Page 46 of Ruthless Mr. Ricco
A familiar man opens her door and greets her with a hug.Fury hazes my periphery, so I lean closer to the screen and watch in silence as he pulls her into the apartment and shuts the door behind them.
Recognition slams through me.I’ve only seen him once before when he brought her flowers in the office lobby during her lunch break on her first day of work.
Jealousy eats at my insides.Just before I turn away to demand a key to her apartment—I don’t care how much I have to spend or how many laws I must break to get in there, she won’t spend another second alone with the stranger—her door opens and three people step into the hall.Brook, her mother, and the man she keeps hugging despite the wicked things she did to me with her mouth in the dressing room.
I thank the security guard and toss him an extra wad of cash on my way out the door.After lurking in the hall for a few minutes, I follow the party of three through the lobby and out into the streets, waiting until I’m certain they won’t catch me through the windows before joining the boisterous Saturday night crowd.
They walk with Brook in the middle and link their arms together as they weave through the chaos and chatter happily together.Ice forms in my gut at the carefree expression on my little rabbit’s profile as she listens to the man every time he chimes into the conversation.
I grit my teeth and duck into the nearest alley when they turn into a little hole-in-the-wall restaurant.The last time I visited a place like this was after I refused my parents’ money and was living off one-dollar slices of pizza before my business took off.
Nostalgia rolls through me as I walk through the door even though I’ve never been to this restaurant.The chaotic, lively atmosphere brings back the drive to overcome any and all hardships.Fueled by rage and a need to prove my worth, I longed to stand out from the crowd.
Now I do everything I can to blend in as I spy on my wayward little rabbit.I choose a spot on the long bench for singles along the wall with a decent view of their table and seethe as they enjoy themselves.Despite their relaxed postures and animated discussion, they keep their hands to themselves.Unless they’re playing footsie under the table where I can’t see them, they don’t openly flirt.Probably because Brook’s mother tagged along.
Panic seizes my heart.
Is this a family dinner?Is this the man she changed her last name for?
Did Brook Simons make me an adulterer?Has she been playing me all along?
They don’t seem overly affectionate, but my little rabbit looks at him as though a halo hovers over his head, so I doubt she’s using me to get out of an unhappy marriage.
Goddamnit, I still have too many unanswered questions.
When Brook excuses herself and heads down the hall to the toilets, I duck into a darkened side room and wait.The moment she steps into view, I swing her through the doorway and pin her against the wall with my bulk.I clamp my hand over her mouth, cutting off her scream, and angle my face into the light streaming from the bathroom.
She stops trying to gouge my eyes out when she recognizes me, but murderous rage shines from her eyes, so I wait until she calms down to lift my hand away from her face.
“Let go of me,” she hisses.
I wrap my hand around her throat and trail my fingertips up her side.
“No.Not until you agree to break up with him,” I snarl.
She pauses and lifts a quizzical brow.
“Break up?”
“Yes,” I tighten my fist around her throat and grind my hard cock against her softness.“Break up.Divorce.Whatever it takes to end your relationship with him.”
She shakes her head.I sneak my hand under her shirt and push her bra up to cup her bare breast.Her gasp arrows straight to my balls.
“Break up with who?”she shudders.
“The schmuck at the table,” I hiss and tweak her nipple.
I cover her yelp with my hand.She bites hard enough to sting.I curse and spear my fingers into her hair.She aims furious eyes at mine.
“The schmuck at the table is my mom’s husband, not mine,” she says.
Her words pierce through my mania.I still and study her face.
“What?”I ask.Certainly I misheard her.
“I’m not married.That man is my mom’s second husband.”
I loosen my grip on her breast.Her heart pounds against my palm.
