Chapter 46 Kane
Kane
Ihad planned to go home for a few hours. Catch some sleep. But I can’t leave her. Lorenzo heard about the attack on our car and called Angelo in for a meeting. He’s concerned this is an escalation of the bullshit we’re currently dealing with.
Angelo hates involving his father, but Lorenzo isn’t quite ready to retire yet. Truthfully, Lorenzo is bored and searching for reasons to remain relevant, even though Angelo is supposed to be in charge these days.
Turns out, fucking random women and playing golf every day isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.
Who knew?
Like that lifestyle would ever be mine.
If I don’t die in the line of duty, so to speak, I’ll probably drink myself to death. Either is fine. I’m not expecting to live a long and happy life. Men like me rarely do.
Chiara stands in front of me, facing the table, her shoulders tense. I expected her to crash hours ago once the adrenaline faded. The little dog sits at her feet, watching me with baleful eyes. I have a feeling that if I step out of line, she’ll attack.
But I ignore the dog, and after a few seconds, she rests her snout on her paws and closes her eyes.
“This would feel better with massage oil,” I comment while digging my fingers into the tight knots across Chiara’s shoulders.
At my request, she’s removed her sweater.
Her tee is loose enough that it hangs off one tanned shoulder.
I wonder if she’s wearing a bra and then decide I can’t let my thoughts drift in that direction. Not unless I want my cock to get hard.
“Maybe Angelo has some.” She chokes out a laugh that turns into a moan when I tackle an especially tight spot. “Fuck, that feels good.”
She moans again when my fingers slide up the column of her slim neck. I lean in to inhale her scent, all the while knowing I’m crossing a line. The only thing that would stop me right now is Angelo, but he’ll be too busy managing Lorenzo’s absurd expectations to focus on his cameras.
“Does that feel better, kitten?” She whimpers when I press harder into a knotty spot between her shoulder blades.
“No, it hurts,” she admits.
“It will until I release the tension.” I can think of a much better way to release her tension. My hands skate down her back and slip under her tee.
“Wha…what are you doing?” She doesn’t jump away, which tells me she wants this.
“Releasing some tension.”
The dog grumbles irritably at me when I press my body against her back, my hands on her stomach, but I ignore it.
Chiara’s skin is warm and soft to my touch. She has curves where I’m all hard lines. Since living here, she’s filled out some, and she looks better for it.
I prefer my women with curves, and Chiara has plenty of those.
“This feels like the sort of massage that comes with a happy ending,” she jokes while leaning back into me.
“Relax, kitten. I can still feel how tense you are. Unless you relax, you won’t sleep.”
“That’s why I came down for chamomile tea.”
“I can stop?” My fingers trace a line above the waistband of her shorts. She could push me back if she wanted. Or practice any of the moves I’ve taught her, but she does neither of those things.
A small huff of annoyance escapes, and she rubs her ass against me in an unspoken invitation—an invitation my cock receives loud and clear. The dog moves away and settles on the rug by the fireplace.
“My back aches,” she admits. “I probably have whiplash. Know any personal injury lawyers?”
“Nope.” I pick her up easily and carry her over to the small sofa by the window.
Even though there’s only one lamp on in here, the guards stationed outside can still see in if they care to look, so I pull the blinds down.
None of them would dare go against me, but I don’t want them to witness what I’m about to do.
Luka might get off on being an exhibitionist, but I don’t.
I place her on the sofa and kneel between her legs. She stares down at me in confusion.
“Um, I thought you were giving me a massage?”
“I am.” I pull her shorts off. She squeaks in outrage, but instead of kicking me in the face, she waits to see what I have planned.
The panties she wears barely cover anything.
They’re nothing but a tiny scrap of lace and silk.
Definitely not anything Fina left for her, so Luka must have bought them.
The little shit loves to get one over on Angelo, and knowing Chiara is wearing underwear he’s chosen for her will do that. I bet Angelo has no fucking clue.
“Did your husband buy you these panties?” I ask in a stern voice. The smirk she throws me confirms what I suspect.
“Naughty girl,” I tut.
“Would Angelo prefer I wore no panties at all?”
“No, but I would.”