“Don’t I know it,” I mutter under my breath.
“What was that?”
I ignore her and walk back to my chair, pulling it out and taking a seat. What the hell do I do about this shitty-ass situation? I fucking hate Felix. The man most certainly is the reason my dad is dead. He’s been the bane of my existence for as long as I can remember. If it weren’t for him, I never would have gotten into this shit to begin with. But when you plan to dance with the devil, you need money, and this was the fast way to get it.
I want to kill the man, but unlike him, I need confirmation. That’s the one piece that makes me different, and I won’t change that.
“Nothing.”
“You said something. Just spit it out,” she grits out.
“Nope.”
“You drive me crazy.” Her cheeks turn the color of a tomato as they puff out.
“Welcome to the club.”
“Your club isn’t someplace I want to be. You probably stuff drugs in your damn bears,” she spits back.
I cock my head to the side and actually smile.
“Is that what you think?”
She nods. She isn’t far off. Lorenzo—and Matteo, before he retired—used to take my shipment of pills and hide it in stuffed bears, but then I shut that shit down. Never sat well with me, but she doesn’t know that. I can’t wait to see the look on her face when I tell her what the bears are actually for.
“Are you curious about the bears?” I tease. Her eyes narrow. She’s not enjoying this. But I will. “I’ll make sure to take pictures.”
“Pictures?” Her shocked face is comical. She reminds me of a cartoon. I almost expect her pupils to bug out of her face.
“Of the children.” I deliberately talk slow and casual, just to taunt her.
“The children?”
“The children at the center for kids where they are donated at our Christmas in July party that’s a few months away.”
There it is, and I can’t help but feel smug as her head shakes in dismay. She catches herself fast and rights the look.
“And the money?” She quirks a brow.
“Well, that’s exactly for what you think the money buys.” Her mouth drops, and this time, I can’t help but laugh.
Full. Out loud. Laugh. Something that rarely happens. Something about this lady knocks me completely off my game. And now, I guess I’m going to a fucking gala just to keep an eye on what’s mine.
18
Skye
Teddy bears for kids . . .
The man has a heart, and I don’t like it one bit.
Yet I can’t help but feel warm and fuzzy over that fact.
“Come on. Despite you being late, we have stuff to go over together,” he says, and I welcome him speaking so I don’t have to contemplate why I think the fact that the man isn’t all bad. However, regardless of everything, I still feel the dig of his comment, but I don’t let it get to me. Nor do I want to bring up the whys again. Tobias will go all caveman on me again. A reaction I was not expecting at all.
Then why did I like it?
Yep. That’s the worst part about it.
While he was basically banging his chest with his hand and saying he has to protect me, I was imagining what it would be like if he did. And in all my thoughts . . . he was naked.
Not good, Skye. Not good at all.
Now I’m sitting across the desk from him, a vase filled with spring crocus’s taunting me from across the surface, all while he’s showing me files on investment properties he intends to buy in Miami.
But not the normal investment properties.
This will cost a fortune.
These are full-fledged high-rise buildings in Brickell.
The air in the room feels heavy as I flip through each document. It’s way too quiet in here.
I almost want him to speak again, but at the same time, I’m not sure I can handle it if he starts spouting stuff that makes my lady bits get excited.
Why is a protective male so damn hot?
Maybe because you have daddy issues.
How cliché am I?
Apparently, very.
I shuffle in my chair to get comfortable and stop thinking about my lady bits when, of course, my leg grazes his under the table.
I try to move away, not to touch him, but dammit, it does the opposite. Now my damn foot is touching his foot.
If he notices, he doesn’t let on. He’s unaffected by our touching feet. Me, on the other hand . . . well, let’s just say the temperature in this room has increased tenfold. It’s a freaking sauna in here. My cheeks are burning, and I want to rip my blazer off because I’m so hot.
Looking up from the document in front of me, I sneak a peek at Tobias. He doesn’t even notice. His eyes are trained on his phone. His fingers work to type back a message to whoever texted him. I watch as those fingers move, at the way his arms flex. His shirtsleeves are rolled up, and the veins in his forearms show. I bet those arms would feel great wrapped around me from behind.