Page 29 of Mafia King's Ruthless Obsession

“Who said I want simple?” I grab her chin, tilting her face up, forcing those wild green eyes to meet mine. “A beautiful woman is just another chess piece until she learns to play the game. Consider this your reminder. I don’t share. Not with Antonov. Not with anyone.”

She lifts her chin like she’s daring me to break her. Her voice dips, low and taunting.

“And what exactly am I supposed to be remembering?” A whisper now. Her lips are a breath from mine, and her fingers curl tighter into my shirt. “That you’re possessive? Controlling?”

“You’re supposed to remember,” I lean in, brushing my mouth along the edge of hers, not kissing—hovering, “that testing me has consequences.”

Her breath shudders.

“Consequences like the other night?” she murmurs, voice laced with something between resentment and desire. “When you pushed me away, leaving me on the edge?”

The image slams into me—her lips parted, body shaking, my name half-sobbed into the silence. I could come from that memory alone.

“That,” I whisper against her throat, dragging my teeth along the delicate line of her pulse, “was punishment.”

I feel her shiver.

“This?” I trail my hand down her spine. “This is something else entirely.”

And fuck, if I don’t want to lose control again. Right here. Right now.

But I force myself back.

Control is survival.

Her face flickers—surprise, hunger, frustration, all twisting together in one perfect mask of fury and need.

“What this is,” she says, voice clipped and sharp, “issloppy. You can’t play guard dog every time a client gets handsy. The girls are already whispering. And when they start whispering, questions follow.”

The hit lands. Because she’s not wrong.

In defending her, I exposed something I never wanted seen—weakness.Attachment.

“Let them whisper,” I hiss, retreating behind my desk. I need the distance. The wood is a poor shield, but I use it anyway. “But you’re right.”

I pause.

“Time to redefine your position here.”

Her back straightens. Her expression shifts, and just like that, she’s all business. Unshakable. Like she hadn’t been seconds from surrendering to me.

“I assume you have a plan?”

“Your modeling background gives you…unique qualifications,” I say slowly, watching her. Measuring the shift in her posture, the tightness of her mouth. “Effective immediately: VIP clients only. Private rooms. Armed security.”

She blinks once. Her expression stays neutral, but her shoulders pull taut like a bowstring.

She knows exactly what I’m doing.

And she hasn’t decided whether she’s going to let me get away with it.

Those cat-green eyes narrow, sharp enough to bleed. “Hiding me won’t stop the rumors.”

“No,” I admit, tapping a finger against the security feed. The same camera she once thought she could outsmart. “But it keeps you exactly where I can see you.”

I let the pause stretch, let her remember every second she spent in my office, fingers where they didn’t belong.

“After your little detour through my files, we both know that’s necessary.”

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