His (A Bad Boy Mafia Romance)(22)

To make matters worse, the details of his rookie contract are plain to see for anyone who cares to look. $435,000 in his first year and $525,000 in his second year. Ronnie is taking on huge amounts of debt and the next logical question is, ‘where is the money coming from?’

The answer is the mafia underworld. This reporter saw...

It ends there. The article just leaves off right there. Fuck. I run my hands through my hair, taking a deep breath. She’s not just talking to her friends about what she saw, she’s writing a fuckin’ article to publish? She’s going to out me like that? There’s no telling if it will stick or sound like a crock of shit, but God knows the last thing I need is heat on my ass.

I jab Jimmy’s number in the cell.

“What’s she doing now?” I ask.

“She’s sitting at her desk with her head in her hands. It looks like she’s crying.”

Even when it looks like she’s about to sell me out, I don’t like hearing that she’s crying. I don’t like it at all. It makes me want to break whatever made her sad, but in this case, it’s my fault. I dragged her into my dark world and she’s trying to deal with it the only way she knows how. She probably thinks she’s doing the right thing, even. Maybe she is. I can’t let that stop me though. One way or another, she can’t publish that.

“She’s typing more,” says Jimmy.

“Okay,” I say, trying to stay calm. “Just tell me when she’s leaving. And whatever you do, don’t let her bring that story to any editors or whatever the fuck it is they do. No one else sees it. You do anything short of hurting her, okay? Don’t touch a fuckin’ hair on her head though or so help me—”

“I got it, I got it, boss. I’m not going to touch her. Don’t worry.”

I hang up again and slam the back of my head against the seat. Sitting here with my thumb up my ass is driving me crazy. I need to move, to get up. I get out of the car and pace around with my hands on my hips, ready to blow up if the smallest thing sets me off. I look toward the building. It’s a smallish skyscraper, maybe thirty floors, all reflective glass and concrete. What floor did Jimmy say she worked on? The fifteenth?

Fuck it.

I lock the car and jog up to the building. I look good in my suit, even if it’s a little worse for the wear after tossing it on the ground while I fucked Aubriella. I smooth my hair and open the door. I don’t look at the guard, ask anyone’s permission, or go wait in line at the reception desk like some schmuck. I walk to the elevator like I own the fuckin’ place and no one says a word to me.

I hit the button for her floor and wait. The cold steel of my piece is a comfortable weight inside my jacket. The elevator dings and I step into a room full of cubicles, copiers, printers, and harassed looking men and women in semi-casual wear. I move fluidly through the hallways between desks, looking for her. I spot Jimmy, whose eyes turn to fish-bowls when he spots me. He knows better than to say anything though, so he just sits back down by the water cooler and points. I nod to him and follow the direction of his finger until I see her.

Her eyes are puffy and red, but there’s a determined set to her face that tells me all I need to know. She’s going to do it.

I let myself into her cubicle and sit in the open chair beside her. She turns to me and then her mouth drops open.

“Y-you…” she says. Suddenly she seems to realize what is open on her computer and she minimizes the document.

“What’s that you’re working on?” I ask. I planned to come up here and reason with her, to make her comfortable and feel safe. I wanted to assure her that I’d make sure she was protected no matter what. Seeing her try to hide something from me makes me see red though.

She shakes her head. “Just a mock draft for next year.” She swallows hard. I see beads of sweat forming on her brow.

She’s lying to me now? My hands itch to take my belt free right now and teach her why she should never, ever fuckin’ lie to me. But I hold my temper. For now. “Doll, you need to come clean, and fast. I’m the only one who can keep you safe in all of this, and if you don’t start trusting me, even I won’t be able to help you.”

The color drains from her face but she still looks stubbornly determined. “You could be lying.” She lowers her voice. “I think you’d just say whatever it takes to fuck me. Why should I believe a thing you say?”

I’m surprised at how deeply her words cut me. Is that really what she thinks? I just want to fuck her and that I don’t give a shit about her? I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, because that’s exactly how it was with all the girls before her, but she’s different. She’s got the balls to stand up to me. And the things she lets me do to her behind closed doors…no woman has ever let me do those things and enjoyed them. Just thinking about it is making my cock hard. I pull her close to me and kiss her hard. She stiffens at first, but then her body softens around me, like she’s melting into me. She moans softly into my mouth and I cup her tit.