Total pages in book: 152
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 144979 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 725(@200wpm)___ 580(@250wpm)___ 483(@300wpm)
That spark of irritation is turning into a full-burning flame now. She won’t even look at me, so I guess this is her new pretend-you-don’t-exist game.
Angelo turns, surprising me when he presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll see you this afternoon.”
It’s not quite what I want from him, but it still feels like it means something. Or maybe it’s just that I want it to.
After a nod from me, he takes his leave with Genevieve. I watch them go, and when she turns to shut the door to his office, she gives me an evil little smirk.
I make a split-second decision then and there, glancing at my phone to check the time. Then I call IVI headquarters.
I spend the first half of my day on a client consultation, a virtual closet audit, a fitting session, and some research. The annual Society masquerade ball is coming up, and I’m about to get slammed with appointments. I block out the rest of my afternoon to curate some lookbooks and moodboards. I’ll also need to screen a few interns to help with the busiest part of the season.
When the alarm on my phone goes off, signaling I have thirty minutes until my plan is executed, I call Thomas in security and give him my instructions. He confirms and disconnects the call without further question.
Steeling myself with a breath, I walk down the hall to my husband’s office. Unsurprisingly, Genevieve bolts up from her desk just as I’m about to open Angelo’s door.
“You can’t go in there.” She glares. “He’s on a call.”
“Pack your things, Genevieve.” I smile sweetly. “You’re fired.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “You can’t fire me.”
“Oh, but I can, and I just did,” I tell her. “In case you forgot, I’m Mrs. Vitale—and I’m done with your bullshit.”
“I’m going to take this up with Angelo,” she huffs.
“That’s fine. You can take it up with Jesus, too, if you want. It still won’t change the outcome.”
Her face mottles with red as I dismiss her and slip into Angelo’s office, locking the door behind me. Almost immediately, she starts knocking, calling out for him.
He arches a brow at me as he glances up from his desk, phone to his ear. While he’s busy, I let my eyes roam over him. Today, he’s wearing a jet-black Italian wool suit with a sharp, modern cut. His dress shirt, tie, and cufflinks are all black, too.
Il Diavolo vestito di nero.
The Devil dressed in black.
While Genevieve has a meltdown on the other side of the door, I walk around his desk and pull up my skirt. Angelo’s eyes flash with heat as they rake over my thigh-high stockings.
Using his desk for support, I step between his legs. Because he’s so much larger than I am, I have to climb on top of him like I’m scaling a mountain. It’s probably not the sexiest thing he’s ever seen, but when I straddle him and sit down in his lap, he doesn't object.
He says something absently to the voice on the other line as his palm skates up my thigh to cup my bare ass. I close my eyes and grind down on his cock before I slip my fingers between my thighs and unsnap my bodysuit.
Angelo grips a handful of my ass roughly, ending his call. “I have something that requires my attention.”
He tosses the phone onto his desk and grabs me by the hips. “Did you block out some time on your schedule to get fucked in my office, cara?”
“Yes.” I drag my bottom lip between my teeth.
“Why is my assistant having a fit?” he asks.
“Because I fixed the problem.”
He gives me a curious glance but doesn’t question me further as his hands roam over my rib cage. When he palms my breasts, I arch into him, but as I do, he glares at my cleavage.
“Have you been walking around the office like this?” he growls.
I glance down at the black bodysuit and matching skirt. It’s a soft, comfortable outfit, but Angelo didn’t see what I was wearing beneath my fuzzy sweater this morning when we left the house.
“What’s wrong with it?”
His eyes move over the swell of my breasts. “If I see another man staring at these, I’m going to cut his eyes out.”
A shiver rolls down my spine as I remember the guard at the resort. It isn’t an empty threat. But there’s something so addictive about Angelo’s possession—and right now, I really want to be possessed by him.
“Nobody’s going to look,” I tell him. “I belong to you.”
I regret the words when darkness pools in his eyes. He hasn’t forgiven me, and I doubt he’ll ever trust me again. But instead of acknowledging that, he grabs a fistful of my hair and tilts my head back. He presses his lips against my throat, biting his way down to my chest. When he tugs the top of the bodysuit down, my breasts spill free, and then his mouth is on them.