Shit. I don’t want her gratitude for kindness. I want her gratitude for orgasms. For giving her the gift of my cock.
I let my shirt hang open as I stare down at her. My dick should have softened at the rejection, but it only swells more for her. I’ll ruin Gia if I fuck her.
But I’m that much of an asshole that I don’t care. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want Gia, and it scares the shit out of me. That’s the only reason I walk away.
I close her bedroom door and take three steps when Lucca approaches at the top of the stairs.
“Boss,” he warns.
“Fuck. How bad is it?”
“Parisi’s pilot was told to have the jet ready for ten tomorrow morning. Rossi is with him. They’ll be back in Italy by two. He left a message to meet tomorrow at four.”
I button my shirt, aware of Lucca’s stare. He assumes I just fucked my wife. They know the marriage is a sham but will assume I still fuck my wife. However, I have an odd sense of protection for Gia. I’ve never been particularly private with the women who come in and out of my house. My men know the deal with Sebastiana and the others.
No one questions. They wouldn’t dare. For some strange reason I don’t want them to classify Gia in the same category as the others. Mainly because I haven’t fucked her. I plan on it though. Soon.
“Have the jet fueled and ready to take off at two tomorrow.” I don’t need to explain why or where. My men are trained not to question me.
By the time Lorenzo lands, we’ll be taking off. I need a few more days to make sure my contacts have what they need before I execute my plan.