Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36839 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 184(@200wpm)___ 147(@250wpm)___ 123(@300wpm)
God, what am I doing?
Chapter Seven
Diego
"You cooked me dinner?" Athena eyes me skeptically, expression screwed up like she's waiting for the punchline.
"I did. Come." I hold out my hand to her.
She hesitates for a moment before curiosity wins over suspicion. Her hand lands in mine. I twine our fingers together, leading her toward the small table on the far side of the kitchen. It doesn't get much use. Neither does the kitchen, for that matter. I'm rarely here long enough to eat a meal at home, let alone cook one.
But I made an exception for her.
I seem to be making a lot of those for her.
"Why is there only one chair?" she asks, drawing to a stop.
Ah, so she noticed.
"I only have one for you." I tug her arm to get her moving.
She digs in her heels, refusing. "You are so full of it, Diego Butera. You don't live in a place like this and only have one chair."
"You misunderstand. I own many chairs, but I only have one for you, bella." I tug her arm again, unbalancing her so she has no choice but to move with me. Once we reach the table, I pull the chair out and sit before crooking a finger at her. "Come. Sit."
She gapes at me, her gorgeous mouth open in a little "O" of surprise. "You are not serious."
"You're mine for the next twenty-four hours, goddess. That means I make the rules." I point at my lap. "Claim your throne."
"You are such a pain in my…"
"No insulting me unless you want to see how that works out for you."
She snaps her mouth closed, stomping toward me.
I chuckle quietly, lifting her off her feet onto my lap. She sits rigidly, her back ramrod straight. Her ass nestles against my cock, and I have to fight a groan. Christ, the hard bastard refuses to relent.
"Relax, bella. I don't bite." I press my lips to her ear. "Not unless you want me to."
"Diego, dammit." She tenses like she's going to jump off my lap.
I hook an arm around her waist, anchoring her in place. "I'm kidding, Athena. Relax."
"Easy for you to say." She squirms around. "Can you take your phone out of your pocket? It's poking me in the…" Her teeth actually click together when she realizes it's not my phone poking her.
"He's like this because of you." I brush my lips against the shell of her ear. "Watching you come for me today drove me crazy."
"Diego," she whispers, squirming again. "Please."
"Please what?"
"Can we please just eat dinner?" she pleads quietly.
I take mercy on her for the moment and reach for the covered plate, dragging it closer. "I hope you like alfredo, bella." Her stomach growls when I remove the cover with a flourish, making me chuckle. "I'll take that as a yes."
"I haven't eaten all day."
My lips pull down into a frown. "Why not?"
"Gee, I wonder?" she says sarcastically. "First, a member of the mafia shows up at my office and flirts with me in front of everyone, and then he does inappropriate things to me in the interview room. And then he convinces me to spend twenty-four hours with him. And then my boss came to chat about why said member of the mafia was at the office. And then I had to follow up on the information said member of the mafia gave me." She blows out a breath, running out of steam. "It's been a busy day."
"Who's your boss?" I ask, reaching for the fork to spear a piece of chicken for her.
"Dennis Respert."
The name is vaguely familiar, but I don't know him. I make a note to remedy that immediately. If he's over Athena, I want to know everything there is to know about him. Just in case I need to deal with him the same way I need to deal with James Tackett.
"Do you like him?" I ask, bringing the fork to her lips.
She leans forward, wrapping them around the tines.
My dick pulses again. There's something…deeply satisfying about watching this woman eat, knowing it's food I prepared and am feeding her with my own hands. I like it. Perhaps we'll eat this way every night, with her in my lap, feeding her from my hand.
Her eyes widen in surprise as she chews the chicken. "It's good," she says.
I chuckle quietly. "Don't sound so surprised, bella. I haven't survived this long being unable to care for myself."
"Sorry." She swallows. "I didn't mean it like that."
"I know. I'm only teasing. Do you like your boss?"
Her nose twitches with irritation. "He's fine," she lies.
"You're still a shit liar."
She rolls her eyes at me. "He's fine, Diego. He just doesn't like me much."
"Why not?"
"Patriarchy? Misogyny? Because he was born in the wrong decade?" She shrugs. "I don't know. He's pissed that I'm taking a spot that a good male field agent could be filling. As far as he's concerned, I should be behind a desk, fielding phone calls. I'm too young, too female, and too small to be a real FBI agent."