Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
STEFANO
B reathtaking. That’s the only word that can be used to describe the goddess before me. As she descends from the porch towards our waiting town car, my mouth parts to compliment her, but every eloquent thought I have is silenced by an uncooperative body.
My eyes trace a languid journey starting at the criminally sexy red stilettos and up the slit of scarlet silk that promises to have me murdering anyone who dares to appreciate her legs. As far as I can tell, she must have been sewn into this dress because the corseted bodice looks like a second skin. One I’d happily rip off her right now, just so I could explore every inch of her body with my tongue.
As my gaze stops on her face, I’m instantly humbled by her smile. She exudes a natural confidence laced with a hint of mischief that makes me want to abandon this whole evening and spend the night worshipping the little minx. She knew exactly what she was doing when she chose this dress for the gala. I’m going to be hard all night long.
With every step, her left leg slices through the cascade of silk, exposing the same exquisite thigh I had wrapped around my neck this morning.
“I think you're trying to incite violence tonight, micetta ?” I say, barely able to string my words together. I’m practically salivating at the thought of diving under the waterfall of fabric and recreating the morning's activities right here on the front steps.
“Whatever do you mean?” Her voice comes out laced with a melodic innocence while her wry smile betrays her intention.
I push off the hood of my car and cross to her, raising a hand to help her down the last few steps. Leaning in, I let the gravel in my voice rake over the shell of her ear. “It will be difficult not to pluck out the eyes of a single person I catch appreciating what’s mine.”
I don’t miss the shiver that flutters through her at my words. Before she has a chance to rail against my possessiveness, I circle her waist and pull her close, stealing her lips in a kiss. What starts as a delicate touch rapidly escalates to a battle between us, one where we both struggle to rein our desire in. When we break away, I lose myself in her eyes as her pupil’s flare, glistening like rich beads of obsidian.
She slaps my chest playfully and rolls her eyes. “Now that you’ve completely destroyed the make-up I spent the last half an hour applying, you now have the pleasure of waiting on me again while I fix it.”
The glare she throws my way is undermined by the soft desperate pants and smile that teases the corner of her mouth. My cock strains against my zipper as I appreciate the crimson smudges around her lips. Before the night is out, I will have this vixen on her knees and smearing that same lipstick along the length of my cock. I can’t stop myself from running my thumb along her plump bottom lip and blurring the smudge even more.
Thrusting her purse into my chest, she turns and heads back towards the house, shaking her head. “What is it about men and a bright red lip?” she mutters, stomping her feet just a little harder than necessary. “And you might want to correct your lipstick too, vecchietto . I don’t think it’s your colour.”
I smile and make my way to the car, bending over by the side mirror to inspect the damage. A part of me is loathed to wipe it off, but since this is our first proper date and it happens to be her largest work event of the year, I don’t think turning up looking like I’ve just ravaged her in the car is probably the look she’s going for.
It’s strange. This is the first time in a long time that I’ve attended anything where it wasn’t about me, or my work. I’m entirely out of my comfort zone and while I’m there to protect her, mostly I’m there as Doctor Mancini’s partner. There’s no situation where I’d feel out of my depth, that's not what I’m feeling, but it is strange to present myself to a world so different from my own.
I have two jobs tonight. Keep her safe and be her arm candy. I stand by her side while she schmoozes the board and the donors and keep Danny away from her if he shows up.
I’ve had people on him for over a week now, and the only thing he appears to be obsessed with is his new girlfriend. Maybe he’s moved on, but the more intel I’m sent on him, the more something doesn’t sit right. Yes, he’s young and easily infatuated, as is evident from the sheer volume of time he’s spending with this new woman, but nothing about his behaviour screams possessive lunatic. Still, I’m keeping my people on him because the last thing I want is to make a stalker another woman’s problem.
There have been no more home deliveries, and since blocking the last number to bombard Katerina with messages, it’s been quiet. However, just because Danny isn’t tripping my spidey senses, doesn’t mean that they’re not currently convinced Katerina is in danger. With every day that passes, I have a growing sense of dread. It could simply be that after wanting her for so long, I’m wary of anything that could come between us, but it feels like more than that. I just can’t put my finger on it right now and in the meantime, I will do whatever it takes to keep her safe.
As we enter the conference suite, I’m impressed with how they’ve been able to turn what’s obviously a corporate-style conference suite into an exceptionally opulent event space. I was dubious when Katerina said it was being held on site, but it’s definitely giving fine dining mixed with rich man's playground. One side of the room is set up with a dance floor and tables with more silverware laid out than I’ve ever seen, and the other is decked out with live jazz music and casino tables.
“So, this is how you fleece the rich? You get them drunk and let them gamble their money away.”
A server walks past with a tray of champagne flutes and I take two, passing her one as she nods. “Every one of those chips they’re playing with is a minimum of a thousand dollars, and as we know… the house always wins. However, even the few who win donate it all at the end of the night.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“They get their fun in showing every other rich fucker here that they can afford to lose more than the next person.”
“Clever,” I say with a chuckle. “Who gives the least fucks about how much they can lose.”
“Precisely. Two tech bros got into a pissing contest last year, which ended in the worst display of idiocy I’ve ever seen. One invited the other to ‘take it outside’ and they tripped over each other on their way down the stairs and ended up in the emergency room. On the plus side, we got another X-ray suite out of it because they were so angry at the wait time for films.”
I let out a burst of laughter that draws attention from the craps table. I straighten my spine as I’m scrutinised by a collection of over-educated, under-whelming men giving off so much small dick energy, it’s like being rolled over by a wave of inadequacy. They may be sneering at me, but I can see the switches flip in their heads when they swap their gazes from me to Katerina.
Their faces light up with a lecherous flare and if we were anywhere else, they’d already be laid out flat on the floor. My skin crawls when their eyes linger on her and before she can object, I reach out, laying a palm on the small of her back before moving it to her hip. I can’t help the firm grip or the way I pull her into my side in an obvious declaration of ownership.
I stare the pricks down, feeling her breath tickle over the top of my collar as she turns into my touch and says, “Pissing on me would be a more effective way of marking your territory.”
“So would bending you over the nearest table and fucking you within an inch of your life, but something tells me the board would frown upon that.” I retort. She lets out a giggle, and it defuses me a little, but not by much. I let go of my grip and gesture for her to lead the way. This is her show, and I’m merely her window dressing for the night.
As the night goes on, I find myself more and more in awe of the woman by my side. This is her natural habitat. After checking in with several board members, it’s like she’s been given her mission for the evening, and we weave through the cocktail hour ticking off each and every big spender. She makes her case for improvements that can be made for her department, but when it’s clear, she’s hitting a brick wall with our current conversationally challenged millionaire—a chauvinist asshole who’d rather stare at her tits than listen to her speak—she introduces him to one of the male heads of departments.
Once he’s been successfully deflected to Doctor Hendrix, I whisper in her ear, “You’re a better person than me. I was having visions of plucking his eyes out with salad tongs if he spent one more second staring at your cleavage.”
“Just wait until after he’s signed the cheque,” she replies with a shrug and a wink.
There’s a clinking of silverware on glass from the other side of the room, which starts a mass exodus to the tables for the dinner.
“Do we get any respite while we eat?”
“Yes. Cocktail hour is on the docs. It’s the board's turn to inflate their egos during dinner. Then it’s all hands on deck after the speeches.” I roll my eyes when she mentions speeches, but I’m only teasing, and her smile says she knows that. My heart beats a little harder as she takes my hand and leads me to the table. I can’t deny the thrill I get being claimed by her in any small way.
Any sense of ease and happiness evaporates the second we arrive at our table. Glancing down at the place settings, we’ve been seated next to Doctor God Complex himself, Dylan Jenkins. I’d hoped to avoid having to listen to him enjoy the sound of his own voice.
“This is going to be fun.” I groan, trying to inject some light-heartedness into my voice as I point Katerina’s attention towards the place card.
“Just rise above, vecchietto . Be a good boy and you can tear this dress off me later,” she purrs, pressing her lips to my cheek and suddenly quashing every instinct I have to teach the good doctor a lesson in humility. I reach for the bottle of wine in the ice bucket in the centre of the table and fill our glasses, knowing it’s going to take more than an improperly chilled Chablis to improve my mood.