“What if the New Orleans contingent and the London delegation merge, though?” suggests Damen.

I’m sitting in my office, listening to Damen and Dryas on the phone, arguing some point about our business to an exaggerated degree. Or half-listening… In my head, I’m occupied with Fiore.

Specifically, I am replaying over and over again the surprised sound she made just before she came all over my cock. Sort of a soft, puzzled “what the fuck?” kind of noise.

Followed, of course, by a loud, “oh… oh, god… OH, GOD… OH, MY GOD…”

It gets me hard, just thinking about the fact that I made her make those sounds. I am the reason she came like a fucking fountain, soaking her bed. Ruining the velveteen mattress pad.

Yeah, I’m still thinking about it, even though it is two days later.

“Arsen? Are you even listening?” Dryas yells.

I snap out of my dream. “Yes, of course.”

“He’s probably getting his dick sucked right now,” Damen says, sighing. “It almost makes me wish I had a slave.”

I scowl. “I said I’m listening.”

“So, do you think that London should take over New Orleans, or what?” Dryas asks.

I shake my head at Dryas. He’s the oldest brother, and he’s so eager to be in charge. I am sure that he has some kind of schemes that would bring London into his hands as well, down the line somewhere.

“No. I have a ton of work left to do in New Orleans. I still have a lot of palms to grease and a lot of arms to twist. To be honest, I thought it would be over by now, but… I don’t know. It’s not.”

“Have you used the girl at all?” Damen asks.

That gives me pause. “Fiore?”

“Whatever name you’re calling Katherine Carolla, I don’t know and don’t fucking care. But if you’re not using her somehow to intimidate the old mob bosses into doing your bidding, then I think you’re fucking crazy.”

“Or to manipulate them,” Dryas concurs. “Or both.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to me yet, but it should have. I guess I’ve been so wrapped up in what was happening here, I haven’t pulled my head out of the fog for long enough.

Wrapped up in her, to be more specific.

“I have plans to bring her along to a meeting in New Orleans in the future,” I lie, rocking back in my chair.

“He just wants to take her on his private plane. You know, join the mile-high club with her,” Damen taunts. “I think Arsen is starting to have it bad for her. Did he tell you how he doesn’t like to share Katherine with anyone else?”

“I should go,” I say, glowering.

“Oh, his blowjob must be about to come to an end,” quips Dryas. He and Damen both chuckle at that.

I hang up abruptly, not in any kind of mood for their brand of teasing right now. Sitting back in my seat, I look toward the window contemplatively.

My brothers are right about the fact that I need to bring Fiore into the New Orleans negotiations. Think of the look on their smug faces when I trot out the daughter of their fiercest competitor, happily chained to my side. The rumor mill has been busy, circulating whispers that the whole Carolla family disappeared somehow.

And I have just let the gossip make the rounds, biding my time. But now, with the essential part of these deals coming up… Now, it’s time to tell everyone what exactly became of little Katherine.

Let them imagine their own daughters and sisters kidnapped, brainwashed, and relying on me to keep breathing.

Of course, there is something special about Fiore. It’s starting to show, now that Sin is out of the way.

She has a backbone made of steel, but it is oh, so intoxicating when she lets her guard down. There is something so innocent about her, and yet she makes me harder than any woman I’ve ever met.

There is something else, too. Something more. Her fragility intrigues me. She seems like one of the cherry blossoms in the orchard flung far from the tree and fallen to the wayside. I can almost hear her praying that I don’t step on her and crush the life out of her every time I see her.

And when she’s about to cum… that look in her eyes, the shame and need and want, all mixed up together. It’s a look I want to see, over and over again. Bordering on an obsession, really.

I’m careful not to examine that though too closely. I don’t want to develop any real feelings for Fiore, but this… I think that having her close by could continue to work for me. For now.

Checking my watch, I see that I have a couple of hours before I’m scheduled to have another conference call. All this thinking about Fiore makes me want to see her. I feel myself harden inside my trousers at the very thought of what I could do with two hours of time.

My mind made up, I stride out of my office, looking for Fiore. Not finding her in her bedroom, I jog downstairs. Squinting as I head outside, I shade my eyes and look for her. It’s obvious enough that she’s not in the backyard.

“Where is she?” I ask one of the bodyguards, who is leaning against the house.

The surprised-looking young man pushes off the building, looking serious. “She’s over by the cherry trees, reading a book. Should I get her?”

Shaking my head, I start walking that way. “No. I’ll find her.”

At first, walking through the cherry tree orchard, I don’t see her. My first thought is that the lazy guard got her location wrong. My second thought is that he’s fallen for some form of trickery and that she is trying to escape again.

My knuckles clench and my heart picks up speed. I call out to her, my anger beginning to build. “Fiore!”

Immediately I see her head pop up. She looks at me, confused. “Yes?”

The relief that washes through me is almost shameful. Letting my fists unclench, I walk to where she’s sitting. Her puppy sits up, growling a little at me, and she shushes him.

“Shh, Cerberus,” she scolds. I can’t help but notice that she’s wearing a dress that I bought for her, a simple black one with a bow at the waist. Fiore shades her eyes and looks up at me. “Did you want something?”

She shifts Hamlet from her lap, staring at me expectantly. I feel like I am intruding on something, suddenly. It’s an unwelcome sensation, and one I’m unused to feeling.

“Are you still reading Hamlet, then?” I ask her.

Her gaze drops to the book. She touches it with two fingertips as if it were a lover she’s only just become comfortable with. “Yes. It’s tragic all around, I’m afraid. But it is different than The Count of Monte Cristo, so…”

Kneeling down beside her, I pick the volume up, skimming the pages. “I remember it well.”

She gives me a long look. “I imagine.”

A musty scent exudes from the pages of the book. Closing it with a snap, I look at Fiore. “I came down here for sex.”

Arching a brow, her expression turns haughty. “You did, did you?”

Nodding, I glance into the sky, noting how the cherry blossoms look. They seem so frail against the wild blueness beyond. “Was this your place with Sin?”

She gives me a shocked look. “What? No. There was no place. There was no me and Sin.”

Giving her a doubtful look, I grasp a piece of grass and twine it between my fingers. “He tried to help you escape.”

“And? Why do you have to make it something sinister and sexual? He came to me early in the morning and said that if I was going to run, that was the time. So, I ran. It’s as simple as that.”

I snap the piece of grass. “That’s your version.”

She heaves a sigh. “It’s the only version. You want to believe… I don’t know, that there was some grand scheme. Or that Sin and I had some torrid affair. You want to think that we conspired against you, but we didn’t.”

I glance up at her. Fiore’s expression is earnest. She either means what she says, or she’s a really spectacular actress.

Nodding slowly, I concede. “It’s not always easy to figure out who to trust. And you did try to escape.”

She catches her bottom lip between her teeth, hesitant to speak.

“Just say it,” I tell her. “Tell me that you thought of running off with Sin.”

Fiore seems sad. “I don’t know if you even really understand what’s going on here. I’ve been kidnapped. Sold. Bought at an underground market. Transported out of the US. Brought and imprisoned here. You get that all of this has been against my will, right?”

I heave a sigh. “It’s not really my fault. It would have happened, with or without me. Your father was the one that sold you. I just… took pains to make sure that I was the one that snatched you up. That’s all.”

“You could have let me go!” she says, her voice rising dangerously.

I lift a brow. “I could have, yes. But then where would you go? What would you do?”

She doesn’t have an answer for that. Fiore scowls. “My point is the same. You don’t get to be the good guy in this scenario.”

She shifts a little, and I look at her lovely figure. She could’ve been anyone, looked like whatever when I bought her. But she looked like this, with her big blue eyes and her soft blonde hair.

She became Fiore, and she was mine. My toy, my possession. “If I have to be the bad guy, I will still expect the rewards.”

I spread my fingers out over her hip, through her dress. My lips curve upward at how there is a sizzle of electricity between us even from that little contact.

“What rewards?” she asks, eyeing my hand.

I lean close to her, moving the curtain of her hair off of her shoulder. Kissing her collarbone, I like how she shivers. I like how responsive she always is to me. Her yelps, her moans…

I’m getting hard right now, just thinking of what I’m about to do.

Picking up the hem of her dress, I smooth my hand against her thigh underneath. “I have a break in between my phone calls. I started thinking of you…”

Moving closer, I skim my touch upward, between her thighs. She’s so smooth all over, so touchable and lickable. I glance at her face, seeing her indecisive expression.

And I understand perfectly, for once. She doesn’t want to encourage me, but she also likes my touch. I give her the wickedest smirk when I toss up her skirts, exposing her to the lower belly.

“Monster,” she tries to scold, but she can’t keep the breathlessness from her voice. “Don’t.”

I crawl closer, kissing her kneecap. “Don’t what?”

The way she bites her lower lip and cocks her head, her chest heaving, tells me everything I need to know. She’s turned on by me, by my mere presence. Like the wolf that I am, my ego is stroked.

“Open your thighs for me, princess,” I say, dropping my voice to a rumble. “Spread that pretty pussy open for me. I promise I’ll play nice for once.”

There is a moment of uncertainty, the two of us just staring each other down. Then hormones win, and she starts to part her creamy white thighs.

In the orchard, there under the cherry blossoms, I start to kiss up along her legs. When I reach the juncture of her thighs, finding her clit, she’s lost to me. She starts making these breathy little moans and buries her fingers in my hair.

And I soak up every second of it.