Page 46 of Villainous Kingpin

“Wynter, I told you it’s important to keep focused.” Her measured voice came through the line, but instead of calming me, it fed my frustration. “The Olympics won’t happen for another four years. This is it. You are already at a disadvantage since Derek and you are not practicing together. The recordings only go so far.”

God, she didn’t hear a word I said.

I closed my eyes in disbelief. “Would it kill you to be my mother for just a minute?” The bitter words escaped with a shuddering breath. “Do you have to be my coach all the goddamn time?” I asked tersely.

The tense silence stretched and I realized my mistake. My mother hated theatrics. She lived and breathed discipline. She used it like her own cage and pulled me into it too. I didn’t think I'd ever heard her laugh. Her smiles were rare and her praise was reserved only for my skating achievements.

“We could train here,” I muttered, words leaving my lips with a hope in my heart.

“Who’s the man?” she asked, without answering my question and I knew no amount of begging would make her come.

“Nobody,” I answered with resignation.

She made a comment about the dangers of the East Coast, but in my mind, I already stopped listening. My eyes lowered to the document laid out on the table. It was a schedule of dates and routes. I picked it up and turned it over in my hand and the front side read ‘Cash pickup.’

Glancing over my shoulder, I noted the door was shut and I quickly snapped a picture of it, all the while my mother still went on about my discipline and need for a regimented schedule.

This could be our next project.

CHAPTER18

Basilio

Wynter’s blonde curls glowed under the lights of the club.

Men threw glances her way but none of them dared to get too close to her. Not after what I’d done to the last man that dared to touch her without her permission. Truthfully, I’d have done it even if she gave him permission. Just for daring to touch her.

Nobody touches what’s mine and she was mine.

She moved sensually to the rhythm. After seeing her dance at Madame Sylvie’s, I wasn’t surprised to see her move so gracefully.

I bent down to her ear and whispered, “Are you okay?” Her light green eyes met mine and her eyebrow raised in question. “I overheard a fraction of your conversation with your mom.”

A soft sigh slipped through her lips and her shoulders slumped just slightly.

“She’s worried about distractions,” she explained, shrugging one shoulder. “Boys are a distraction.”

I chuckled. “That’s easily rectified.”

“It is?” she asked curiously.

“Yes, we’ll have her come to New York, and she’ll see I'm not a boy.”

She threw her head back and her melodious laugh rang between us.

“Loophole, huh?” she mused and I grinned. “She hates New York, and says there are too many criminals here.”

“Hmmm, odds are stacked against me,” I said, but I didn’t care. I’d impress her mother if it was the last thing I did. Wynter would be mine.

I pulled her closer to me and she smiled softly. Fuck, she’d bring me to my knees with that smile. This wave of possessiveness was overwhelming and reminded me of my father. I hated the comparison, but I couldn’t avoid it. Except, Wynter wanted me. She saw my brutality and still wanted me. She knew I’d never hurt her.

I gripped her hips tighter and we moved together. This moment when nobody and nothing mattered, just the two of us.

I caught her stifling a yawn and I grinned. “Am I boring you, principessa?”

She chuckled softly, her eyes shining with amusement. “Bas, you could never be boring.” She lifted on her toes and brushed her lips against mine. “I’ve been up since dawn. I rarely stay up late. Though the last few weeks have been crazy with the girls.”

Considering she and her friends burned down a house, then went to Chicago for a game of poker, while Wynter trained along, I bet she was tired.