Page 26 of Devour
The police report. Edited. The official verdict? A “private dispute turned violent,” no ties to any gang. Two unnamed suspects, both dead. Case closed. Neat. Quiet. No connection to Falcone's name. The club’s damage? Already fixed.
Dominic dropped the news this morning. Now, I wait. Wait for the right moment to make Romano pay. When it hits, they won’t see it coming. For now, I turn my focus to what’s right in front of me.
Arie.
Charts dance on the screen, but I don’t see them. Not really. My eyes are glued to the woman beside me, still refusing to wear the clothes I sent. And damn it, that pisses me off more than it should. She doesn’t even know I’m watching her every move.
Her fingers tap the keyboard with a delicate rhythm; eyes locked on the laptop. My men report nothing suspicious, but I know better—she’s hiding something. I’ll wait. Alessio’s digging. He’s never missed a mark.
I can’t stop looking at her. I catch myself memorizing details that have nothing to do with my suspicions that she might be a spy.
That loose bun she always wears. Drives me insane. I like seeing her neck exposed, imagining my hand clamped around it, pulling her close, bending her to my will. But I also crave the wild when her hair falls free—messy, untamed.
A stray lock brushes her face, and I nearly reach out to tuck it back behind her ear, almost losing myself there. But I caught myself.
She pushes the hair back on her own, keeps typing, clueless about the storm raging inside me. I missed her yesterday. Almost called before I remembered it was Sunday.
Is she with someone else? Did she spend the weekend wrapped up in another man’s arms? Fuck. I should have made her come; she won’t get a choice.
She’s mine for as long as I want her. Her pussy, her mouth, her ass, every sound she makes when I’m inside her—all mine. I’d burn this whole city down before I let anyone else lay a finger on her. Not even in my thoughts.
“Goddamn it. She’s taking up too much space in my head.” A low growl escapes me. Mr Allen froze mid sentence, thinking I’m pissed at his proposal.
“If you don’t like it, sir,” he stammers, “I can… revise it.”
Silence falls. All eyes lock on me except Ariel, who remains completely unfazed by my outburst. “Continue,” I say flatly, edged with quiet authority.
Her phone vibrates on the table between us, but she’s too focused on what she’s typing to notice. My gaze flicks to the screen.
I catch the caller ID. My baby, with two purple hearts. I go still. A cold, lethal calm washes over me. I suddenly wantto murder someone. Slowly. Thoroughly. Everyone in the room becomes irrelevant, a blur in the background of my fury.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ariel
Seeing him at work in a suit always feels different, but I know underneath all that polish, he’s a monster.
Do his staff even know what kind of business their boss is really into? Do they have any idea there’s a monster lurking beneath that tailored suit? And then my dirty mind rears its ugly head.
A monster who fucks you whenever he pleases and you let him. I inwardly roll my eyes at myself as I keep typing, though I have no idea what I’m even typing. My mind is completely elsewhere.
I just want this meeting to be over. I can barely hear what Mr. Allen is saying over the noise in my head. I feel like a bundle of nerves, sitting this close to Luca. It’s taking everything in me not to let it show how tightly wound I am.
How aware I am of his presence. How every inch of me feels like it’s under surveillance. I can’t help but wonder—did his men follow me to the hospital? I was careful.
I really tried to lose them. I even jogged. Jogged. I can’t remember the last time I jogged. I’ve already rehearsed a few excuses in case he asks.
I could say I went to check on a friend…Luca’s deep, rumbling voice suddenly cuts through the air like a blade.
“Meeting’s over.”
My fingers freeze on the keyboard. My chest tightens. Did he find out? Did he think I said something to the police? Did his men actually follow me? Am I busted?
“Everyone out.”
I let out a small breath. He meant everyone—so maybe it’s not about me. Probably just some mob business. I quickly shut the laptop and stood, clutching it to my chest. I reach for my phone, ready to follow the others scrambling out the door.
“Ariel. Stay where you are,” he says—his voice sharp, final, and brooking no argument.
