Page 31 of Her Guardian (Morandi Syndicate #2)

B oyd

The meeting might as well be a text message.

It’s short and to the point, at least. We don’t have any new leads.

The only reason Dante asked Sarah to come is because he hoped she might have something to add, but she doesn’t.

She already came up with a damn good plan.

One better than we had. But it doesn’t work when the Mafia Prince Killer is sitting on his ass.

“Crews will get back out on the streets,” Dante says as he wraps up the meeting. “Leadership will resume normal operations, for now. But stay close. Nobody leaves Las Vegas.”

“Understood,” a few voices ring out.

I nod and stand up, stretching my back and offering a hand to Sarah. She takes it, and I help her get up.

“So, resume normal operations?” she asks, some apprehension in her tone. “What does that mean, exactly?”

“Means everyone goes back to doing what they normally do every day,” I grunt, walking toward the exit with her next to me. “There’s still business to take care of. Las Vegas doesn’t run itself. But when this fucker trips one of those sensors, we’ll go after him.”

“What does that mean for you? Do I get to see what a normal day looks like for Big Boyd?” Her tone simmers with excitement, like it does when she’s delivering some new piece of information to her podcast audience.

“You want to?” I shrug my shoulders. “Sure, but we’ll do that tomorrow. Something I need to do today.”

“Does that mean I have to go back to my room?” she asks, the excitement dissipating.

“No, this actually involves you,” I reply, leaning closer and lowering my voice. “I believe I promised to replace a couple of bras after I ripped them off you.”

“You did!” she chirps happily, excitement in her tone and her eyes. “I didn’t think you’d remember, though.”

“You could use some more underwear too,” I continue, winking at her and lighting a cigarette once we’re outside.

“You can get your clothes washed at the hotel, but who knows, you might be here a while. Maybe we should get you a few more things to wear. I assume you’re not going back to Pine Grove until we catch this fucker. Considering how important it is.”

She pauses and looks down. She nibbles the inside of her mouth for a moment before lifting her head. “No, if the Mafia Prince Killer is in Las Vegas, I’m staying.”

“We’ll pretend that’s the only reason,” I smirk, opening the door for her. I smack her ass when she climbs up. “Even though we both know you’re mine now.”

I slam the door before she can reply. She knows it. So do I. I’m not going to take her freedom away. No reason to clip beautiful wings like the ones she has. Maybe they could use a light trim. We’ll figure it out.

Sarah has already filled the SUV with the scent of strawberries and cream by the time I open my door. I take a drag from my cigarette and toss it before I get in.

“Are you going to dress me up like a doll, Big Boyd?” Sarah asks, tilting her head. “I’m not going to be a showgirl or Las Vegas pretty, even if you put me in a dress.”

“The fuck are you talking about?” I look over at her as I crank up the SUV. “You can pick everything out. As long as you model it for me. And yes, I’m talking about the underwear, too.”

“I don’t think they let you try that stuff on at the store,” she laughs.

“And whatever Las Vegas pretty is, I like Sarah pretty , so just stick with that,” I rumble, flashing her a scowl before I pull out of the parking lot.

My eyes linger long enough to see her blush before I have to look back at the road.

“I even liked it when you had those purple highlights in your hair.”

“Oh, wow!” She leans against the seat and her laughter rings out. “Yeah, that was temporary. Washed out in less than a week. You really were paying attention to me every time I was in Las Vegas.”

“Not much of a liar,” I say. “Already told you that. But apparently, I wasn’t paying close enough attention. Should have followed you everywhere you went.”

“You would not be good at following someone,” she laughs. “If they didn’t see you, they’d hear you.”

“Yeah, I’m not really the stalking type. Kick in the door, then figure the rest of it out.” I shrug. “It works most of the time.”

“Except you’ve got some scars that I’m pretty sure are from bullets,” she says.

“Yeah,” I confirm, nodding. “Takes more than one to slow me down.”

“Still better to avoid them.” She nibbles the inside of her mouth, a look of worry darkening her eyes.

“Don’t worry. Outside of that fucking serial killer, things are pretty peaceful in Las Vegas these days. And tomorrow, you’ll see that I’m rarely in danger of getting shot at,” I chuckle.

I turn into a luxury shopping pavilion, one a little pricier than most tourists can afford. Most of the stores are boutiques. But more important, they’re all owned by someone close to the Morandi family. They’ll take good care of us.

“I can’t even pronounce the name of this store,” Sarah says, glancing up at the sign as I park.

“Me either,” I shrug, getting out of the vehicle.

Sarah waits for me to open her door, and I help her down.

She takes a puff of her vape before putting it away and looking around the pavilion.

“Yeah, I can’t afford to shop at any of these stores, Boyd.

There’s a freaking Christian Louboutin store over there!

And a Prada. Gucci. Another one I can’t pronounce. ”

“Good thing I’m buying then.” I take her hand, and she comes with me to the front of the boutique, then I smack her ass. “But I think you already knew that.”

“I mean, I assumed,” she laughs, rubbing her bottom and glaring at me. “But you’re not buying me anything expensive. Seriously. I got the bras you ripped off me from the clearance rack at a department store.”

I sigh and open the door. “Get your ass in there. If you even look at a price tag, you’re getting spanked in the dressing room.”

She flashes an apprehensive glance as she walks past me, like she isn’t sure if I mean it. I do. But I think she’s smart enough to figure that out. I watch her closely and smile when I notice her examine a few things without looking at the price tags.

“Hello, welcome to La’Quicin’s,” a young woman says as she walks up to us. “Anything I can help you find today?”

“She needs bras and panties,” I say, motioning to Sarah as I remove a black card from my wallet and offer it to the young woman. “Put everything on this.”

“Oh!” she says, her eyes lighting up as her smile widens.

She takes the card gingerly, her fingers shaking a little.

She must be new. “Morandi family, understood. Please, right this way. I’ll get you set up with your own private dressing room, all our catalogs, and if we don’t have it in the store, we can have it delivered to you by tomorrow. ”

“Got stuff she can try on?” I ask.

“Absolutely, yes. She can try on everything, whether you buy it or not,” the young woman says as she leads us into the back part of the boutique.

“Wait, even underwear and stuff?” Sarah’s eyebrows shoot up and her nose wrinkles. “Does everyone get to try them on?”

“Of course not,” the young woman replies, almost letting a laugh slip out. “We don’t sell anything that has already been tried on.”

“Then what do you do with what we don’t buy?” Sarah looks back at me in confusion.

“Stop asking questions, little girl,” I growl, slapping her ass. “Just try on some damn underwear.”

The young woman blushes more than Sarah, then she hurries ahead and opens the door. It’s not just a dressing room; it’s got a couch, chair, mirrors, and even a bottle of champagne on ice.

“Let me open this for you,” the young woman says, pulling the champagne out of the ice. “Unless you’d rather have wine or something stronger?”

“Got any scotch?” I ask, half-joking, half-serious.

“Of course! I’ll get that for you.” She turns to Sarah, still holding the champagne. “Should I open this for you, or…”

“Um, no,” Sarah says, looking around like she’s a little overwhelmed. “Just a water for me.”

“Right away!” The young woman hurries out the door, and I plop down on the couch.

“Grab a catalog and find some stuff to model for me,” I grin, putting my arms across the back. “Pick out a lot.”

“Two bras, Boyd.” Sarah picks up a catalog and flips through it. “I feel like I’m at one of those places rich people shop at on reality shows.”

“I’m sure plenty have come here,” I grunt. “I’m setting a five bra, five panty minimum. I’m getting a show, damn it.”

“Fine,” she relents, flipping the page. “But you’d find a better one at any stage on the strip. I can barely dance.”

“Oh, I don’t need to see you dance,” I chuckle.

The young woman arrives with a glass of scotch for me. Good scotch. Sarah gets a bottle of water the woman pours over ice, leaving the bottle next to the glass.

I sip my scotch, then grab a catalog and start flipping through it while Sarah does the same.

The young woman waits patiently. Sarah takes her time, but there are no prices in the catalogs, so at least she doesn’t have that to distract her.

After she has five pairs of panties and five bras written down, she gives the card to the young woman.

“I’ll try these on, if you have them,” Sarah says.

“Let’s see… your size, yes. I think we’ve got everything in stock,” the woman says as she scans the card.

She leaves the dressing room and Sarah flashes me a nervous look. She’s never modeled underwear for anyone before.

“Nervous?” I ask, even though I can see it in her eyes.

“A little,” she admits.

“Would you be nervous if you were giving me a show in your hotel room?” I ask, unable to hide my grin.

“Probably.” Her face turns a little red. “Less nervous, though.”

“Just pretend it’s the two of us,” I say. “It will be, once she brings everything back.”

“Do all of the guys in the Morandi family bring their girlfriends here?” she asks, tilting her head inquisitively. “Make them model underwear?”

“Some do,” I answer. “I never have.”

“No? Not even the showgirl?” she asks.

“Told you that wasn’t serious,” I mutter, shaking my head. “But you’re mine. Every inch of that gorgeous body, regardless of what you’re wearing.”

Sarah blushes again and sips her water. I take a few drinks of scotch and there’s silence until the saleswoman returns with the merchandise. She places everything neatly on a table in front of the mirror.

“Anything else you need?” she asks, looking at me, then Sarah.

“Some privacy, that’s all,” I say. “We’ll let you know when we need you again.”

The woman leaves the room, and I get up, locking the door behind her. Now we’re completely alone, and nobody will disturb us until we ask them to. I turn toward Sarah and smile, glancing over at the selection.

“Alright, Sarah,” I say, walking back to the couch. “Make this the best money I’ll ever spend.”

“That’s a lot of pressure,” she sighs, reaching down and peeling her t-shirt off.

“No pressure at all,” I say, getting comfortable once her shirt comes off. “You’re already doing great.”

I watch closely as she strips to her bra and panties. When those come off, I have to fight the urge not to pull her into my lap and forget all about the underwear she’s supposed to model. My dick throbs to attention and pushes against my pants, but I do my best to ignore it. For now.

“I-I tried to match the bras and panties,” Sarah says, turning toward the items on the table and giving me a perfect view of her ass. “So, I’ll try them on at the same time. If that’s okay.”

“That’s perfectly fine,” I smile. “You can just stand there naked all day and I won’t complain.”

“Not much of a show,” she sighs.

“Best show I’ll ever see,” I chuckle.

“I’m really not used to being complimented like this,” she says, reaching for the first pair of panties and leaning down to put them on.

“Then you’ll just have to get used to it,” I rumble, letting out a light gasp when I catch a glimpse of her pussy. “Because I mean every word I say.”

Sarah pulls the panties around her hips and slips on the matching bra before turning around. It takes my breath away for a second and she flashes me a worried look.

“Do you not like them?” she asks apprehensively. “I can pick a different style.”

“Oh, no, you look fucking perfect,” I mutter. “Absolutely ravishing.”

“Really?” she asks, flashing me a slight smile. “You think so?”

“I’m not much of a liar, Sarah,” I say again, leaning forward. “If I didn’t like them, I’d tell you.”

“Okay, then I guess I’ll get these,” she says with that adorable tilt of her head as she turns back around.

Her confidence is growing. I like that. She doesn’t look nearly as shy or concerned when she turns around wearing the next set of underwear.

Like the first, it gets a glowing stamp of approval from me.

Mostly because I can tell she likes them.

They fit her curves perfectly—much better than what she got from the clearance rack.

“These too, I guess?’ she asks, walking closer to me and spinning so I can see everything.

“Absolutely,” I confirm, resisting the urge to touch her.

She grins, turns, and walks back to the table.

I don’t think I’m going to be able to resist touching her much longer.