"Please," He begs, dropping down to his knees as he pulls my body closer. He rest his head on my stomach, breathing in my scent heavily as his hands tighten on my body.
"Please Malia, let me touch you. Let me feel you." He pleads, tilting his head...
Usually, I'm not the type to get obsessed after having intimacy with someone. Not that I have had sexual relations with anyone in the past seven years, which is probably why im acting like a fucking teenager right now.
Once she left to go back to her house, I was perfectly fine. I definitely wasn't demanding from Adrian that he had eyes on her at all times.
It's not a bad thing, okay. Just after my fucking morning feast I haven't been able to stop thinking about her smooth naked skin and warm thighs wrapped around my head.
Or how her breasts were so fucking beautiful when she came on my face.
Now, I regret that demand.
Why? Because now I'm on the fucking phone with Adrian as he rambles on about how Malia was currently laughing her ass off with a guy on her mothers yacht.
"Oh yea, there definitely getting cozy I'll tell you that." Adrian gritted out over the phone, no doubt about to shatter it into fucking pieces.
For some reason it's hard to believe he was talking about Malia in such a manner. I pace back in forth in my office, my head turning with ideas on how to not kill a man.
"Give me hourly reports. And quit brooding while Rhea talks to guys, you look like a imbecile." I huff out, ending the call before he can give me a snarky reply.
I had better things to deal with then trying to not get all possessive over a woman who has been my girl for over seven fucking years.
And it's going to fucking stay that way.
I sigh, clenching my jaw as I sit back in my chair. Work was fucking stressful for the past few days, just a bunch of threats and drop offs being scheduled. Threats from scrawny little 'mobsters' who thought they were the shit.
Even though their still living with their damn parents for God's sake.
Not only that but I had a match in the next two days that I had to be preparing for.
It's not that I care, it's just if I dont keep up with this damn boxing thing then I'll have police nocking at my door wondering how I'm a billionaire.
A knock sounds out from my door, Ruth's face peeks out with a sly smile. She walks up to the front of my desk, her long legs eating up the short space in seconds.
"How's the money laundering going?" She questions, leaning a hand on her hip. I roll my eyes in annoyance, it was going fucking great.
Definitely.
"Fuck off." I grumble out, earning a throaty laugh from her. "Just wanted to let you know that your father called, he wants to meet you." Ruth whispered out, the relaxed atmosphere immediately vanishing in seconds drastically.
You've got to be fucking kidding me.
____________________
"Sir," The armed man nodded, opening the door to my fathers dramatic ass office. It was really just fucking over the top. With dark victorian walls and vintage furniture that seemed to be collecting dust as we speak.
I stode into the room, the tight tie adorning my neck cutting off my circulation a little bit.
My father sat there in all his glory, a slight smirk painted across his face as he took a draw from his cigar. He looked like shit, the scar on his face seemed to worsen everyday. Not only that, but the room smelled like straight pot.
"You came, I didn't expect that." He drawled out, smoothing his jelled black hair to the side.
I stuffed my hands in my pockets before sitting on an old leather chair infront of his desk. The damn chair was tiny as fuck, I felt like I was at a four year olds tea party.
"The fuck do you want." I sighed out, already getting a headache from this intolerable human and his tiny ass chairs.
I need a fucking cigarette.
Dante stood up quickly, picking up a file from the top of his tall stack of files and slapping it infront of my face.
"We found him. He is in our custody as we speak." He began, tappin his desk frantically. "I'll give you credit on this one, I don't know how the fuck he's alive. Thought we drugged him up enough but guess not." He murmured.
I knew what he was talking about, I had asked him a couple weeks ago on information about the man who had broken into Hera's house.
He was reluctant to give me the information, but I threatend to shred light on his hairy dick as a 'anonymous' tip to TMZ.
It got him to oblige. Thankfully.
Just by the looks of the note, I was able to tell who it was right away. That fucking sloppy handwriting was always going to be remembered by me.
Kol Gambino.
The man who had fallen inlove with Hera, before she had conceived Malia.
I flipped through the file, a bunch of useless fucking words until I found a photo of him. Kol looked nothing like he used too, his youthful yet psychotic stare was now replaced with one of downright murderous intent.
"Fucking psycho." I muttered under my breath.
The reason why I had known who he was, is because he's my uncle. My uncle who has supposedly been dead for twenty years.
"Bring him to my headquarters. This meeting is over." I stand up, fixing my collar as I hand over the file back to him.
Hurriedly, I walked towards the door. I wasn't planning on staying long anyway with this prick, I had shit to do.
"Malia will never understand why you left." Dante blurted out behind me, his loud voice echoing through the spacious room.
I stop in my tracks, the wooden doors infront of me now fading away as my eyes filled with rage.
"She will never understand that you had to leave in order to save yourself. Such a selfish boy you were." His voice snapped aggressively, the clicks of his shoes coming closer.
His breath fanned over my ear, one that smelled fucking horrible by the way.
"She will never forgive you."
Dante had no idea what he was talking about, he never did. I didn't fucking leave to save myself, but to save her.
That was the whole reason I had left without a trace, because if I didn't then Dante would have realized something he never was supposed to.
Which was, that my mother was alive.
And hiding.
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