Total pages in book: 58
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 56378 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 282(@200wpm)___ 226(@250wpm)___ 188(@300wpm)
Me: The meeting’s at seven. I’ll pick you up an hour before. We need to account for traffic.
Arriana: I guess we don’t want to keep His Highness waiting, do we?
Me: Arria.
I drum my fingers on the desk some more. The smirk tugging at my lips is pretty damn annoying. This would be much easier if I didn’t respect her fiery nature so much.
Me: Please don’t say or even hint at anything like that in front of him. This has to go well.
Arriana: I know. But that doesn’t mean it’s going to be easy.
Me: Maybe not. The right thing rarely is.
Arriana: So you’re my savior AND a philosopher, huh?
Another smirk. Maybe I should start counting.
Me: Stop with the sass. Just be ready.
Arriana: What should I wear?
Her question sends a surge of lust thundering through me. My balls ache, my shaft going stiff. My heart feels like it might break out of my chest. Obviously, she’s talking about making the best impression, but I let my imagination go wild. I imagine telling her to wear some shorts to show off her thick thighs and a floaty top without a bra to show off her curvy mounds. No makeup to show the natural, youthful beauty of her face. Keep her hair messy and wild.
Me: Smart casual. We don’t want to look like we’re making TOO much of an effort. But wear nothing that could give him a reason to make crude comments.
Arriana: Ah, okay, I was going to wear a miniskirt with fishnet stockings. I’ll pick something else, then. More laughing emojis.
She might have said it as a joke, but her comment puts the image into my mind. I imagine her rocking up in that getup. The fishnets squeezing tight onto her thighs, making her natural shape even more apparent. I stand up, go to the window, and squeeze my hands into fists. The thought of my niece is giving me a hard-on. I’m getting rock-solid. I’m salivating like an animal.
If I turned around and she was sitting on my desk, I don’t know if I’d be able to hold myself back. I’m getting that worked up just thinking about her.
I wait outside the Romano residence. If I go inside, I can greet her parents. I probably should do that, but I’ve never been close to my wife’s sister or brother-in-law. Plus, I don’t want to look them in the eye, considering the thoughts I’ve been having about their daughter. The sooner this mess is over, the better. I need her out of my life before I do something I’ll regret.
Arriana: Running a few minutes late. Do you want to wait inside?
Me: I’m parked down the street. I’ll wait here.
Arriana: Okay… are you as excited as I am? Eye roll emoji.
Me: I’m keen to get this finished. The last thing you need is Enzo Caruso nursing a vendetta against you.
Arriana: I’m getting really nervous. I even typed out a message telling you I was going to back out. But I can’t do that, can I? I honestly think I would if he didn’t have Lilly’s address. That’s how I’m going to think of this. I’m doing it for her. It’s the only way I’m going to get through it.
Me: It’s good to have a reason. Don’t keep me waiting too long.
Closing my eyes, I take some slow breaths. I used to do this before an enforcing job back in the day. I’d center myself, almost disconnect, so that I could do whatever needed to be done. Now, I’m going to need that same sense of calm. Being alone in a car with Arria will be difficult, even if it shouldn’t be.
Finally, she walks down the street, wearing a black winter jacket with an earth-colored scarf. She looks smart, presentable, and, yep, beautiful. I reach over and open the door for her.
She climbs in, smiles at me briefly, then immediately looks away. I wonder if I’m imagining the awkwardness. She’s probably just nervous about what we have to do, which is understandable. I shouldn’t even notice or care beyond getting her out of this situation.
“Are you ready?” I ask.
She clasps her hands together in her lap. “Yep. Let’s just get this over with. I’m going to be the sweetest, most apologetic person you’ve ever seen. After this, I’m going to put myself up for an Oscar. My performance will be so good.”
I laugh. “That’s the spirit.”
“It’s not funny, Nico.”
“Fair enough.”
I drive, achingly aware of the scent of her perfume. She smooths her hands up and down her legs nervously. My savage brain goes into overdrive, imagining what it’d be like to move my hands up and down her legs like that. It’s wrong. I’m wrong. I can’t seem to control where my mind goes with her.
She glances at me several times during the awkward, quiet journey. It’s like there’s something she wants to say. She chews her lip—with no idea how sensual it makes her look to me.