Page 37 of Villainous Kingpin

Like sin, whiskey, and bad decisions. Like a man that wanted me for me. Not the figure skater. Not the athlete. Not the woman that broke records. Justme.

I had never wanted to ditch my regimented schedule as badly as I did right now.

“I missed you too,” I murmured against his neck, his strong pulse vibrating straight to my core. His hand wrapped around my waist and pulled me against him.

“Good,” he rasped, his voice deep. “I want you to miss me so much, you’ll never leave.”

CHAPTER14

Basilio

Fuck me.She was gorgeous when she danced.

I couldn’t peel my eyes away from her form. Despite her petite frame, she was fucking strong. I witnessed it firsthand as I watched her jumps and landings.

For the past hour, I watched her dance with a determined look on her face. She and her dance partner kept repeating the same stunt over and over again. It didn’t strike me as a ballet type of move but what the fuck did I know. I didn’t watch ballet. All I knew was that she looked stunning. Absolutely beautiful.

I caught her rolling her shoulders a few times as her French instructor kept barking shit at her. I had to fight the urge to go and shut the woman up. Whatever she was saying to Wynter, it wasn’t good because I could practically taste Wynter’s tension.

“Again,” Madame Sylvie barked in her thick accent. Wynter’s skin glistened with a layer of sweat. She had to be exhausted, but she refused to ask for a reprieve.

Wynter’s eyes glanced at the clock, Madame Sylvie caught it, and the latter frowned at her, then a string of French words left her mouth. Wynter shrugged her shoulders and muttered something back that I couldn’t hear.

Whatever it was, Madame Sylvie didn’t like it.

“Encore,” she demanded.Again.

Wynter turned to face her partner and said something, then both nodded. More steps, movements so in sync, it was mesmerizing to watch. Then her partner threw her so high up in the air, my heart fucking stopped. I wanted to burst into the studio and beat the living crap out of him.

Wynter twirled in the air, then landed on her feet and balanced herself.

“Bien,” Madame Sylvie exclaimed. “Bien.”

“Fucking finally,” I heard Wynter say, earning herself a glare from her instruction while my lips curved into a smile.

My phone buzzed and I checked the messages. It was from Priest.

*Presidential suite is all yours. Better show up, fucker.*

Then I shot a message to Dante.*Do you have everything in place to get Thalia out?*

Now that her mother was dead, we’d get her out. We have set her up with a place and enough money so she never had to work.

Dante’s reply came instantly.*While you’re getting laid in Philly, I’ll have her out and hidden. The old man will never find her.*

Before I had a chance to reply, the door to the suite opened, and Madame Sylvie’s eyes narrowed on me.

“Ah! This is why she’s distracted,” she complained in her thick French accent. “No boys. No boys.”

Wynter came right behind her and rolled her eyes, then grabbed my hand and dragged me away.

“She likes to torture people,” Wynter complained, still in her bodysuit. “I need to shower. I know this took longer than forty-five minutes. Do we have time?”

“Yes, take your time.”

* * *

“See, I knew you'd get us here in one piece,” I drawled, seated back in the passenger seat of my McLaren as Wynter parked the car in front of my cousin’s club and hotel building in Philly.