Page 122 of Kneeling to Candy

Piero reclaims his seat, letting Duffy and O’Conall know the time for talk is over. He snaps his fingers. “Chop. Chop. I don’t have all evening.”

Duffy hustles from the room, rushing to get the show on the road.

O’Conall doesn’t move. His lips quirk upward, his eyes roaming all over me like a perv in heat.

Slowly, he backs away as he says, “Knife play—I like it. I think you’ll enjoy working with us as much as I look forward to getting to know this new version of you.”

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

CÚ SIDHE

Exiting the private suite where my little pet remains, I close the door before I sag against the wood, releasing the air from my lungs like it’s been trapped inside me for years. I guess in a way it has, like I metaphorically could not breathe until she returned.

The search is over. I’ve found her.

My Leslie is back—sort of.

My teeth grind together as I recall the scarred bodyguard with the ghastly voice kneeling at Leslie’s feet, gazing at my pet like she was a deity to behold.

Sharing never bothered me, not when I was calling the shots. This is different, though. One, I’m not calling the shots. And two, this territorial bodyguard—her boy, as she put it—is Leslie’s choice.

Not being her preference vexes me more than I care to admit. Funny, since what she wanted before never mattered. So why does it matter to me now?

When the answer hits me, I grimace. Jealousy is not an emotion I wear well. Having a partner was never something I wanted. Seeing Leslie with her sub has slayed me, showing me the type of relationship we should have together, with her being the one on her knees.

Yet here she is, stepping into my position, and finding her own sub, like she has every right to.

My knuckles crack as my fingers curl into fists, slightly shaking with the urge to lash out at something—at someone.

How dare she!

How dare she move on while I’ve essentially remained stagnate, unsatisfied with every fuck since she vanished.

Fuming, my common sense fights against the rage licking up my spine, reminding me I can’t barge back inside and haul her over my thighs to teach her a lesson in respect. Nor can I take her right out from under the don’s nose without Leslie’s bodyguard interfering. Fucker nearly dislocated my shoulder.

Not to mention the way Leslie handled that knife…

Catching myself subconsciously rubbing my neck in the same place Leslie held the blade against her sub’s throat, I quickly drop my hand. I scoff, scolding myself for letting my little pet intimidate me.

Thinking back to the moment, my brows knit tightly together. It was odd. Leslie never showed violent tendencies before. Her lover’s voice proves otherwise.

Years under Lorenzo Bianchi’s leadership made monsters of the most ordinary men who associated with his mafia. Why would a woman under the same circumstances be different?

The idea of my little pet having a taste for violence unexpectedly pleases me. Who would have guessed her fire would turn me on? Makes snuffing it out more exciting.

My lips curl upward. Yes, Leslie will make a superb bedroom and business partner as long as I can confiscate her.

The bodyguard will need to be dealt with first if I have any hope of collecting Leslie. Based on his size and the strength he exhibits, fighting the bodyguard off isn’t a feasible option. Shooting him would work if he was solo, but there’s an entire entourage of guards surrounding Leslie to take his place.

If there was only something that could lure Leslie away from her bodyguard’s side. She won’t come willingly without a good reason. And her guard won’t let her go alone. I need something to bait her while distracting him.

With time against me, I desperately search my brain for a solution before my phone vibrates in my inside breast pocket. I retrieve my cell to find a text from our lead handler in the basement.

The merchandise is ready to be brought upstairs.

The answer is obvious—I want to smack myself for not automatically realizing it. A plan forms in my head, my confidence growing as the details fall into place.

Mo pheata revealed she’s concerned about the quality of our merchandise, reminding me of the care she showed the other women who looked to her for direction when in imprisonment. Whether it’s the state of the women’s appearance or a genuine concern for their safety does not matter to me. What matters is, she feels protective of these women.

---