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I’ll show him.

Chapter 11

Tristano

I hate the smell of take-out in my car. Drives me nuts. At least this broad didn’t ask for fried fish or something awful.

My BMW purrs at a red light on the way back to my house, sun setting in the distance. Tonight’s going to be a big deal, actually. I’ve never been tethered to someone during work hours before. Not for more than a night, anyway. Parading her around my clubs is going to be a tough sell because of it. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll be good at bullshitting with my crew, and it’ll be a pretty big distraction since I plan on making capo this year.

Have to make do… for Pop.

We have about an hour until it’s go time. Got three pick-ups to make at Star Dust, and some directions to give to my boys, then it’s off to the next. She’ll be safe under my care. Three armed bodyguards patrol the place at all times. Unless there’s an all-out war, we’re good.

I pull up to my place and slam the door shut with our pasta bag dangling off my finger. Hope she didn’t tear up the couch or anything like a bad poodle. I scoff to myself as I open the door, then shut it with a triple lock behind me.

“Capri,food. We have a long night. Let’s g—”

I drop the bag.

Holy… shit.

She struts out over the second-floor balcony, clacking her clear stripper heels one extra time to get my attention. She’s got it, alright. Long tanned legs go on for miles, leading all the way up to her pink string bikini bottom. There’s a savory pussy under there that I want to explore more than ever.

Flat stomach, full enough tits.Jesus, she even straightened her hair and has a bitchy expression to match. Good girl gonebad.What the fuck?I was gone for five fuckin’ minutes. That makeup, long eye wings, or whatever they call them. She looks like an Egyptian goddess, Italian-style.

My face is frozen in shock, but my cock seems to be moving around just fine. I have a chub just by looking at her.

“I take it Daddy approves?”

My heart stalls at that. If I was taking a drink, I would’ve sprayed it out.

Maybe I have a roleplaying fetish, or maybe I just like my women bitchy and near-naked at all times. Whatever it is…this… is working for me.

I have to have her.

She makes her way toward the stairs, not looking at her feet, not showing an ounce of insecurity. I’m shocked, truly. Who is this woman, and what did she do with the emotional bug I left here?

Every time she descends a step, her tits jiggle, theclackof her heels snapping like whips to hold my attention. I’m trying to act cool, but dropping our dinner already blew my cover. She’s sassy about it too. This was her damn goal, to rough me up, to break me.

Shit.

She struts up to me, and I do my best to hold her gaze. It’s tough, to be honest. Her normal outfits leave some for the imagination. Butthis?She’s on fucking fire. My periphery gives my mind a fine show as I struggle to focus on those crystal blue eyes. Her body is ten out of ten in my book. Being a prissy lawyer turned bad makes it that much hotter for some reason. Like a fallen angel, or something.

Tension builds the closer she gets. My pants blow up like a bag of microwave popcorn.

Here she comes.

Usually when someone dressed likethatgets this close, it’s accompanied by a cock-grab and an ask for a dance. But she just stands there with a slight head tilt – not at all breaking character.

I think of reliving our moment in her neighbor’s backyard. Maybe she is too.

She pretends to bite one of her nails, eyeing me up and down while swaying slowly back and forth. Now what the hell is she doing, parading around me?

Hearing the scrunch of our dinner bag at my back makes me furrow my brow, then I scoff when I see her strutting to the dining room table with it.

Bitch. She’s toying with me.

The way her perfect bubbly ass sways as she walks is the final straw. I march up to her and swipe the bag from her hand.