Chapter 17 #2
They’re so absorbed in their little conversation that they don’t even notice me standing in the doorway. Daniel is grinning, leaning forward, completely lost in whatever story he’s telling her.
He’s supposed to be guarding her, not playing best friend. I should really shoot him right now.
I clear my throat.
Daniel’s head snaps up so fast I’m surprised he doesn’t get whiplash. The stupid grin dies instantly as he shoots to his feet.
“Boss—”
I don’t say a word. I just stare at Daniel until he looks like he wants the floor to swallow him.
Eleonora’s laughter cuts off. She turns, her eyes meeting mine. I glance at her quickly, relieved she’s wearing proper clothes and not those tiny shorts that would force me to gouge Daniel’s eyes out.
I look back at my idiot soldier. “What’s so funny?”
Eleonora answers before he can. “It was just something Daniel said.”
I zero in on him, voice cold. “Is that so? Since when did you become a fucking comedian, Daniel?”
He stutters, face going pale. “I—I was just—”
I want to knock the air out of him. Break his nose again for good measure.
Still staring at Daniel, I order without looking at her, “Go to your bedroom, Eleonora.”
“I’m not a dog you can just order around,” she snaps.
I slowly turn my gaze on her. One hard look is all it takes. She glares daggers at me, but stands up and storms off, shoulders stiff with anger.
The second she’s out of sight, I grab Daniel by the front of his shirt and yank him close.
“Your job is to guard her,” I growl. “You’re her bodyguard. Not her fucking buddy. Not her comedian. Not her friend. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Boss,” he chokes out. “It won’t happen again.”
I shove him back hard enough that he stumbles.
Then I turn and walk away, taking the stairs two at a time.
Am I really jealous of my own men now? Over her?
I’m supposed to leave soon for the meeting with Nikolai, but the idea of leaving Eleonora here, even with other guards around, suddenly sits like acid in my gut.
I can’t miss this meeting. The Russians are too important right now. But the thought of Daniel making her laugh… of her looking at him the way she should only look at me…
I clench my jaw so hard it aches. I can’t believe what I’m about to do.
I open her bedroom door without knocking. Eleonora turns from where she’s sitting on the bed, eyes narrowing instantly.
“You really need to learn how to knock,” she snaps. “I could have been naked.”
I lean against the doorframe, crossing my arms over my chest, and let my gaze drag slowly down her body before returning to her face.
“Is that so?” I murmur.
Her cheeks flush a deep pink. “Are you picturing me naked right now?”
“Maybe.”
She shakes her head, but I don’t miss the way her breath catches. The silence stretches between us. My eyes trace the curve of her neck, the way her top clings to her breasts, the smooth skin of her thighs in those leggings.
She does dangerous things to me. Makes me hard with just a look. Makes me want to lock the door and finish what we started this morning in the gym.
I clear my throat.
“So,” she says, trying to sound casual, “did you break Daniel’s nose again?”
My jaw tightens. “You’re worried about Daniel’s wellbeing now?”
She shrugs, a small smirk playing on her lips. “I just don’t want his nose to be too broken. Is that… jealousy I’m detecting, Lombardi?”
I ignore the question and push off the doorframe. “Get ready. We’re going out.”
She blinks. “Where?”
“One hours. Be ready.”
She stands up. “I have nothing to wear.”
“A dress will be brought up to you,” I say, already turning to leave.
I close the door behind me before she can argue and call for Maria, the maid who brought her clothes before.
When she appears, I hand her a thick stack of cash. “There’s a boutique nearby. I need an evening dress for Eleonora. Simple, elegant. Nothing too revealing. Get heels too. And a blonde wig.”
Where I'm taking her doesn't require her in a dress, but I guess I'm looking for an excuse to see her in one.
Maria nods quickly. “Yes, sir. I’ll have it ready within the hour.”
As she hurries off, I swear under my breath, dragging a hand down my face. This is reckless. Stupid. Dangerous.
Taking Eleonora out in public, especially tonight, when I’m meeting Nikolai, is asking for trouble. If anyone recognizes her, if word gets back to Massimo or Andrea, this whole delicate situation could explode.
I’m supposed to be keeping her hidden, using her as leverage, not parading her around like she’s mine to show off. But the thought of leaving her here with Daniel, of him making her laugh again while I’m gone… it burns.
I’m already running late when I stop outside her bedroom door. I knock before opening it, and the sight that greets me nearly knocks the air out of my lungs.
Eleonora stands in the middle of the room wearing the dress Maria brought back. It’s a deep midnight blue, elegant, with a high neckline, long sleeves, falling just below her knees. But the fabric clings to every curve like it was poured over her body.
It hugs her waist, accentuates the swell of her breasts, and traces the flare of her hips in a way that makes my mouth go dry. The color makes her skin glow and her dark eyes look even more dangerous.
A wavy blonde wig covers her hair, transforming her just enough that she might pass unnoticed at first glance. It should help conceal her identity.
However, it makes me want to yank it off and bury my hands in her real hair.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath.
She turns, smoothing the dress over her hips, and looks at me with a raised brow. “How do I look?”
Beautiful. The word is right on the tip of my tongue. I bite it back.
“We’re leaving,” I say instead, voice rougher than I intended, and turn toward the door before I do something stupid like push her against the wall.
She follows me, heels clicking softly. “The wig is… a nice touch. Maybe I should dye my hair blonde for real.”
I groan internally. I like her hair the way it is, dark, silky, perfect for wrapping around my fist.
She keeps talking as we head downstairs. “Do you always keep wigs and dresses on standby for the people you kidnap?”
I ignore her.
She continues anyway. “I’m surprised you’re taking me out. You never fail to remind me I’m your prisoner, and now you’re letting me leave the mansion?”
I stop at the bottom of the stairs and pin her with a look. “This isn’t a date. And I can send you straight back to your room if you’d prefer.”
Her mouth snaps shut. “No. I’m good.”
We get into the back of the armored SUV. The moment the door closes and we’re alone in the dim interior, the air grows thick.
She’s sitting too close. Her scent fills the car. Every breath I take pulls more of her into my lungs. My eyes keep drifting to the way the dress molds to her thighs, the elegant line of her neck, the soft curve of her lips painted a deep red.
I want to drag her onto my lap. I want to push that dress up to her waist, rip those panties aside, and bury myself so deep inside her she forgets her own name.
I want to taste her again, swallow every moan, feel her come apart on my cock while the city lights blur past the windows.
How perfectly she’d fit around me, how sweet she’d sound begging, how good it would feel to ruin her for anyone else.
I’m losing my fucking mind. This woman is twisting me up in ways I’ve never allowed anyone to. And I don’t know how to make it stop.