Page 72 of The Silencer
I should burst in there, guns blazing, but I don’t know if he’d take that well.
I think perhaps something else is in the cards for him tonight.
Without knocking, I enter the room, surprised it’s unlocked. I see Anthony in bed, his back propped up against the headboard, shirt off, reading glasses on.
Oh my god, he wears reading glasses.
Why is he so ungodly hot all the fucking time?
I stare at him before focusing my mind. Yes, I remember why I’m here, and I’m very angry.
Very, very angry.
He’s going to sell his son off. Angel. My sweet, beautiful friend.
“Can I help you?” he asks, arching an eyebrow at me behind those hot as fuck glasses. He looks less mafia boss and more stern professor, and it’s doing things to my dick.
I swallow and nod. “Yes, yes you can.”
I turn my gaze and stare intently at the window. I will not glance at him, bare-chested and looking like a hot teacher while he’s in bed. If I do, then I won’t be able to get angry enough.
And I want to get angry. Very, very irate.
“Well then, what is it?”
“What is it? It’s…you’re going to marry Angel off to some Russian dude on the East Coast. I thought we’d been over this.”
I huff and fold my arms across my chest. I can see his reflection in the window panes and my dick gets hard. I turn to stare at the ceiling instead.
“Look at me,” he says, and I close one eye and peer over at him. Perhaps half my vision will help curb how insanely hot he is.
It does not.
I’m just as affected.
“Come here,” he says and then folds the sheets back and points to his lap.
I stare at him and shake my head. “I’m mad at you, Anthony.”
“Come here,” he says again, this time a little softer.
That gentle tone makes my feet move forward, and I come to a stop at the side of his bed.
His arm reaches out and he pulls me onto him, my legs straddling his bare thighs. He’s only wearing boxer briefs, and he looks absolutely delicious.
I’m at full-mast now, ready to set sail right into the palm of his hand.
His fingers slide to my bare hips and slip down below the waistband of my pajama bottoms. With a tug, I’m closer, my body almost flush with his.
“Now, tell me again why you’re so mad?” he asks, and I shift on his lap, my hands moving up to his shoulders. Oh god, I can feel the muscles there. I trace them with my fingers, biting my bottom lip to try and stay in control.
“You’re selling your son off for a business deal.”
“No, I’m marrying him off for his protection. That family is powerful. Angelo will be safe there.”
“But he’ll be married to a stranger. He’s always wanted to marry for love, Anthony. You have to know that.”
My eyes flicker down to meet his, and I see something flash in those dark depths. He feels it. I know he does. He loves his son, despite how hardened he outwardly appears.