Chapter One
Fuck me.
So much for a normal day. As soon as I got to my dad’s shop that morning, it had all gone right out the window and flipped me the bird. It might as well have fucked me right in the ass too.
Without any lube.
“Owwwie! Stupid sewing machine!” I cried out. Pain shot down my hand as I tried to extricate myself as gently as I could from the sewing needle impaled in my finger, but in my hurry, I accidentally knocked an entire cup of espresso all over my shirt.
Maybe I should have just stayed in bed today.
“Sofia! Attenta! Be careful with that needle,” my father called from the back room. Thank God he couldn’t see the coffee dripping all over me. That would just make things ten times worse. With a sigh, I dabbed at my shirt with an extra piece of cloth, but it didn’t seem to make it any better. In fact, it made it worse, spreading it all around rather than soaking it up.
This wasn’t my day.
“I know, Papa. It just slipped,” I replied, sucking on my finger, and grimacing at the metallic taste of my own blood. I glared at the old Singer sewing machine sitting right in front of me. It had belonged to my grandmother. This wasn’t the first time it had attacked me, and I was certain it wouldn’t be the last, the sneaky little gremlin.
I glanced down at my shirt and then at the rows of suits and dresses hanging neatly by the front desk.
I needed to change. Pronto.
Striding over to the back of the shop, I rummaged through the year-old orders that were never picked up, trying to find something other than my stained shirt to wear. After searching for a minute or two, I happened on a white button-up shirt that was at least close to my size, and I quickly changed out of my coffee-stained top.
Pressing my finger into my mouth again, I sucked on it in hopes it would make it feel better, but it didn’t. It just continued to throb and pulse. The stupid needle had sunk in deep. I’d gotten myself pretty fucking good.
I glared back over at the offending dress still laid out beneath the sewing machine. I’d just been trying to take in the hem and had been humming to myself. It was my own fault really; I should have been paying better attention, but still… this fucking sucked.
It hurt. A whole lot.
The bell above the door chimed, signaling a customer, and I looked up only to see that it was the police coming through the front entrance. For a second, I just stared at them, flustered. What were they doing here? What the heck could they want in a simple tailor shop?
Two officers from the Polizia di Stato, dressed in their dark blue uniforms, strode up to the front desk, their expressions apologetic. One was tall with a stern expression, while the other, slightly shorter, had kind eyes that looked sort of sad.
Offhand, they looked kind of familiar, like I’d seen them before but couldn’t exactly place them. I smiled softly and walked over to the counter as they approached, hoping to help them with whatever they needed, be it directions or maybe some information. I opened my mouth to ask, but the taller one spoke first.
“Buongiorno. We need to speak with Marco De Luca,” he said, his tone leaving no room for questions. I gave them a quizzical look, wondering what they would want with my father, but they didn’t explain themselves. With a shrug, I turned my head, cleared my throat, and called out into the back.
“Papa!” I shouted. My father appeared a few moments later, wiping his hands on a piece of cloth, his brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes? How can I help you, Officers?” he asked, his voice calm but increasingly wary, which was kind of weird.
“Mr. De Luca, we have a warrant for your arrest,” the tall officer stated, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to my father. “You are under arrest for suspected tax evasion.”
I blinked for a second, thinking I’d misheard him. This couldn’t be right. My father was a tailor, not a criminal.
“What? This must be a mistake,” I blurted out, stepping forward. “Tell them, Papa. Tell them it’s some kind of terrible mistake.”
The kind-eyed officer looked at me sympathetically but remained silent as my dad met my gaze. For a fraction of a second, he looked much older than his fifty-two years. He turned to me, his eyes somehow calm amidst whatever this was. What the hell was going on?
“Sofia, call Massimo,” he said quietly, his voice steady despite the insanity of the situation. “Tell him what’s happening.”
“Papa, what’s going on?” I whispered as the officers began to lead him away. My heart was pounding in my chest and my palms were starting to feel a bit sweaty.
“Sofia, just do as I say. Go home and call Massimo,” he repeated, his voice firmer now. I nodded, fumbling to take my phone out of my pocket with shaking hands.
I watched helplessly as they escorted him out of the shop, the doorbell chiming once again as it closed behind them. I didn’t know what to do. Honestly, I just stood there for a moment sort of shell-shocked until I glanced at the phone in my hand and stared at it like there was some sort of solution that would suddenly materialize right in front of me.
Call Massimo.
Massimo Sartori, my father’s best friend, was practically family. He had always been there for the two of us all my life, especially since my mother passed away when I was a child. He’d practically helped raise me and he’d been at my father’s side through thick and thin. He was always a little stricter than my dad, but that just made him who he was.
Plus, I sort of had a little bit of a crush on him.
I closed my eyes, imagining his hazel eyes staring back at me, warm and kind and filled with mysterious powerful wisdom. Tall and broad-shouldered, he had a kind of rugged charm that always made me feel at ease. His dark hair, flecked with a touch of gray, only added to his distinguished air. Somehow, he always knew exactly how to handle difficult situations and I hoped this time would be no different.
With a trembling hand, I scrolled through my phone and dialed his number. It rang twice before he picked up, his deep voice instantly calming my frayed nerves a little bit.
“Massimo,” I began, my voice shaking more than I cared for it to.
“Sofia, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, his concern breaking through in his voice right away.
“It’s Papa. He’s been arrested,” I said, my voice breaking. “The police said he’s involved in tax evasion or something like that. I don’t know what to do.”
“Tell me everything,” he said softly.
I recounted the morning’s events as best as I could, my voice steadying with each word. Massimo listened intently, letting me tell my side of the story without interruption. When I was finally done, he cleared his throat.
“We need to get a lawyer and find out exactly what evidence they have against your father,” he said, when I’d finished speaking. “In the meantime, you need to listen to him. Close up the shop and go home. Do not go anywhere else, understand? I will meet you there as soon as I can. I’ll go and handle the police.”
“Okay,” I said.
He hung up the phone and I swayed back and forth on my feet for a moment as his instructions echoed in my head. With a deep breath, I locked up the shop, put a closed sign on the front door, and headed home even though it was in the middle of the afternoon.
Maybe if I went to bed, tomorrow would be a better day.
[divider]Chapter Two
Massimo Sartori
I didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but I was certainly going to find out.
Someone had targeted my best friend, Marco De Luca, and that required an answer, one I would stop at nothing to figure out. I didn’t understand how this could have happened without my knowledge, but someone was going to tell me why or heads were going to roll.
I curled my upper lip as I pushed myself off my desk, walked out the front door of my office and into the streets of Florence.
How could this have happened? How could someone step over my head and take out one of my best men?
My name carried a certain weight in this city and that should have meant something in this situation. Not just because of the business empire I inherited from my family, but because of the respect—and yes, fear—my name commanded. Marco had only been tangentially involved in my world, which made this whole thing even more ridiculous.
Marco had been my best friend since I was a little boy.
We’d grown up together, him in a modest apartment above his father’s tailor shop, me in a sprawling estate that included an entire village. My family had its hands in all sorts of businesses—some legitimate, some less so. As heir to my family, I could never escape its hold, but Marco had a different kind of life. He had always been straight as an arrow except when it came to me. Sure, I’d used his shop as a front, so the charges weren’t exactly bullshit, but still. I should have known something was going down hours before it actually did.
I had no idea who could be targeting him and if they knew he was connected to me, but come hell or high water, I was going to get him out.
My mind raced as I walked briskly toward the police station, trying to piece together who could possibly have it out for my best friend. It couldn’t be anyone in the police department; they’d all known Marco for years, and I knew his taxes were always in order. That left a long list of other people that I’d pissed off over the years. I had so many enemies at this point that it would have probably been easier to list who in Italy actually liked me at this point than who didn’t.
Hold on, Marco. I’ll get you out.
As I crossed the street, I felt the hair on the back of my neck prickle and a wave of unease washed over me.
Was someone watching me? I scanned the street and the sidewalk but didn’t notice anyone or anything suspicious. Still, my body remained tense. I kept going though, and the feeling gradually disappeared. I shook it off, attributing it to the shock of finding out my best friend just got arrested.
When I reached the station, I pulled open the heavy doors and stepped inside. There were several uniformed officers milling about, but I made a beeline for the front desk.
The man sitting behind it barely looked up at me. His hair was balding, and it was in a really bad combover. I could hear him chewing on a pastry. It must have been cherry filled or something because there was a smidge of it on the side of his lip that he probably didn’t even know about.
Classy.
“I need to speak with the inspector in charge of the Marco De Luca case,” I demanded. I wanted information and I wanted it now.
The man sighed heavily. “Do you have an appointment?”
“No, but—” I replied quickly.
“If you don’t have an appointment, then—”
“I don’t need an appointment,” I growled, cutting him off.
The man finally deemed me worthy enough to lift his head and he started, his eyes opening wide when he took in the sight of me. His mouth agape, he finally remembered to wipe the side of his face, which simply smeared the cherry filling across his cheek instead of cleaning it off.
“Mr. Sartori. I’m so sorry,” he said, his tone respectful now.
“I need to see whoever is in charge of this. Right now,” I said, my voice hardening.
“Of course. One moment, please.”
The officer behind the desk scrambled to his feet, clearly understanding what my presence here meant. As he disappeared down the hallway, I took a moment to survey the bustling police station but didn’t see anything out of the ordinary aside from a drunk man stumbling in the corner. Everything else seemed normal, from the smell of stale coffee in the air to the dozens of police officers working at their desks.
I didn’t have to wait long before a tall, graying man in a suit emerged, his face a mix of reluctant curiosity and abject caution. His expression was pulled tight though, like he was slightly nervous to be standing in front of me and didn’t quite know what to say or how to approach me.
Good.
He should be afraid.
“Mr. Sartori,” he said, extending his hand. “Inspector Gianni Rizzo. Please, follow me.”
I nodded curtly and followed him down a narrow corridor to a small office. He closed the door behind us and gestured for me to sit, but I remained standing, my impatience growing by the second.
“Inspector, Marco De Luca is an honest man,” I began without preamble. “These charges against him are baseless. I need to know who’s behind this and what evidence they think they have to work with.”
Rizzo sighed and leaned back in his chair, regarding me thoughtfully. For a moment, he was quiet, like he was trying to choose his words carefully, and I stared back at him, not backing down.
“Mr. Sartori, I understand your concern. Marco De Luca has been a respected member of this community for many years. However, the investigation is ongoing. From what I understand, there is a mountain of evidence and we’re still piecing through it.”
I leaned forward, my eyes narrowing as I pressed my fingers to the surface of his desk. “And where exactly does this so-called evidence come from? Who’s feeding you this nonsense?”
He hesitated, then opened a file on his desk. “The initial report came from an anonymous tip. But the financial records we’ve reviewed suggest a pattern of discrepancies over the past several years.” The longer he went on, the more reluctant he sounded, and I gritted my teeth, quickly growing more and more annoyed.
“Anonymous tip. That’s bullshit and you know it,” I muttered, shaking my head, trying to keep my anger at bay. I was quiet a moment, clearing my throat before I began again, my voice level and calm. “What kind of discrepancies are we talking about?”
“Unreported income, falsified expenses,” he replied, flipping through the papers. “It’s a significant amount, Mr. Sartori. Enough to warrant an investigation.”
I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my temper in check. I had several officers on the payroll, but this man wasn’t one of them. I wasn’t sure if that was one of the reasons why he was in charge of Marco’s investigation in the first place, but I was going to have to tread carefully to get the information I wanted, at least until I could get proper bribes in place and my chief intelligence specialist on the case.
“Marco is a tailor, Inspector. He runs a small shop, not a multinational corporation. This smells like a setup to me and it would be wise for your people to consider that,” I explained, trying to get him to see that this was madness.
Rizzo’s gaze softened slightly.
“Believe me, Mr. Sartori, if there’s any foul play involved, we will uncover it. But for now, Marco will remain in custody until we can sort this out,” he replied.
I took a deep breath, trying to quell the anger boiling inside me. I could yell and scream at him, but that wouldn’t get me anywhere. I needed to bide my time and get the whole story before I rushed to action, at least for now. I needed to know who was behind this before I made any sort of big moves.
“Very well, Inspector. But know this—I will not rest until Marco is cleared. And if I find out who’s behind this, they’ll regret ever targeting him,” I warned.
“Understood, Mr. Sartori. Do what you need to do,” the officer said curtly.
“Before I leave though, I need to speak with Marco. I won’t step foot out of this station until I do.”
Rizzo nodded, seeming to understand that my demands were not to be ignored. I could tell that he knew of my reputation, and although I was asking something a bit out of the ordinary, he was trying to figure out what was the right path. He cleared his throat.
“Follow me,” he said, leading me through another set of corridors until we reached a small, dimly lit room. Inside, Marco sat at a plain metal table, his hands cuffed in front of him. He looked tired and miserable, and to be honest, I didn’t blame him. I’d feel the same way if I were him.
“Five minutes,” Rizzo said before stepping outside, closing the door behind him.
Marco looked up, his eyes weary but filled with a glimmer of hope.
“Massimo,” he said, his voice strained.
“Marco,” I replied, taking a seat across from him. “I’m going to get you out of this. But for now, you need to hang tight. I will have men on you the whole time. They will protect you and make sure you’re safe.”
Marco nodded, his expression one of gratitude mixed with concern. “Thank you, Massimo. Did you talk to Sofia? I don’t want her caught up in this mess.”
“I did. I sent her home for the time being, but I’ll make sure she’s safe. You can trust me,” I replied, and he cocked his head, meeting my gaze directly.
He was one of the few men that ever dared to do that, and I respected him all the more for it.
Marco leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “Listen, I need you to look out for her, really look out for her. I’m not asking you as a don, or a kingpin, but as my best friend. Make sure none of this touches her. Keep her safe.”
“You have my word, Marco. I’ll do everything I can to protect her,” I vowed.
“I trust you, Massimo,” he replied, nodding curtly.
I clasped his shoulder. “We’ll get through this, Marco. I promise. Stay strong. Keep an eye out for my men. You’ll recognize a few of them. Stick with them and you’ll stay safe too.”
“I will,” he smiled softly, and someone knocked on the door, signaling that my five minutes were up. With a sigh, I stood up, meeting Marco’s anxious gaze.
“I’ll figure out what’s going on. I don’t know if someone is targeting me through you, or whatever the fuck this is, but I’m going to find out,” I said quietly, and he nodded.
“I know you will,” Marco responded.
As I exited the room, my mind was already racing with what I needed to do next. First things first, I needed to uncover who was behind this setup, because that’s what this probably was, and quickly. But right now, I needed to speak with Enzo Santini, an old contact of mine who specialized in finding information. He was good at his job, and it didn’t matter what kind of firewall or edge of the dark web he had to crawl to; he always came through with what I needed when I needed it.
Stepping out into the bright sunlight, I dialed his number. I’d worked with him a good many times through the years and I’d considered putting him on the payroll permanently, but he was a solo kind of guy. He liked being his own boss, although I think I just hadn’t offered him enough money yet.
Everyone had a price. You just had to be good at finding it and I excelled at that. I’d get him eventually.
“It’s Massimo,” I said as soon as he picked up. “I need you to dig into everything you can find on Marco De Luca’s case. Anonymous tips, financial records, anything that looks out of place. And I need it yesterday. I’ll pay double for you to put aside whatever you’re working on, and I’ll even throw in a case of Monster.”
“You know me well, Massimo. Consider it done,” the investigator replied without hesitation. “I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”
“Good. I’ll be looking forward to your call,” I said, and I hung up the phone as I strode down the streets toward my best friend’s place where Sofia De Luca should be waiting for me.
My cock hardened at the thought, even though it shouldn’t.
I needed to figure out what to do with her next.
[divider]Chapter Three
Sofia
As I walked down the streets of Florence toward my apartment, my worry slowly morphed into rage as I thought about my dad and what happened this morning. He had to have done what they accused him of, because if they didn’t have enough evidence, they wouldn’t have arrested him. So there had to be something there, right?
How dare he do what he did!
My father was always so careful and meticulous, always preaching about honesty and integrity. How could he have slipped up so badly? The anger bubbled inside me like a boiling pot threatening to overflow, and I couldn’t put the lid back on.
And then it got worse.
The streets were busy with people going about their day, all of them oblivious to what was going on in my head. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms. I needed to calm down, to think rationally, but every time I tried, a new wave of anger rolled through me.
How could my dad have let this happen? How could he leave me alone like this? I couldn’t run the tailor shop on my own. He was the talented one; I was the one who poked herself with a needle more often than not. How was I supposed to pay the bills? Rent even? Where was I going to live?
A million questions swirled in my head, and I didn’t have answers for any of them.
I took a detour, deciding I needed to clear my head before going home. I didn’t want to face an empty apartment with nothing but my thoughts and a ticking clock for company. I wandered aimlessly, my pace slow and deliberate, almost daring someone to question my lack of direction just so I could confront them about it.
A group of tourists blocked the sidewalk, and I brushed past them, my irritation palpable. They glanced at me but quickly looked away. I knew I was giving off a vibe that screamed ‘don’t mess with me,’ or maybe it was resting bitch face, but I didn’t care.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out, half expecting it to be Massimo, but it was just a message from my friend Alessia Romano asking about meeting up. I ignored it, not in the mood for idle chatter or pretending everything was okay.
As I walked past a small café, the smell of fresh coffee wafted out, mixing with the scent of baked goods. My stomach growled, reminding me that I hadn’t eaten anything since the morning. I thought about stopping in, but the idea of sitting alone and stewing in my thoughts didn’t appeal to me either.
Ugh. What the fuck was I going to do?
I continued walking, each step feeling heavier than the last. My legs were starting to ache, and the afternoon sun was relentless as it beat down on me. I needed to go home, needed to figure out what to do next, but I couldn’t bring myself to turn back.
“Sofia,” a familiar voice called out behind me. At the sound of it, my heart leapt into my throat and a nervous twinge squeezed tight in my core.
I glanced back and saw Massimo striding toward me, his expression unreadable. My anger flared again, irrationally directed at him now. Why was he always so calm, so in control, when my world was falling apart?
“Sofia, wait,” he called out again, his voice carrying over the noise of the street.
I ignored him, picking up my pace. I didn’t want to talk to him, didn’t want his reassurances or his plans or whatever he wanted to talk about. I wanted to be angry, to shout and scream and let out all the frustration that was building up inside me.
It didn’t take him long to catch up with me though.
He gently took my arm, firmly leading me in the direction of my father’s and my apartment. The moment his fingers touched my arm, a flare of fire tingled all the way to my heart. His grip was forceful but not harsh, and I felt a strange mix of comfort and frustration at his touch.
“It’s not safe for you to be wandering around right now,” he said quietly, his eyes scanning the street as we walked.
“And why is that?” I snapped, but I continued to walk beside him. It was almost like I wanted his company. Maybe I didn’t, but right now, it was a small comfort.
His silence was all the answer I needed. My heart skipped a beat, fear momentarily overshadowing my anger.
“Is this because of Papa?” I whispered.
Massimo’s jaw tightened. “I don’t know for sure, but I’m not taking any chances. You’re too important to me and your father.”
I felt a surge of conflicting emotions. I was angry at being treated like a child, but at the same time, I couldn’t deny the warmth that spread through me at his protectiveness. I looked down at the ground, noticing a crack in the sidewalk before I braved a look at him.
With a hard swallow, I glanced down at his arm. I’d imagined him touching me many times in the past, but not like this. His hazel eyes met mine, dark and stormy and way too seductive.
Sometimes, I liked to think about Massimo in a way that my dad definitely wouldn’t like. My thighs tensed as my gaze dropped to his lips. I’d always had a crush on him, but recently, it had become more than that.
What would it feel like if he kissed me, if he grazed those full lips down the length of my neck and further still? What if his fingers slid between my legs and touched me there? A visceral surge of pleasure shot straight down to my clit, and I almost yelped out loud at the intensity of it.
I caught myself before I glanced down any further toward his cock.
Get it together, Sofia. Massimo is practically your uncle. Shove this nonsense out of your head.
“Fine,” I muttered, too caught up in my own shame to argue any further. “I’ll go home.”
At my acquiescence, he released his hold on me and for a while, I missed it. We walked the rest of the way in silence, the rising tension between us palpable. When we finally reached my apartment, Massimo followed me inside, closing the door firmly behind him.
For some strange reason, it felt ominous.
“Lock this,” he instructed, pointing to the deadbolt. “And don’t open it for anyone except me.”
“Massimo, this is ridiculous. I’m not some damsel in distress,” I said, my voice racked with annoyance.
“No, you’re not, but I made your father a promise to protect you and I fully intend to keep it,” he answered.
“I don’t need you here to protect me. My father did something dumb and broke the law, and now he needs to pay for it. In the meantime, I can take care of myself. I’m eighteen. I don’t need either of you,” I countered.
Massimo’s jaw tensed as he stepped forward, his eyes darkening with something I didn’t quite understand for a moment. Then his expression softened and there was a flash of something else in his eyes that took me by surprise. Was it… desire?
No.
It couldn’t be that. That would be crazy.
But the way his eyes seemed to burn into mine sent a rush of heat between my legs. It was the first time he looked at me like I was an adult, not some little girl, and my body was responding in a way that I didn’t think was possible or even remotely appropriate.
“I don’t think you understand, Sofia,” he said quietly, his voice low and husky. “When I say that I’ll protect you, I mean it.”
“And I don’t need protection,” I retorted, despite the shiver of pleasure that ran down my spine at his words.
Massimo stepped closer, his eyes never leaving mine. My pulse quickened, my breath catching in my throat.
“Maybe not,” he conceded. “But I’m here anyway.”
[divider]Chapter Four
Massimo
Sofia was testing my patience and honestly, it was making my cock so fucking hard that it was starting to hurt.
She was a good kid, but defiant at times, and I’d always thought she was the kind of girl that would benefit from a good spanking from time to time. She didn’t understand what could be at stake right now and her rebellious defiance was simply getting in the way.
My fists tightened at my sides as I tried to ignore the urge to do that very thing right now, to grab her arm and toss her over my knee. She was wearing a skirt. It would be easy to flip it up, tear her panties off, and give her the spanking she needed right fucking now.
Fuck.
She’s your best friend’s daughter. Keep your head on straight.
I needed to protect her and the first thing I needed to do was make sure she was safe.
I ignored my hard cock, took a step back and glanced around her and her dad’s apartment. The place was neat, organized, and quintessentially middle class, filled with modern conveniences and traditional Italian touches. The living room had comfortable furniture, a few family photos, and a TV mounted on the wall. The kitchen was open and functional, with sleek countertops and ample storage. It was the kind of home that was perfect for a family, but it was a security nightmare.
I frowned, my mind racing with possibilities. I wouldn’t be able to keep her safe here. She was going to have to come with me.
There were too many windows, too many entry points, and no real security measures to speak of. Anyone determined enough could easily break in or find a way to ambush her or even kill her.
“This place is impossible to secure,” I muttered under my breath.
Sofia stood in the doorway, watching me with a mixture of defiance and curiosity. She put her hand on her hip with a huff and I couldn’t help but imagine that bare ass reddening under my palm once again.
God, she fucking needed it…
“What do you mean?” she asked, her attitude bleeding through her tone.
I turned to face her, my expression serious. “There are too many angles here, too many ways someone could get in or watch you. We need to get you somewhere safer.”
“Safer? Like where?” she snapped.
“My estate,” I said firmly. “It’s much more secure, and we can control who comes and goes. Pack your things. You’re coming with me.”
She let out an exasperated sigh.
“Great. Just great. And how am I supposed to live my life there? I have school, friends, my whole life here. I can’t just up and leave because you think it’s dangerous. I’ve lived here all my life!” she complained.
My patience was wearing thin, but I forced myself to stay calm.
“Sofia, this isn’t just about what you want. Your father asked me to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do.”
“And what about my school? My friends? Am I just supposed to drop everything?” she asked, clearly unconvinced.
Stay patient…
“We’ll figure something out,” I said, my tone softening. “You can continue your studies online, and your friends can visit. But for now, your safety is my top priority.”
She huffed and turned away, clearly not happy with the situation, but I really didn’t care. She shook her head and walked into her bedroom, and I followed her.
The walls of her room were painted a soft pastel pink. There were a few posters of Taylor Swift hanging on the walls alongside some beautiful pictures of the Tuscan countryside that I knew she’d taken herself. A cozy bed with a floral duvet was neatly made in the corner, next to a small wooden desk cluttered with schoolbooks and a laptop. The room was filled with personal touches—a bookshelf overflowing with books, a few framed photos of her and her friends, and a string of fairy lights draped around the window.
It was sweet and it instantly reminded me that she was a teenager, and I was her dad’s best friend.
“This is ridiculous,” she scoffed.
“This is just how it needs to be, Sofia,” I replied gently.
What do I need to do to get this girl to come with me?
I took a deep breath and pulled my shoulders back. Sofia stood by her desk, defiance radiating from every pore. Her arms were crossed, and her lips were pressed into a tight line. She wasn’t making this easy, and each second that ticked by tested my patience more and more.
“Sofia, pack your things,” I said, my voice steady but with an edge of command that I knew she couldn’t ignore. “You’re coming with me. Now.”
She narrowed her eyes, the rebellious spark in them igniting into a full blaze.
My cock only got harder.
“And if I don’t want to?” she challenged, lifting her chin defiantly.
I took a deep breath, reminding myself to stay calm. This was for her safety, even if she couldn’t see it right now.
You can’t spank her.
You shouldn’t punish her… not right now, not ever…
“This isn’t a debate, Sofia.”
She huffed and turned her back on me, muttering something under her breath as she began to shove some clothes into a bag. I could see the tension in her shoulders, the frustration in the jerky movements of her hands, the firm set of her jaw. She was pushing every one of my buttons, and it was taking every ounce of control I had not to react.
I kept my hands at my sides and shoved them in my pockets instead of smacking her disobedient backside.
“Fine,” she snapped, spinning around to face me again. “But this is ridiculous. I’m not a child, Massimo. I can take care of myself.”
“You’re not a child, but you’re not invincible either,” I replied, my tone sharper than I intended.
“I don’t know why you’re being so uppity over this,” she mumbled under her breath, and I had to stop myself from saying anything about what she needed right now.
She glared at me, her eyes flashing with a mixture of anger and something else—something that sent a jolt of desire straight through me directly to my cock. I clenched my fists at my sides, trying to ignore the way my body was reacting to her defiance.
This wasn’t the time for those thoughts. There wasn’t ever a time for them. Marco was my best friend and his daughter deserved better than this.
Fuck. She needs to be taken in hand.
“Just hurry up and pack,” I said, turning away to give her some space. “We need to leave as soon as possible.”
“I’ll maybe go,” she said, her voice tinged with defiance, “but I have to do my makeup first.”
Before I could respond, she turned on her heel and headed toward the bathroom. I checked my watch, tapping it impatiently. The more she delayed, the more we risked being noticed by potential enemies, whoever they may be.
“Sofia,” I called out, trying to keep my voice steady, “what are you doing in there?”
No response.
I clenched my fists, my jaw tightening. She was pushing me to the edge, and I couldn’t afford to wait much longer. I took a step closer to the bathroom door, the sound of running water reaching my ears. My mind raced with thoughts of what could go wrong if we stayed here any longer. We could be attacked. A sniper could shoot her through the windows. They could be waiting outside to gun us down.
“Sofia,” I called again, louder this time, “we need to leave. Now.”
Still no response.
I glanced at my watch again, the seconds ticking by painfully slowly. The more she dragged her feet, the more it became clear that she might need a firmer hand to get moving. My instincts screamed at me to break down the door, to drag her out if I had to, but I forced myself to remain calm.
This wasn’t the time for brute force.
This isn’t the time to flip up that pretty skirt, pull down her panties, and redden her bare ass until she’s sore and sorry and soaking fucking wet.
My cock had a life of its own.
Then she called out a single word that changed everything.
“No.”
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