Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 48371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48371 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 242(@200wpm)___ 193(@250wpm)___ 161(@300wpm)
She glances at me and writes, You’re a way better bodyguard than Anton.
That annoys the fuck out of me, because I don’t know shit about being a bodyguard, and Anton definitely should. “How so?”
She just shrugs and looks down at her notebook. I think it’s the end of the convo until she writes, He works for Hugh.
Fucking Hugh.
“Right. Well, you work for me, songbird, so I’m just protecting what’s mine.” It’s an asshole thing to say, but I can’t very well go making friends with her, can I?
She mimes picking her nose with her middle finger and puts her ear buds in, an act I should not find so cute.
Good. Mission accomplished. Now if I can just keep my hands off her for the rest of the trip.
Pepper
Tony’s phone rings while we’re boarding the plane. “Hey, Ma. How’s it going?”
He gives me the window seat and settles beside me. I don’t know why it’s hilarious to me that a mafia enforcer is taking a call from his mom, but it is.
“Actually, I’m on a plane, about to head to L.A. Yeah, for work… uh huh…” He glances over me, looking slightly sheepish. “Ma, you know that singer you like? Pepper Heart? Yeah, the Never Again song. Well, she’s singing at the Bellissimo this month. Yeah. I’ll fly you out, you can watch her show. I’ll give you special seats, away from the crowd. Waddya say?” He listens for a moment and rubs his face. “So what? You don’t need Tad to go, Ma. I’ll go to the concert with you.”
Yeah, this is what makes it funny. Because this big and terrifying guy still answers to his mom, still turns into a pleading child. It’s downright sweet, actually.
“Ma, if you’re scared to fly, I’ll come and get you.” He throws up an impatient hand, Italian style. “Who cares if Tad has to cook his own dinners? That stronzo will get by—” Tony heaves a giant sigh. “Fine. Fine. Forget about it. I just want you to get out and do something you enjoy for a change. Get away from—” He rubs his jaw. It’s only noon, but he’s already showing signs of a five o’clock shadow. “All right, all right. Yeah, I love you, too. Bye, Ma.” He ends the call with a scowl just as the plane starts to taxi.
I borrow his phone and take a selfie of the two of us with it, then open to his recent calls and copy the number to text. I send it to his mom with the words, Hi, from Pepper Heart. Hope to see you at my show!
Tony takes the phone back, looks at the message, and stares at me. I’ve turned back to the notebook, which I’m doodling with lyrics and overheard words and phrases. I feel the heat of his gaze.
“Hey, songbird.”
I glance up without lifting my head, like I can’t be bothered.
He leans down to meet my eyes. “Thank you. That was damn sweet of you.” He keeps staring at me, like he wants to say more.
I can’t read his gaze, which unnerves me, because I usually know exactly what’s up with people. I swallow and he drops his focus to my notebook, like he’s waiting for me to write something.
We both stare at the tip of my pen, the paper expanding beneath it. I write, I touched myself last night.
Tony inhales sharply. His hand slides across the back of my neck and up into my hair. Then his fingers curl slowly and he tugs, pulling my head back against the seat. “You’re just dying to feel my authority, aren’t you, baby?” His lips hover over my ear, the deep notes of his voice reverberating through my body.
I close my eyes, part my lips. Melt into the scene.
“Tell me, songbird, did you come?”
My eyes flutter open and I grip the pen. Yes, but it didn’t satisfy me. My heart pounds in anticipation. I know what I’m inviting. I definitely know I’m playing with fire here. But it’s the first time I’ve been interested in anything in so long. How can I let this moment pass? This opportunity to actually live for once?
“You need me to finish what I started?”
I nod unsteadily.
His grip tightens in my hair, little pinpricks of pain heightening my excitement. “Put your hand between your legs.”
My gaze shoots to his. Is he serious? Here? Now?
He drops my tray table to obscure the view and arches a stern brow.
I pick up my courier bag and plop it on my lap, then slide my hand under the canvas to cup my mons.
Tony’s hand still controls my head, scrunching up my hair in the back. He catches sight of the tiny heart I have tattooed at the base of my skull and groans. Leaning over, he flicks it with his tongue. “That’s so pretty, songbird.” He uses his thumb to lightly stroke the shell of my ear. “Inside your panties now,” he murmurs.