The elevator doors slid open and Sandro stepped in, holding up a black case. “Morning, boss. Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” he said, his eyes sliding past me to Gianna. Despite his mess up six months ago, he was still a good soldier. The best one next to Romero.
“You didn’t,” I said with a grin at Gianna, who’s eyes narrowed even further. It was a good thing that Sandro didn’t look anywhere near my crotch area because there was no way I could have hidden the bulge. Not that I fucking cared. “Let’s do this now,” I said eventually.
Gianna crossed her arms over her chest, somehow managing to push her breasts up in a delicious way. Was she doing it on purpose? She didn’t move as we walked toward her. She looked like she couldn’t care less but I knew her better than that. She was probably trying to figure out a way to make me pay for teasing her, not to mention for the ankle bracelet. But she’d brought this upon herself.
Sandro watched Gianna suspiciously as we stopped beside her. I couldn’t blame him. His pride had taken quite a bruising when she and Aria had drugged him and tied him up. He was too clever to show his dislike though.
I pointed toward the barstool. “You need to take off your tights and sit down.”
“Thanks for the heads up. You could have mentioned the tights thing before and spared me a whole lot of trouble,” she muttered. Fuck, her glare made me want to bend her over the kitchen counter and fuck her brains out.
Sandro pretended he was busy with the ankle bracelet in the case as I leaned close to Gianna. “But I loved watching you put on your sexy tights, and I’ll love watching you take them off again.”
Gianna almost tore her tights down this time before she perched on the stool, her long lean legs crossed. She pressed her lips together in anger, then flinched from pain. Fury for her father burst through my rising lust. Damn, Luca, and his determination to keep peace with the Outfit.
Sandro hesitated, ankle bracelet in hand, and darted an inquiring look my way.
I’d never put an ankle bracelet on anyone, so even if I fucking hated the thought of Sandro touching Gianna’s leg, it was the logical choice. I nodded. “Go on.”
“Extend your left leg.”
Gianna sent me a scathing look but she raised her leg without protest. Maybe she’d decided it was the better option than being locked into the apartment all the time, or maybe she was coming up with torturous things to do to me as retribution. I had a feeling I might enjoy whatever she had in mind, even if that wasn’t her intention.
Sandro bent over Gianna’s leg and started fastening the small black monitor around her ankle. I leaned against the kitchen bar next to Gianna. She didn’t glance my way.
“Will this monitor my alcohol intake as well?” she asked Sandro. He raised his eyes to her, then me.
“I don’t care if you’re getting drunk as long as you do it in New York,” I said. Her blue eyes fixed me with another scowl before she turned back to Sandro, who was checking the bracelet for its functionality.
With a nod, he straightened. “All done. You can trace her with your laptop, phone or any other internet-ready device.”
“Great,” Gianna muttered.
“Thanks, Sandro.”
“Do you need anything else?”
I shook my head. “Not today. Romero is upstairs. You can return to your other tasks.”
Sandro gave Gianna a curt nod before he turned around and headed for the elevator. After I’d let him out, I returned to Gianna.
“So how long am I going to have to wear this thing?” she asked, lifting her leg to take a closer look at the small black device around her ankle. I hated seeing her with that thing. It seemed wrong to shackle her like that, but Luca had suggested the bracelet and it was a neat solution. Gianna was too volatile for her own good.
“Until I decide I can trust you enough not to do something stupid.”
“So forever.” She dropped her leg back down.
I chuckled. “No. I like your gorgeous legs better without the ankle monitor, believe me. I’ll relieve you of that thing as soon as possible.” I traced my fingers over her bare knee, then higher until I reached the edge of her jeans skirt. She swatted my hand away and hopped off the barstool.
“Hands off,” she said sweetly.
I raised my eyebrows. “I thought you wanted to continue where we left off before?” I really wanted to fucking continue where we left off.
She walked past me toward the coffee maker, swaying her hips in a way that turned me hard again. “I’m good,” she said with a shrug. “All I need is a cup of coffee.” She grabbed a new cup and put it under the coffee maker before peering over her shoulder at me. “What about you? Is there anything you need?” Her eyes wandered down my body toward my hard-on. I could tell that she was fighting a smile.