new headline is splashed across the front page.
BILLIONAIRE’S MISTRESS THREATENS POLICE OFFICER IN SECRET RECORDING.
I turn the laptop to Clara, and she reads the title. “Yikes.”
Yikes is right.
“You know what’s most annoying?” I grumble. “I’m not his fucking mistress.”
Clara lifts one brow. “That’s the most annoying bit?”
We read through the article, which contains a transcription of the recording but also includes a link for anybody who wants to listen to my seething threats themselves. It’s bad. Really bad. And I know any moment, Gabriel is going to burst in here and—
Laura buzzes. “Ms. Wright, Gabriel Bellucci is here to see you.”
Gabriel strides through the door before Laura has even finished speaking. I press the intercom button. “Thank you, Laura.”
Clara’s head swings around, and when she looks back at me, she grimaces. “I’m going to go.”
“Thank you, Clara.”
She scurries out of the office. I don’t blame her for evacuating the scene—Gabriel looks furious. His dark eyes are narrowed with deadly precision, jaw tight, lips flat. As usual, he looks sexier than ever when he’s angry. As always, that’s highly inconvenient.
“Hey,” I greet once we’re alone.
“What the fuck was Debbie Harris thinking?” he asks, and like a bolt out of the blue, it hits me that Gabriel isn’t angry at me. “What happened?”
I take a breath. Gabriel’s dominant energy is flooding the room, and I struggle to form words. “Yeah, uh, she came to visit me today. Bit of a nightmare, actually. She said that if I didn’t give her information on you, she was going to leak Ruby’s recording. And I wouldn’t, so she did.”
Gabriel crosses the room in three long strides and plants his hands on the desk. “We need to deal with her. We can’t let her get away with embarrassing you like that.”
Embarrassing me? I mean, of course, I am the one with egg on my face, but I’m used to Gabriel taking everything I do and twisting it around to how it affects him. But he isn’t concerned about his image right now. He’s worried about mine. He’s angry that Debbie has humiliated me. He wants to make her pay for what she did not to him, but to me.
I swallow. It’s hard to be angry at Debbie when I’m so goddamn turned on. Is it wrong to find Gabriel sexy when he’s contemplating murder?
“I don’t want to hurt her,” I say, briefly pulling my libido back in check. “She’s been through a lot because of this war. I think we should scare her, but I want to be very clear that no harm should come to her or her daughter.”
Gabriel’s jaw works back and forth. “Fine.”
Heat flashes between my thighs. This powerful man—this force to be fucking reckoned with—is ceding to my wishes. God, that feels good. And hell if it doesn’t turn me on.
“In the meantime,” I say, rolling back in my chair. I’m wearing a knee-length pencil skirt, and when I widen my legs, Gabriel’s eyes flick to the movement. “Maybe you could help distract me from what the mean Scottish lady did?”
His lip ticks slightly at the corner, and when his eyes meet mine again, they burn with arousal. “I suppose I could do that.”
Gabriel stalks around the side of the desk like a leopard circling its prey, holding my gaze the entire time. My heart catches in my throat. My sex clenches in anticipation. I go to stand, but Gabriel holds his hand out.
“Stay,” he commands.
I stay.
He places his hands on the arms of my chair and bends over to kiss me. The kiss is tender. Sweet. He pushes, and the chair rolls backward until it bumps against the window. I glance over my shoulder, and the whole city sprawls out behind me, and even though I know I am perfectly safe, having a set of wheels near such a steep drop still makes my heart patter nervously.
Gabriel guides my mouth back to his and deepens this kiss. His tongue traces over my bottom lip, and I widen for him. He begins a languid exploration of my mouth, and one of his hands starts to roam over my body, squeezing my breasts before trailing down my stomach and over my thighs, and finally to my bare calves. His fingers leave fire in their wake.
Gabriel traces a finger up the inside of my leg and dips it under my skirt to skim along my naked thigh. I desperately want him to continue this exploration, to reach all the way up to my sex. He doesn’t. He removes his hand and breaks the kiss.
I open my eyes and watch as Gabriel lowers to his knees. He must read the question on my face as he grins and yanks my ass to the edge of the chair, then scrunches the skirt up over my hips.
Gabriel lowers his mouth to my now-bare thighs, and I let out a low moan.
“Are you distracted yet?” he asks between kisses.
“Nope,” I lie. “I’m still very, very tense and upset.”
He chuckles, and the sensation of it vibrates over my skin. I feel so exposed here, with the city wide open behind me and my skirt around my waist. But that only adds a level of excitement to the already erotic sight of Gabriel kneeling between my legs, his lips hovering teasingly over my panties.
He kisses me through the fabric. His breath is hot, his touch soft. I moan and let my head fall back, vibrating with my need for more. Gabriel obliges, pressing harder against me. He kisses my left thigh, then my right, and then starts to peel my panties over my legs. When he tosses them to the floor, he reaches up to grab my chin, forcing my head down so our eyes meet as he runs his tongue between my cleft.
I lose myself in the pleasure and Gabriel’s swirling, dark irises. He adjusts my legs so they are over his shoulders and then proceeds to lick and suck at an almost lazy pace. My body thrums with electricity.
I tangle my fingers in his silky hair and forget all time and space. I forget that I’m in my office, that it’s the middle of the day, that at any moment my receptionist could buzz in and announce the arrival of any number of people whose only intent would be to ruin my day. Ruby Flint, Felicity Huffman, Kevin Lynch…Those names fly out of the window because the only name my brain has space for is Gabriel Bellucci. He is the only thing that matters. His lips, his tongue, the nibble of his teeth.