Chapter 12 Santino #3
He grins at me, pushing the boundaries deliberately. "Just that you clearly have your hands full with that one. She's quite spirited."
"Make one more comment," I say with deadly calm, making direct eye contact. "See what happens."
The grin fades from his face immediately. He's not stupid enough to push me further.
"Santino," Carlo stands from the table, playing peacemaker. "Perhaps we should call it a night. You clearly have other priorities requiring your attention."
Other priorities. That's one way to put it.
"The game continues tomorrow night," I say firmly, maintaining control of the situation. "Same time, same place. We're not finished."
"If you say so," Carlo agrees diplomatically.
I turn back to Liana, steering her firmly out of the room and down the narrow staircase, my hand never leaving her back. Outside, the night air is refreshingly cool against my overheated skin. My car is parked in the narrow alley beside the building.
I open the passenger car door and practically push Liana inside, slamming the car door harder than necessary, before going around to my side. I start the car and pull onto the street. We don’t speak as I speed down the road.
“Where are we going?” she asks.
I don’t answer. Instead, I drive to one of my family’s nearby empty warehouses on a secluded street and cut the engine.
"What the fuck," I finally say, "was that?"
"What was what?" She's looking at me with those wide, innocent eyes that I'm beginning to doubt are actually innocent at all.
"You know exactly what I'm talking about. Showing up at a private poker game uninvited. Dressed like that." I gesture at the dress that's barely covering her. "Sitting in my lap in front of dangerous men. With no—" I stop myself, taking a breath. "What the hell were you thinking?"
"Only that you weren't answering any of my texts or calls," she says, as if this explains everything. "I was worried about you. I thought you might be sick or hurt."
"You decided to track me down because I didn’t answer a text?" The absurdity is almost overwhelming.
"Yes. Obviously."
"To a private game with dangerous criminals?"
"I didn't know they were dangerous! I just knew you were there and weren't responding. I thought they were your friends."
"I don’t have any friends. How did you even find me? How did you know where I was?"
She has the grace to look slightly guilty, her eyes dropping briefly.
"I may have put a small tracker on your car. I wasn’t even sure if it would work.
After that night when you drove like a maniac and I had to jump out.
It was for safety purposes, really. I wasn’t spying on you, I promise.
I would never spy on you. I’m not a stalker! "
"You put a tracker on my car." I can barely process this information.
"Just a small one! I ordered it online. It was only twenty euros and the reviews were excellent. I knew exactly where to find you. Isn’t that cool?"
I stare at her in complete disbelief. "You're actively tracking my movements without my knowledge or consent. That is an unbelievable invasion of privacy."
"Only so I know you're safe!"
"That's insane. That's genuinely insane behavior, Liana. It’s unacceptable."
"No, it’s a great idea!"
She shifts in the seat, and the dress rides up again, distracting me completely. I can actually see her bare pussy now. The thought of the men at the poker game getting the same view makes me want to drive back and strangle them all.
"And it worked, didn't it?” she says. “I found you safe and sound."
Oh my God, she’s still talking while I’m losing my fucking mind.
"You interrupted a very important negotiation. There was a lot of money on that table."
"It looked like you were winning," she observes. “Until you quit.”
"That's not the point!" My voice is rising despite my attempts at control. "You can't just show up like that. Dressed like that. Do you have any idea how dangerous that situation was?"
"Dangerous how?" She seems genuinely confused.
"Those men—" I stop, forcing myself to calm down, to think clearly. "Those men are not good people, Liana. They're violent, unpredictable, and extremely dangerous. I was outnumbered and you showed up looking like—"
"Like what?" She tilts her head, waiting.
"Like that!" I gesture at her again, at the dress that's barely covering her body. "Like you were trying to start something. Do you have any idea what they were thinking when they looked at you?"
"I'm sure they were very respectful gentlemen," she says with stunning naiveté. “They seemed nice.”
"They weren't respectful. At all." My hands clench into fists. "They were staring at your legs. At your tits. At—" I stop again, trying to maintain some composure. "Where the fuck is your underwear, Liana? Do you normally go out without your panties?"
She blinks at me, caught off guard. "How did you know I wasn't wearing any?"
"How did I know? Fuck! Because you were sitting directly on my dick. Because when you shifted and crossed your legs, I could feel everything. Every curve. Every movement. And apparently Alexei Volkov could see everything too, based on the way he was staring and grinning at me."
"Oh." She bites her lip, a flash of genuine concern crossing her face. "I didn't mean—it wasn't intentional. I swear it wasn't planned."
"How is that possible? You left your house without underwear and that somehow wasn't intentional? How does that happen? Explain it to me in a way I’ll understand."
"I couldn't find a pair that matched the dress perfectly!
The lines would have shown." She's explaining this like it makes perfect sense.
"I was running late, and I kept looking through my drawer trying to find the right pair, and time just kept slipping away, and I thought—" She stops.
"I thought it would be fine. The dress isn't that short when I'm standing up straight. "
"The dress is barely there. It's more of a suggestion than actual clothing. What did you plan to do? Stand up the whole time?"
"It seemed longer when I was looking in the mirror at home!"
I stare at her, trying to understand. "You tracked down a high-stakes poker game filled with dangerous criminals. Wearing that dress that barely covers you. With nothing underneath. Because you couldn't find matching underwear?"
"When you say it like that, it sounds worse than it is.”
"It’s bad! It's spectacularly bad!"
"I was worried about you! You weren't answering any of my messages!"
"So worried that you forgot to put on panties?"
"Yes!" Her cheeks are flushing now, color rising. "And how did you even know for certain? Did you—did you look?"
"I didn't need to look. I could feel it when you were grinding against me." I lean across the console separating us. "But yes, I looked. When you uncrossed your legs to stand up. How could I not? So did Alexei. So did his brother Dmitri. Both of them saw everything."
Her eyes widen. "They saw everything?"
"They saw enough," I confirm, my hand landing on her thigh just above her knee.
"Enough to know you weren't wearing anything.
Enough to look at you like they wanted to fuck you.
" I stop, getting furious again at the memory.
"I walked away from a thirty-thousand-euro pot because of you.
Because I couldn't concentrate on anything except you. "
"What do you mean?"
"Because all I could think about was this." My hand slides higher, slowly, deliberately, under the hem of that ridiculous excuse for a dress. "Your bare skin. How soft you felt. Whether you were as affected by sitting in my lap as I was. Whether you wanted me to touch you as much as I wanted to."
Her breath catches. "Santo—"
"Whether you were wet for me," I continue, my voice rough with desire.
My fingers brush higher between her legs, and she gasps at the contact.
"You are," I murmur, my voice dropping even lower. "You're absolutely soaked."
"That's—" She breaks off when my hand moves higher. "We're in a car.”
“I don't give a fuck where we are." I lean in close, my mouth near her ear. "You showed up at my game uninvited. Interrupted important business. Sat in my lap with no underwear and drove me completely out of my mind. Now I'm going to finish what you started."
"I didn't start anything—" she protests weakly.
"You did," I correct firmly. My fingers find where she's hot and ready for me. "The moment you walked through that door in this dress. The moment you sat on me and squirmed in my lap. You knew exactly what you were doing."
"I didn't—I swear—" She's breathless now.
"Liar." I kiss along her jaw, tasting her skin. "You wanted this. You wanted my attention."
"Maybe," she admits in barely a whisper. "Maybe I did want this."
"Say it clearly. Tell me."
"I wanted this." Her hips shift against my hand, seeking more contact. "I wanted you to notice me. To react."
"I noticed everything," I assure her. "I noticed the way that dress clung to every curve. The way you moved in my lap. The way you looked at me when I grabbed your thigh as a warning."
"You were so angry," she breathes.
"I still am angry. Furious, actually. You could have been hurt tonight. Those men are genuinely dangerous."
"You wouldn't have let them hurt me," she says with surprising confidence.
"No. I wouldn't have." My other hand slides into her hair, pulling her close.
I capture her mouth in a hard kiss, claiming her completely.
She opens for me immediately, her hands clutching desperately at my shoulders.
She's trembling against me, making small sounds that drive me absolutely crazy with want.
"Santo, please—" she gasps against my mouth.
"Please what? Tell me what you need."
"I need—" She rocks against my hand, seeking more. "You."
Something in me snaps at her words, breaks completely.