Page 91 of He Should Be Mine

Then he drops to the floor, right in front of Riccardo.

My pulse thunders in my ears. My muscles freeze. My nostrils are flaring. The sight of Molly getting ready to blow Riccardo is a giant red flag and suddenly I’m a bull. I am nothing but incandescent rage and primal instinct.

Molly shifts on the polished floor to a cross-legged position. He picks up Riccardo’s foot, slips off his designer shoe, and starts giving him a foot massage.

Riccardo closes his eyes and lets out a little groan of relief.

I snatch my attention back to my cooking. I need to get my blood pressure under control before I have a stroke. Dying before all my plans come to fruition would be an awful way to hand Riccardo victory.

“Don’t ever trust anyone, Molly,” says Riccardo.

My heart gives a little skip. Sounds as if my plans are working. Everything is in motion. His life is beginning to fall apart and unravel. Riccardo is about to lose it all.

“Anything I can help with, Boss?” I say, because that is what old Dario would have said.

Riccardo lifts his head a little to look at me. I hold his gaze. I’m glad I have a damn good poker face. Even so, I can feel a trickle of sweat running down the back of my neck.

“Nah,” drawls Riccardo as he drops his head back down. “I have it all under control.”

I nod and turn the hob and extractor fan off. Lunch is ready, but it is going to have to wait. I doubt Riccardo is here for food.

“I’m going to my country house this weekend. Bring Molly up on Sunday,” he says with his eyes closed.

Molly keeps massaging his foot. He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t look at anyone. He just sits quietly and works.

“Yes, Boss,” I say.

This is excellent news. Riccardo is already rattled enough to retreat to his country house. My guess is he’ll be meeting with his most trusted men on Saturday. And the fact he wants me to bring Molly to him on Sunday, shows he still trusts me. He doesn’t suspect a thing. He has no idea that I am the puppet master, pulling all his strings.

Molly quietly picks up Riccardo’s other foot, slips the shoe off, and begins massaging it. Riccardo sighs.

I should leave. I should slink away to my room and leave Molly to his trade. Watching and glowering from the corner isn’t going to do anyone any good.

My feet refuse to move.

“Put on a show for me, Baby. Jerk off for daddy.”

Riccardo’s words are like a magic spell. They unlock my feet. I hurriedly step towards my room.

“No, stay.”

I freeze and slowly turn around. He can not be talking to me? Surely not?

Riccardo smirks at me. His green eyes are gleaming. He definitely appears to be talking to me.

“Why?” I ask, and I have no idea how my voice sounds so calm.

“Because I am telling you to and you are loyal to me, aren’t you?”

My heart pounds against the bones of my ribcage. Fuck. Does he suspect me, after all? Does he know something? Has he uncovered my plans or has he simply seen that I crave Molly and he wants to torment me?

I stare into his eyes.

His smirk grows wider.

No, he knows nothing. He thinks I’m going to find this disgusting. He thinks he is humiliating me by ordering me to stay. This is simply a way for him to be an asshole and to prove a point. He is the boss. I am beneath him. I have to do whatever he says.

My hands ache with the need to clench. I can’t wait to kill him. It is going to be so fucking satisfying.