Page 33 of Steal My Heart

“The problem with that offer, Remi, is that you have no bargaining leverage.”

“Oh, I think I do,” I inform him.

Understanding washes over his handsome face, and he drops his hands and searches his coat pockets for his missing phone.

“I’ll give it back, but only if you tell me a secret. What’s tattooed on your chest? And not just the translation, but the meaning behind it.”

“I’ll tell you, but only if you tell me how you came into ‘possession’ of Sienna D’Amico’s cat,” he counters.

Chapter Ten

Angelo

“This is why I didn’t want a vet involved!” Remi stops her foot. “Nola’s mine, and I don’t care what any microchip says.”

“A secret for a secret. Do we have a deal?” I could force her to tell me, but our little back and forth is so much more enjoyable.

“Show me yours, and I’ll show you mine,” she retorts.

My hands move to my belt buckle.

“Wait, I didn’t mean that literally!” Remi’s eyes go wide. “And not in front of Nola!”

“Nola, would you mind if I had a moment alone with your human?” I open the door.

Remi snorts a laugh. “Good luck getting her to listen.”

Nola stretches lazily before sauntering out of the room.

Watching the range of emotions playing out on Remi’s face—from shocked to disgruntled—I grab the intercom phone and call Maks. “Assicurati che Nola non esca. E voglio che la piscina sia a prova di gatto.”

“Sì, capo, ma non so cosa significhi una piscina a prova di gatto.”

“Nemmeno io!”

Hanging up the phone, my fingers return to unfasten my belt. Remi goes to protest, but I cut her off. “If you don’t mind, I’d prefer to continue our discussion in dry clothes.” She follows my gaze to the couch, where a towel and a stack of clothes are neatly folded.

Her cheeks flush a lovely shade of pink as she turns around to give me privacy.

Peeling off my wet pants and boxers, my cock is keenly interested in what might happen next. In this game with Remi Landry, who the fuck knows.

Giving my body a quick rubdown with the towel, I ignore my cock as I step into a pair of dry boxers and jeans. Buttoning the top button, I yank the tee over my head and tell Remi, “You may turn around now.”

She does so, and I take great satisfaction in her surprised look. “You think I only wear a suit?”

“I figured you were born wearing a tailored suit and a scowl; like the one you’re giving me at this moment, actually,” she says with laughter in her eyes.

“Tell me how you came into possession of Nola.”

“Tell me the meaning of your tattoo,” she counters.

Remi

“Ladies first,” he says, his voice full of tempting promise.

How is my brain supposed to function with Angelo Calvani being so disarming in a T-shirt and jeans? In the suit and tie, the man’s formidable, but dressed casually, he’s not quite so intimidating. Which makes him even more dangerous, like a cobra lulling you into a false sense of security before it strikes.

“The hard way or the easy way.” The threat hangs heavily.