My eyes haven’t left her since she walked through my door, but she hasn’t looked at me. I deserve this treatment. I was an asshole to her last time she was in here. And though it should make me feel like an even bigger ass, I don’t stop myself from watching the sway of her hips as she approaches. I’m sure she meant to look professional, maybe even stern, dressed the way she is, but it’s not working. The jacket accentuates her delicious hour-glass figure. The pulled back hair exposes her pale neck, making me want to sink my teeth into her soft flesh. Seeing Sasha all polished and proper only tempts me to tear at her clothing and smudge her makeup.
When Sasha bends to sit in my visitor’s chair the movement exposes just a touch of cleavage.
The sound of the door shutting sends blood surging straight to my dick. I told myself I’d stay professional with Sasha from here on out, but being alone again, in this office again, has my body thinking differently.
I swallow down my lust. “Hello, Sasha.”
My voice sounds too gruff, too loud.
Her eyes finally snap up to meet mine. “Vincent.”
Her tone is clipped. Meant to be harsh. But I sense a slight tremble. She’s just as affected by our chemistry as I am. Or maybe that’s anger that I’m reading off her.
I push the feelings away and school my features. “Thank you for coming. I’m sure you have a list of questions for me, so why don’t we just get into it.”
Sasha stares at me. I’m being a prick and I know it. Pretending there’s no history here. But there’s no other way for us to get work done. The longer she stares at me, I start to figure that she probably thinks I’m some sort of sociopath.
I’m about to explain myself when she nods. “Understood.” She says with a flat voice.
I see something that looks like acceptance pass through her eyes, and I’m not prepared for the sting I feel in my chest. I’m the one that pushed her away. I’m the one that shut us down. I shouldn’t be mad that she’s accepting it.
After Vegas, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. Sure, I’ve been with women before. Had one night stands before. But no one has affected me like Sasha. I craved her. I thought about her long after our single night together. She consumed my thoughts more than I’m even willing to admit to myself. Then when I finally got my hands on her again, on this very desk, I couldn’t control myself. I demanded that she admit to thinking of me too. I forced her to tell me that she missed me. I withheld her pleasure until she told me what I needed to hear. And it was that moment when I realized I’d shown my hand. I’d made it all too obvious that I was attached to her. That I was obsessed with a woman I couldn’t have. A woman I couldn’t keep. And I got pissed. Pissed at myself for feeling so much for her. Pissed at her for making me feel that way.
So, I pulled away. I withdrew from her, even as I slid my cock inside of her. I regretted my mental barriers even as I was putting them up, but I knew there was no turning back. I can’t afford emotional connections.
I had fucked up by chasing her down when I saw her in the hallway. I couldn’t blame anyone but myself for that. My own lack of control disgusted me so much that I couldn’t even bring myself to look her in the eyes after we were done. I told myself it was because I didn’t want to see the hurt look on her face. But I’m starting to think that was a lie. The look she’s giving me now is worse. The look that says we’re done. That she’s done with me.
Sasha opens the portfolio in her lap and pulls out a pen. “Where have you been?”
Sasha’s words pull me back to our meeting. “Excuse me?”
She narrows her eyes, like I’m an idiot. “I’m going to go through the list of questions that you’re most likely to get from reporters the first time you go public.” She pauses, I assume to give my dumb monkey brain time to catch up. “So, where have you been? I know you’ve been running Mazzanti Enterprises, but people will want to know where you were living. And of course, why you stayed so private.”
“Right.” Business. I can do business. “I’ve been living in Minnesota.”
Sasha can’t hide the shock on her face. “Really?”
I nod. “As I’m sure you know, my family has lived in and around Minneapolis for generations. When my father was killed here, my mother wanted us to move. We went to Colorado first. Every few years we’d move again. I went to a variety of private schools. For privacy I was registered under my mother’s maiden name, though I never legally changed my name away from Mazzanti. We all knew that one day I would step into this role. I went to Harvard and focused my studies on business law and economics. When I graduated, I moved to Nevada and worked out of our Vegas offices. Vegas became the sight of the new headquarters after the death of my father, which made it a logical place for me to start. Throughout the years, I’ve moved to live near several of our office locations. Chicago, Miami, New York. When I was 31, I decided to move back to Minnesota.”
“Why?” The way Sasha’s head tilts as she asks the question makes me wonder if she wants to know professionally or personally.
“For my own reasons.”
She shakes her head. “No. Not good enough.”
“Excuse me?” My eyes narrow, unaccustomed to being challenged.
“When a reporter asks you why you moved back to Minnesota, a decade before the Mazzanti office was rebuilt, you’re going to need a better response than for my own reasons. That will only cause speculation. And the last thing you want right now is speculation.”
I want to argue, but she’s right. “I decided I was tired of moving. I’d been doing it since my dad died and I didn’t want to do it anymore. We didn’t have any official offices here at the time, but I was able to conduct a large amount of business out of my home. My mother moved back as well. This is where I grew up. Where she met my dad. It was time to come back.” I pause and see that Sasha is still questioning my sincerity. “It wasn’t a secret to my inner circle that there were plans to move the headquarters back to Minnesota. I may have been early to the game but making my permanent home here was the smart long play.”
Sasha’s taking notes so I don’t press to fill the silence that follows as she continues to write.
She doesn’t take her eyes off her notebook as she asks her next question. “Do you live in the city?”
When I don’t answer she looks up. When I still don’t answer she sets her pen down and rolls her eyes.
“Look, Mr. Mazzanti, I, Sasha Clark, don’t care where you live. I’m not trying to write a tell-all piece on you. If you looked at my contract, you’d know that I can never disclose any information from our conversations outside of sanctioned public relations events and correspondence. This is a question that you will be asked. If you don’t want to answer, that’s up to you. But if someone asks you where you live, you can’t just stare at them like an entitled prick.”
I’m still stuck on her calling me Mr. Mazzanti. I have a new fantasy and it involves Sasha, librarian glasses, a tight skirt, and a stern tone of voice.
Sasha continues to stare at me silently.
I sigh. “I live downtown. We own several residential buildings, and I reside in one. My mother is in another. I don’t want to tell the public even that much. I’d prefer to live in a house out in the country. And yes, I do have one. But the apartment provides the level of security that I require. It’s easier to control your surroundings when you have access to a building’s cameras and records. My company may be clean and legal, but that doesn’t make our history disappear. Even without our history, money alone can bring negative attention and threats, and we have plenty of that.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
Sasha’s words shock me. It’s the first positive thing she’s said to me today. “You’re welcome.”
She straightens her shoulders. “The legality of your business is going to be brought up. A lot. I know the public records work as proof to the claims of legitimacy, but the same public records are full of sensational stories from the past. We want to be careful to never say the words mob, mobster, gangster, or even organized crime. Whenever we’re asked about the past, we want to refer to it as history. That’s exactly what it is. History. Over and done. But people like a story.”
Sasha pauses and I get the feeling she’s uncomfortable with what she’s about to say.
“Go on.” I gesture to her.
She exhales. “When the topic of the Mazzanti family’s questionable history comes up, I would like to turn the focus to Stefano, your father.”
My jaw clenches, but she holds up her hands to halt my rebuttal.
“Hear me out. My job is to tell you the best way to present information to the public. I’m certain you don’t want sympathy. Just as I’m certain that you don’t want to talk about your father’s death. And you don’t have to. What I’m suggesting is that we put a spotlight on Stefano’s wishes for the future. He wanted a legacy he could pass down to his son. A legacy built on hard work and dedication. Not one tainted with blood and crime. He paid the ultimate price for his desires, but over the past 30 years Mazzanti Enterprises has built the business that Stefano could only dream of.”
Sasha’s words come out quiet by the end of her little speech, and I don’t know what to say. She’s absolutely right. Every word. Suddenly, I’m filled with a mixture of pride and sadness.
Sasha’s soft voice fills my ears. “I am sorry for your loss. And for bringing it up. But you’ll need to prepare yourself for having this conversation.”
I tip my chin in agreement. “I understand.”
“We have just under two weeks to prepare for the press conference that you’re hosting here next Friday. I’ll work with the in-house team to put together a list of talking points for you and to create an informational document that will be handed out to the attendees. I’m sure I’ll have some follow up items for you to address, but we should have plenty of time to put our plan together.”
I withhold my complaints. I’m not looking forward to hosting that circus.
Instead, I just nod. “I’ll make myself available.”
“Good. Now as long as you keep your nose clean moving forward, we shouldn’t have any problems.”
She’s lightening the mood, and I appreciate the gesture. “That shouldn’t be a problem.”
She writes another note then looks up. “That includes breaking arms in back alleys.”
It takes me a second to realize what she’s talking about. Then a genuine laugh bursts out of me. From the look on Sasha’s face, I don’t think my reaction could have surprised her more if I slapped her in the face.
Smiling, I shake my head. “That asshole had it coming.”
Her mouth pops open. The sight has me shifting in my seat.
“You didn’t really…” Her question trails off.
“Pretty sure you don’t want me to answer that.”
I watch her throat move as she swallows. “Did you know… Did you know who I was when you intervened in the bar that night?”
Her question takes me off guard. “No. Of course not. You were just some woman.”
As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. I watch as the look on her face goes from relief to hurt. I didn’t mean for that to sound so rude.
“Okay. Good.” She starts to pack her notes away. “And for the record, I didn’t know who you were either. Not until you walked into that meeting.”
She looks at my desk. The gesture is not lost on me.
“I saw you in the hallway.” The words leave my mouth before I can stop them, and her eyes dart up to mine.
I explain further. “You walked past a conference room that I was in. I didn’t know who you were when I chased after you. I hadn’t even had time to think about the fact that you’d be working here. I was hoping to catch you in the lobby. It was just luck that you happened to be in the elevator when the doors opened.”
She gives me one curt nod. “Okay.”
Okay?
She sets her folder on my desk and stands. “I think we can both agree that we should never do that again.”
I stand too. “Why?”
I know why. Because we’re working together now. Because I already feel too much for her. Because it’s an overall terrible idea. But I don’t like her calling the shots.
Sasha’s hands fist at her sides. “Why? Because you’re a giant bastard. That’s why. Even if you weren’t the real-life Mr. Sin. We’d be over. The way you treated me last time. That was unacceptable.”
I step around my desk. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”
Sasha’s mouth opens and closes. She wasn’t expecting me to agree. And as I take another step towards her, she takes a step back.
Her chin tips up. “Good. I’m glad we agree.”
I step closer. “I agree that I’m a bastard. And I apologize for my behavior. But we’re not done until I say we’re done.”
She steps back. “Vincent.”
I step closer and smirk. “Call me Mr. Mazzanti again.”
She stops. “We can’t do this.”
I step closer. “We just need ground rules.”
“Rules?”
Another step closer. “This” gesturing between us, “is just fucking. That’s all it can be. That’s all I have to offer.”
She crosses her arms over her chest. “I wouldn’t date you, even if you asked.”
I step closer still, bringing us nearly chest to chest. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her head is tilted back so she can look into my eyes. “I don’t date assholes.”
Heat floods my blood. Half lust. Half rage at the idea of her dating someone else.
My hands grip her shoulders and spin her around. With an arm around her waist and one over her chest I pull her so her back is pressed against me. I run my nose up the side of her neck, then lightly bite her ear lobe. “Sounds like we agree, sweetheart.”
Arching her back, Sasha presses her ass back into me. I squeeze her tighter and grind my cock against her. Our little sparring match has me rock hard.
Sasha tilts her head back against my chest so she can look up at me. “I’m considering your offer.”
I grin. “Just considering? Guess I need to work on my sales pitch.”
I continue to grind against her as I pop the button on her suit jacket. I can’t strip her down like I want to, but I can feel her. I palm her breasts over her shirt. Her bra is thin enough that I can feel her nipples pebble beneath my touch.
I groan and pinch them. “Fuck, baby. I bet you’re already wet for me. Aren’t you?”
I keep one hand on her glorious tit, the other slides down her stomach and down the front of her pants.
Her breath is already coming in pants. “What, think you can get me off this time? Or do you need my help again?”
Sassy girl. I slide my hand further down and my fingers brush against her slick pussy. In one quick movement I bury two fingers inside her.
She gasps and before she can make another noise my other hand leaves her chest and covers her mouth.
“Gotta stay quiet for me, sweetheart. Save those screams for when I’m the only one who can hear them.”
My fingers pump in and out of her while my thumb rubs circles against her clit. She’s so wet. So hot. So tight.
I grind against her even harder. I’m in danger of coming in my pants, but I can’t stop.
Her moans are getting louder, and my fingers start working faster. I get lost in the feeling of her. The sounds. The smell of her. Her warmth against me.
I know her body. I know her reactions. I can feel her getting closer. She’s moments away from an orgasm.
“That’s it. Come for me, sweetheart.” Her body tenses. “Come on my fingers.”
I can feel her mouth open in a silent scream against my palm, as her body shudders. Watching her pleasure has me on edge.
When she stops pulsing, I gently pull my hand out of her panties, dragging a finger up along her clit. I remove my palm from over her mouth and she tips her head back to watch me lick my fingers clean. Moaning at the taste.
Sasha watches me with an open mouth while she grinds her ass back against my still painfully hard cock.
“On your knees.”
The command is out before I even realize what I’m saying. I expect her to object. Maybe even slap me. But she doesn’t.
Turning to face me, Sasha does exactly what I told her to do, she drops to her knees. Her hand traces my length before she pulls my zipper down and frees my cock. A shiver runs up my spine as her fingers gently wrap around the head before sliding down to the base of my dick.
I bite back a growl. “Open up, baby.”
Her lips part, then close around me.
I groan. “Good girl.”
I can’t take my eyes off her. I want to memorize this image. This perfect creature, kneeling at my feet, head bobbing, my cock buried in her hot throat, the taste of her pussy still on my lips.
“I’m close.” I warn her.
I should be embarrassed at how quickly I’m going to come, but this feels too good for me to care. And it was her pussy clamping down on my fingers that got me so worked up in the first place.
Sasha takes me deeper and I lose what’s left of my restraint. My hands go to the back of her head, holding her steady and I pump into her.
I hang on for as long as I can. Taking in every detail. Every sound she makes. With a final thrust, I come down her throat.
I probably would have blacked out if it weren’t for her small hands gripping my thighs, her nails digging through my pants creating little pricks of pain. Those pinpricks kept me grounded.
My hands are still gripped into Sasha’s hair. My fingers loosening her perfect strands, giving her the freshly fucked look. Her lips pop as she releases me from her mouth.
Tipping her head back, Sasha looks up at me. She might be the one on the floor, but the look in her eyes is full of triumph. And fuck if she didn’t earn that look.
I brush a lock back behind her ear before I move my hands under her arms and lift her to her feet.
Straightening her clothes, she watches me zip up my pants. “Well, this didn’t go as I planned.” She mutters.
I smirk. “Then you and I had vastly different plans for this meeting. I’d say it couldn’t have gone better.”
Sasha rolls her eyes at me and pulls her hair free from the tie holding it back. She starts to do that thing girls do when they gather it back up, when the doorknob starts to turn.
We hear it at the same time, glancing at each other, realizing that we never locked the office door.
Sasha drops her hands, her hair tumbling around her shoulders, as I take a step away from her. Compromising position or not, I prepare myself to lay into whichever jackass thinks it’s okay to just walk into my office.
The door swings open and a blonde angel bounds through.
“Annie?” The shock in my voice is evident.
She grins while running towards me to wrap her arms around me in a hug. “Hey, dad!”
