Chapter 10
Matteo Ricco
Mr. Brunswick is gay. The man I kept by my side for over half a decade is attracted to men.
It doesn’t matter. He has been nothing but professional and efficient since I plucked him off the streets seven years ago. Literally. With my plans too big to manage on my own and my resources limited, I went in search of a diamond in the rough, and I found it in Liam Brunswick.
Now he owns ten percent of shares on top of a salary that would make God happy. He stays working because he’s as invested in this company as I am.
He kept his sexual orientation a secret for seven years, but Brook gained his trust within a day of meeting him and freed him of my assumptions.
The tension in Brook’s body triples. I peel my shocked stare away from Mr. Brunswick and meet terrified chocolate orbs. Memories swim in her eyes, but no matter how hard I wrack my brain, I can’t figure out what it has to do with me.
I turn quizzical eyes back to my personal assistant. He shrugs.
“So what if you’re gay? Brook could make anyone go straight, but she’s mine,” I growl.
For the first time in seven years, Liam Brunswick huffs and gives me an exasperated stare.
Confusion joins the tension wafting off Brook. I lift her chin with my knuckle.
“What are you so afraid of, little rabbit? Mr. Brunswick knows the ins and outs of my schedule. I couldn’t fire him even if I wanted to, and he knows it. Look at him,” I say as I nudge her chin toward my right-hand man.
Mr. Brunswick’s cool expression proves my point.
“But… don’t you collaborate with my father?” Brook asks.
“No, I don’t,” I answer.
“But your father does?”
Her insistence must have a point, so I bury the exasperation running through me.
“He may have earlier in life, but we don’t share much about our businesses with each other. What’s his is his and what’s mine is mine,” I say.
Skepticism shines clear in her eyes.
“And you don’t have any connections with my father?”
“No, I don’t,” I repeat.
She blows out a breath and relaxes, but her body begins to tremble.
“What did he do, little rabbit?” I ask.
“Sit down, Liam. I don’t need the first aid kit, but I do need off your lap,” she says.
She’s too fucking resilient. Despite the terror shaking her body, she has the audacity to make demands.
I flick my eyes between Mr. Brunswick and the couch opposite me before reaching for the buttons on Brook’s suit coat again.
She grabs my wrist but hisses at the movement. I meet and hold her stare until she sighs and loosens her grip.
“I just need some ice. You don’t have to undress me,” she says.
“Don’t fight me, Brook. I can’t stand to see you hurt.”
“I’m fi—”
“You’re not fine. Stop arguing and let me take care of you.”
Her breath hitches and eyes widen. With the single-minded determination I used to become a successful businessman, I ignore her delicate hands on my forearm and unbutton the front of her suit.
“What did your father do, little rabbit?” I ask.
She shakes her head but winces at the movement.
I lift her into a sitting position and push her suit coat off her shoulders.
“Tell me,” I demand as I work the fabric off her arms.
She stiffens when I wrap an arm around her and grab her thigh, ensuring she stays right where I put her, but huffs and leans against me when I begin unbuttoning her undershirt.
“He beat a man for being gay. That’s it. No big story to tell,” she says.
“Uh huh, sure. You walked in on the violence, didn’t you?” I ask.
Her lungs expand. She holds her breath. I do, too.
Each button freed reveals more soft, creamy flesh. Despite the tank top and bra keeping her modesty, her slim curves are pure sin and my hands itch to explore.
When she blows out her breath, my knuckles brush against her breast. I bite the inside of my mouth and deny myself.
“I did. It was horrible,” she says.
The simple words reveal more than if she were to break down into hysterics. She’s too resilient. Too strong.
Whatever she saw must have forced her to break from her father and stay away for almost a decade. Pride flows through me, even though I know her stubbornness is what makes her such a difficult patient to treat.
“What gave you the impression I was like your father?” I growl as I unbutton her cuffs.
She lifts bleak eyes to mine.
“You haven’t done much to prove you aren’t,” she says.
I pause before slipping the last button free.
“Explain,” I demand.
Despite the roughness in my voice, I pull her undershirt off with gentle reverence.
“He blacklisted me from studying law. You hired me as an assistant’s aide and don’t want me anywhere near the legal team.”
The accusation in her tone registers before her words do, but my voice disappears as I reveal the black and purple bruise covering her shoulder and upper arm. My mouth dries and my heart grows heavy as I strip the fabric off her forearm. The bruise extends past her elbow.
I wince when she shrugs. A glance at Mr. Brunswick sends him into motion. He opens the first aid kit, pulls out two tubes of ointment, and heads toward the door for ice from the kitchen.
“Is anything broken?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Bear with me, little rabbit. Let me know if it hurts.”
“It’s hurt all day. I’ll be fine,” she mumbles.
“I’m sorry, Brook. You hid it too well. When did this happen?”
“This morning right before I walked into the building. I tripped and caught myself on a car door.”
I stiffen.
“The entrance is a permanent no parking zone established by the New York City Department of Transportation. It’s against the law to park on the curb for any length of time. Even my car isn’t allowed,” I growl.
Her humorless chuckle shifts her ass in my lap.
“Tell that to Ms. Lynn,” she mumbles.
I rumble low in my throat as an idea forms. Goosebumps rise on Brook’s flesh as I brush my thumb back and forth over her bare wrist.
“You will,” I vow.
She quirks a brow.
Mr. Brunswick returns with a tray full of bagged ice, a bottle of ibuprofen, and several waters. I drop three medicine tablets onto her palm before twisting open a water bottle.
“Take this first,” I say.
She eyes the tablets before popping them into her mouth and reaching for the water. I nudge her hand away and tilt it to her lips as I cup the back of her head.
“I wasn’t blocking you from being a lawyer because of your father, Brook.
” I say as she swallows the medicine. I don’t give her a chance to argue, offering her sips of water as I speak.
“This is the first I’m hearing of him blacklisting you.
” She pushes at my forearm, but I silence her with a tilt of my wrist. “I saw you flirting with Mr. Johnson and was jealous. Nothing more.”
I enjoy her scowl as I pour another trickle of water through her lips, then set the drink on the table and grab the ointment.
“Then why did you appoint me as an assistant’s aide?” she asks.
“Because we need one and I want you close.”
She rolls her eyes. I pinch her chin, careful to avoid the small blister forming from the spilled coffee and command her attention.
“I need you close, little rabbit.”
“Right. Sure,” she deadpans.
I release her chin, squeeze burn cream onto my fingers, and dab the bubbled skin on her jaw, upper throat, and the back of her hand.
“I won’t stop you from practicing law,” I vow.
She gives me a skeptical look as I wipe my fingertips clean, but I let my promise hang in the air as I squeeze a line of arnica gel onto my hand.
Her sharp inhale pains me, but I gently smear the ointment over her bruise.
The warmth of her skin and lack of obsessive swelling assure me she’ll heal without a trip to the hospital, but I keep my touch as light as possible so as not to distract her from my next words.
“Your first act as my lawyer will be to file a lawsuit against Ms. Lynn.”
Delight brightens her expression, but she quirks a brow and shakes her head.
“Are you serious? According to her, you two are a thing,” she grumbles.
“We’re not,” I say.
“Really? Because she was very clear when she said you belong to her.”
Satisfaction bubbles within me at her frustration. I tease my fingertips down her forearm and rest my cheek on the top of her head.
“Is my little rabbit jealous? Don’t be. I’m all yours, Brook,” I murmur into her hair.
She leans away, slipping her head out from under me, and peers up into my soul.
“You belong to you, and I belong to me. I told you; once we signed the employment contract—”
I wrap my fingers around her head and cover her mouth with mine. She squeaks and pushes against my chest, but I sneak my tongue between her teeth and groan at her sweetness. Her fists close in my suit. I nip her lower lip, lick the sting away, and dive back into her mouth.
When her tongue responds with a tentative stroke against mine, I lose control and devour her with the hunger roaring through me. After a slight hesitation, she demands I give as much as I take, and I drown in her vicious perfection.
The intercom buzzes. I snarl and lift my head. Brook’s heaving breaths wash over my lips as I hold her face an inch from mine. I can’t force myself to put more distance between us.
Mr. Brunswick’s shoes click across the floor as he answers the intercom. I flex my fingers around her head, marveling at our size difference, and brush the pads of my thumbs over her temples as words spill from my swollen lips.
“I became yours the moment you hopped into my lap and nibbled on my throat. There’s no going back, little rabbit. I’m yours. Only yours.”
The truth behind my declaration rings through me.
When I declared her as mine earlier—was it only this morning?
—jealousy and bitterness fueled me, but after watching her navigate through so many firsts in a new workspace, I realize she isn’t the heartless bitch I made her out to be when she chose my brother over me.