Chapter 8
DOMINIC
Sofia isn’t at her desk when I show up the next morning, which is unusual for her. For a moment, I worry the bonus offended her. Silly, of course. Who gets upset about extra money?
This is Sofia, though. Too perceptive by half. She doesn’t accept things without paying attention and working out why. Even if she never says a word, the wheels in her head keep turning.
I’m in my head about it until she shows up ten minutes later, looking frazzled and distracted.
“I’m so sorry I’m late,” she says when she comes into my office. “I promise it won’t happen again.”
I put my hand up to stop her. “Sofia, you’re usually thirty minutes early. I’m not too concerned with you being late one time,” I tell her honestly.
She nods, lets out a breath, and turns toward the door. Her shoulders are tighter than usual. I hate how easily I notice that.
“Is everything okay?” I ask before she can leave.
She turns back with a small smile. A fake one. Just another thing I can read off her in a second. She may be perceptive, but she’s got nothing on how obsessively I’ve started watching her lately.
“Just personal stuff.” she shrugs. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“Sofia,” I say softly. “Of course I’m worried. If something is wrong, you can tell me.”
She pauses for a moment. I think she’s about to spill it all, but then she just shakes her head. “You’ve got enough on your plate,” she says. “You’ve got a meeting with the Francelo Group in fifteen minutes.”
I nod and let it go, for now.
I sit through the meeting and think about her the whole time anyway. My head isn’t in the game, but thankfully no one notices. When it wraps, I find Sofia at her desk, combing her fingers through her hair, stressed.
“That’s it,” I tell her. “We’re going to lunch.”
She looks up in surprise. “It’s only 11:30,” she protests. “And you have a lunch meeting at noon.”
“Cancel it,” I tell her. “I’m taking you out and you’re going to tell me exactly what’s going on.”
She bites her lip and looks like she may argue.
“Cancel it,” I tell her again. “And grab your things.”
She reluctantly nods. Ten minutes later, we’re seated in the back booth of my favorite Italian deli. She’s got her eyes purposely glued to the menu.
“Sofia,” I say. “Talk to me.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not a big deal,” she replies. “My dad’s just gotten himself into something that I wasn’t aware of, and there was some blowback last night.”
I raise my eyebrow and reach over to push down her menu so she’ll be forced to look at me.
“What kind of ‘something’?” I ask her pointedly.
“These guys showed up at his garage,” she finally says. “He owes their boss some money. I didn’t know, and now we’re fighting.”
I nod and pull out my phone, texting Rafe to look into it. I can’t have her dragging this kind of worry into work. At least, that’s the lie I tell myself. The truth is, I just want to do whatever I can to lighten her load.
An hour later, when we’re back at work, Rafe texts that her father, Marco, owes money to a low-level loan shark named Giancarlo Andante. A lot of fucking money, thanks to a predatory loan. No wonder Sofia is so upset. Worse, Andante washes money for Enzo Calderone. What the hell are the odds?
I call him immediately. “We need to take care of this,” I tell him. “I can’t have my assistant’s father owing Calderone money.”
“I’ve got a few channels I can utilize,” he tells me. “Are you really going to pay off that amount, though? I know you like her, but goddamn, Dom. That’s a lot of fucking money.”
“She’s worth it,” I answer in a clipped voice. “And we don’t need Calderone figuring out the connection. You know he’d just use it to exploit me for money anyway. I’m getting rid of that possibility.”
“All right.” He sighs. “Send me the money and I’ll get it handled.”
I don’t hesitate for a second, even though I know this crosses every professional boundary I’ve ever set. Which is confirmed when Sofia bursts into my office an hour after she should’ve gone home.
“What the hell did you do?” she demands.
I lean back in my chair and watch her carefully. “You had a problem and I handled it,” I tell her honestly.
She shakes her head sharply. “I didn’t ask you to do that,” she says through clenched teeth.
“You didn’t have to,” I say lightly. “I could see that you needed help so I helped.”
“Without my consent,” she huffs. “And I want to be very clear about what this is. What do you want in return for buying out my father’s debt?”
I stare at her blankly. “In return?” I ask, confused.
“Yes,” she answers firmly. “Men like you always expect something in return. Is this hush money for not bringing up what happened with Mr. Armand? Are you trying to buy my loyalty to you?”
“It’s not like that,” I try to argue, but she’s too angry to hear anything.
“It’s always like that,” she says. “Men like you think money can solve everything. And you dug into my father’s personal business. Who the hell does that?”
“Sofia—”
“He’s furious,” she continues. “He’s embarrassed that I got my boss involved, and furious because he thinks you’re some kind of shady creep that I know owe.”
“Those men would’ve broken his legs if they’d had a chance,” I manage to get in. “That’s who you should be angry at.”
“I am angry at them! And I’m angry at you. You don’t get to throw money at my problems—”
“I paid a debt,” I tell her. “I didn’t buy your life.”
Her face goes pale with fury. I’ve said the wrong thing.
“Are you sure about that?” she asks. “Because I can never, ever, pay you back that money.”
I watch her carefully for a moment before I respond.
“It was a gift,” I say softly. “I don’t expect you to pay it back.”
“You shouldn’t be giving me gifts like that,” she accuses. “You’re my boss, Dominic. You shouldn’t have gotten involved in my personal life. It isn’t your job to take care of me.”
I finally stand, irritation forcing me to my feet.
“You’re so goddamn stubborn, Sofia,” I say. “Don’t pretend you haven’t been running yourself ragged to pay your father’s debt. It’s why you took this job, isn’t it? It’s why you didn’t argue about the bonus I gave you. Suddenly it’s a problem because I did something about it?”
She lets out a frustrated squeal. “You aren’t even listening to me!”
“And you aren’t listening to me,” I shoot back. “Why the hell are we even fighting about this?”
“Because you’re my boss,” she says quietly. “It wasn’t your place to do this.”
I nod sarcastically as I approach her. “Whose place is it, then?”
She looks up at me when I’m just inches from her and swallows hard.
“I don’t know,” she finally admits, all the fire gone from her voice. “A boyfriend? A partner?”
“Do you have one of those?” I ask her darkly.
I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to my lips or the way she licks her own.
“No,” she finally admits.
Good.
“Then who else is going to take care of you?”
She closes the space between us, and I reach for her right back.
My hands find her waist and hers wrap around my neck the moment our lips meet.
There’s all the heat from our fight in it, but something else underneath, too.
An unspoken agreement that this is where we’ve always been headed, maybe. A want that’s finally getting answered.
I turn her around and walk her back to my desk. In one quick motion, I sweep my arm across the surface, moving anything out of the way that might hurt her. Then, I lift her up onto the desk. Her hands tangle in my hair as my fingers start working down the buttons of her blouse.
I kiss the sensitive skin at the base of her neck and nearly lose it at the way she moans my name.
When her shirt slides off her shoulders, I take a moment to marvel at her perfect breasts.
They’re spilling out of a bra that is just slightly too small.
I want to rip it off of her with my teeth.
As if reading my mind, she reaches behind her and starts undoing the clasps.
I let out a hiss as the fabric falls to the floor, following her blouse.
My God, she is more perfect than I’d imagined.
She watches me nervously, like she’s afraid I’m going to devour her.
That’s exactly what I want to do. Instead, I kiss her slowly before licking a trail from her neck to her chest.
Her back arches into me as I take one of her nipples into my mouth, gently groping her other breast with my hand. Her own hand reaches between us and disappears underneath the waistband of her pants. Fuck if that doesn’t turn me on.
“Stop,” I tell her. “I want to see you.”
She looks at me with a wicked look in her eye as I slowly remove her pants. One of my hands follows her as she starts stroking herself. I kiss her again as her hand guides mine.
“Do you ever think about me when you touch yourself?” I whisper into her ear.
She shudders without response.
“You’ll start to,” I promise her. “But it’s never going to be as good as the real thing.”
She whimpers as I take her hand and bring it to my lips, sucking the taste of her off her fingers. Then I replace her fingers with my own, feeling the shape and stretch of her. It might be a tight fit, but she’s already soaked.
She starts panting and moaning my name as I circle her clit, but I don’t want her there just yet. I pull my hand back and bring it under her chin, tipping her face up for better access to her mouth. Her body jerks against mine, desperate for the friction of release.
I push her down so she’s lying on the desk and pull her hips to the edge.
She watches me with heavy-lidded eyes as I pull down my own pants.
She bites her lips when she sees my cock, making me desperately want to know what it would feel like to have her lips around it.
For now, though, I just want to make her feel good.
I position myself at her entrance, easing inside her as fast as I dare. I was right. She’s unbelievably tight. She gasps at the size of me while I do everything I can not to come the second I’m in her. Goddamn, she feels so good around me. I swear I go to another dimension for a few seconds.
Then her hips rise to meet me and instinct takes over. Her hands grip the edge of my desk, the tie still hanging around my neck, anywhere they can find purchase. She lets out loud, satisfied moans with every thrust, until her cries of pleasure turn almost deafening.
Her pussy clenches around my cock, milking me for all I’ve got and I trip over the edge, emptying myself deep inside her.
“Fuck Sofia, you feel so fucking perfect.”
When her breathing returns to normal, she wiggles to get out from under me.
She collects her clothes from the floor and dresses in silence, not even looking at me.
“Should we—?” I start, but she puts up a hand to stop me.
“I need to go home,” she says.
I see the conflict on her face, and I know that I’ve just made one of the biggest mistakes of my life.
Even so, I can’t bring myself to regret it, even when she’s gone.