Chapter 8

• LORENZO
• “Report,” I ordered, sitting on a sofa in the hotel room we'd gotten, and pouring myself a glass of brandy.
• “We found him,” Martino said, rubbing a cigarette between his fingers. He hadn't set fire to it yet because I had a strict no smoking around me rule. I didn't like the stench, and I definitely did not want to die due to lung cancer or some shit.
• I had bigger goals to attain.
• Like setting up a retail in New York before I hurled my ass back to Italy.
• The problem was finding a fucking retailer. Everyone seemed to shy out of doing business with the Italians. Probably because they knew they would get a bullet in the balls if they made one stupid move. I chuckled at the thought and took a sip out of my glass.
• The alcohol burned down my throat, slow and hot, and I closed my eyes at the feel.
• “Did you set up a meeting with him?” I asked and watched Martino nod curtly.
• Good. That was perfect. Setting up a company in the United States was as hard as hell. One had to register with the government and shit. That wasn't my cup of tea. And that meant drawing much attention to me. Attention meant police trouble. Police trouble was bad for business. It was that simple.
• However, I could take a shortcut, get a couple of retailers in the states, ship goods to them from Italy and get right on track with sales. Martino and Marco had spent the whole day digging into past retailers, while I went about a personal business.
• Meeting a potential investor for my Casino business. Too many bastards wanted to meet to invest in my casinos. They had thrived successfully for years in the states, and it was good business. However I had just three days left in New York. If I was going to secure any of them as an investor, I would have to meet with them before the end of three days.
• I rose to my feet, adjusting my suit. A black three-piece that clung to my huge frame quite well. Martino arched a brow as he watched me walk to the door.
• “You're leaving your boss?”
• “Meeting,” I grunted, turning the door handle. “An investor for the casino.”
• He nodded and focused on the cigarette in his hands, probably happy that he could smoke all he wanted with me gone.
• “Do not dream about smoking in my suite, or I'll tan your hide. Go to your damned room and do your shit.” I snapped, and he chuckled as if finding my words amusing.
• “Of course Boss,”
• I turned to leave and stopped in my tracks. “Tell Alejandro to meet me at the club in three hours.”
• “Sure thing,”
• Satisfied, I walked out of the hotel and made my way to my sports car. The drive to the restaurant was quick. The meeting was even quicker.
• The potential investor I had met was some elderly man named Philip, who had quite a lot of cash in his hands and didn't know what to do with it.
• I didn't want that kind of person on my team. I wanted someone who had a goal, no matter how depraved, and wanted to invest to achieve that goal. An aimless person could not be trusted. You never know when their interest in something dwindles away and they pull out.
• I'd left him there in the restaurant, choking on his olives, while I made my way to the club. I hadn't seen my perfect blue-eyed vixen ever since the day before, and she had been eating away at my head.
• Fuck, I couldn't stop thinking about her.
• It felt like I was there, at the club, all over again. Watching her as she served our drinks. A grin teased my lips at the thought. Serving me. Si. I would love to see that. I would fucking love to see her on her knees, those blue eyes glaring daggers up at me. I wanted to break that spirit, then revive it only to break it all again. I wanted to make her beg. Hear that sweet, perfect mouth beg me to fuck her.
• Hell!
• I could still hear that soft tiny moan she had made when I had her pinned against the wall of the club. Her beautiful body curved deliciously, arching under my touch. If she wasn't being so fucking stubborn, I could have taken her home. She would be in my bed, all drowsy eyed and satisfied as hell.
• Just how many more sounds could I draw out of her lips? I wanted to hear them all. Peel off every inch of clothing, run my tongue over her skin, and listen to her drive me crazy with those sexy sounds.
• I couldn't stop thinking about her. It had taken everything in me, not to drop by the club during the day, hoping to see her. But fuck, I had to. And then I had to convince her to come with me, yes? She wanted me.
• I had seen it in those blue eyes when I had her trapped in my arms. I had watched them dilate until desire pooled in them, and her breathing came out in soft pants. I loved how breathless she had sounded. That sigh. That fucking sigh!
• My hands tightened around the steering wheel as mg cock lurched in my pants. Fuck, I was doomed. I had to have her. She would plague my head unless I had her and got her out of my system. Fast.
• My knuckles whitened as they tightened further, recalling the way her ass had felt.
• “Fanculo,” I groaned, hating and loving the way my accent spilled out, becoming obvious. I prided myself in sounding American. It has proved useful in so many ways. But there was something, something about the vixen, that made me want to get raw with her.
• I wanted to knead her supple back side, while whispering all the dirty, dirty things I would do to her in Italian. Or wrap my mouth around her thick nipples. They had poked against her shirt, enticing me, calling attention, begging to be seen.
• With a growl, I swerved into a park nearby and made my way to the club, a spring in my step. I will see her soon. And when I did, I would make sure I had her tonight. No matter what.
• *****
• “I don't think she's around tonight, Boss,” Alejandro quipped, chugging down a glass of margarita and groaning in satisfaction.
• He had arrived not quite long, pissing me off way more than I was already.
• She wasn't here.
• My vixen wasn't here.
• I had stared so fucking hard at the bar, willing her to appear, but I couldn't find her! No sight of that bright blonde hair that felt as soft as silk in my hands. I had imagined grabbing onto it as I sunk deep into her wet, hot twat. No sight of those cruel, teasing blue eyes, either.
• Or that pert ass.
• Or that lithe body with the sweetest curve around her hips.
• Fuck. I was besotted.
• Who cared if she didn't show up? She probably had a day off or something. I could find another woman to slake my lust on. Like some redhead sitting hot so far from us who had been batting her lashes ever since I stepped into the bar. I wasn't interested, but I was too damned strung up. Just thinking about my waitress did that to me.
• "Where the hell is she?” I growled under my breath, irritated with everything. Why hadn't she shown up to work? Was she safe? Has she fallen sick?
• Fanculo! Why on earth was I worried about her? She was just a pussy I wanted to fill. A hot, seductive one, but hot nonetheless.
• “Damn,” I heard Alejandro mutter and glanced at him. He was checking out the redhead from earlier. It seemed she had moved on from trying to get me to notice her and had moved on to Alejandro. The asshat looked at me with puppy eyes. “Can I go, boss?”
• I sighed and nodded. “Find out what happened to my… To the waitress Natasha while you're at it, will you?” I ordered.
• “Yes!” Alejandro threw a fist in the air, raced out of the VIP booth and ran to the redhead. Sighing, I flagged an attendant for another drink.
• An hour later, a very satisfied Alejandro walked into the booth, a wide grin on his face.
• “I take it she was good?”
• “I love America,” he chuckled, sliding into his seat.
• “Good for you,” I grumbled.
• “I also found out about your waitress,” There was a teasing glint in his eyes when he said that, and I asked, resisting the urge to smack his head into the table between us.
• “They say she disappeared,” He supplied, suddenly going sober. “She didn't show up to work last night. And when Phil sent someone to check her home, she wasn't in. People around said she moved away.”
• “Shit!” I hissed, slamming my fist on the table. I had lost her. I had lost my vixen.