Page 3 of Owning Emma

“He’s my family,” the girl bit back like that explained everything.

“And he’s mine.” Roman gave her a gleaming smile, which was borderline predatory as he tilted his head toward me. The girl's head turned in my direction, the piercing blue a shocking contrast to her dark hair. Her eyes roamed my body, starting from my feet and ending in a staring contest when she reached my full six-feet-five inches of height.

She swallowed hard, and the image of her swallowing with my cock between her lips had my heart rate rising. She moved her eyes back to Roman. “Would you rather him give me to Krank? To work off his debt?”

If I weren’t standing shoulder to shoulder with Roman, I would have missed the stiffening of his body at the thought of Cardigan working off her father’s debt with Krank. “What do you have for leverage? What can I have that will ensure me you will pay off your debt to me, Mike? Titles? Stock? Bonds?”

Mike’s head bowed in shame. “Nothing. I sold it all before reaching out for help.”

“So, I’m supposed to just trust you will pay me back?”

“He will pay you back.” Shot the little Cardigan for behind Mike, who at this point I could only assume was her father.

I saw Roman’s eyes fall to her tits, then back at her face. “I will need a little more reassurance than your word, Buttercup.”

She got visibly flustered and red at the use of a pet name, and the satisfaction of causing it practically poured off Roman in waves. “My word is all we have.”

Usually, I would let Roman handle his own affairs, but the allure of Cardigan was too much to pass up, and although Roman would fucking hate me for it at the moment, he would most definitely thank me for it later. I needed more of that sassy mouth, preferably wrapped around my skin in a warm suction, but for the moment, I would take the amusing tension she brought out in the big guy.

“Why don’t we take you as our leverage?” I offered. Okay, it was more of a suggestion. She probably felt like it was more of a threat.

The atmosphere in the room became instantly uncomfortable, especially when the meaty Mike stepped forward like he could take me on. I could handle all of him with one hand tied behind my back. I held my hands out in front of me in a non-threatening manner and avoided looking directly into the daggers Roman was shooting at me with his eyes. “Hear me out.”

“I’m listening,” Roman said, but his stare screamed his anger and said my outburst better be fucking good because he was ready to go rounds with me.

“We need someone on the compound to help Dot clean, cook, keep things in order. She could work off some debt while you work on the rest.” All eyes were on me. The silence became more than uncomfortable.

“I need her here in the bakery,” Mike finally spoke.

I tried not to laugh at the poor guy. “Ah, well. You might not have a bakery for that much longer, anyway.”

“Is that a threat?” Mike's brows pulled with anger.

“Facts man, just facts. You owe Krank, you owe us, and I’m damn sure you owe a hefty amount on the mortgage. She could still help here part time or whatever. Just, you know, when she’s not drawing pink flowers on cakes or whatever shit she does, then she’s ours.”

“Absolutely not.” Mike crossed his arm, a tone of finality about it.

“I’ll do it.” Cardigan stepped forward, defiance undermining her father’s declaration.

Roman looked to me then the girl, his not too pleased expression told me he wasn’t in agreement, but he was backing me anyway. “Fine, pack your bags. We’ll send someone in an hour to get you.”

“Pack my bags? Where am I going?” Her crossed arms pushed against her breasts, and my mouth watered with the desire to taste them.

“To my place. Did you think I could just leave you here as my employee, knowing that Krank had already missed his chance at you?”

Roman didn’t wait to hear her response. Instead, he turned around, pushing the door with those damn motherfucking bells way harder than necessary and exited, not even bothering to see if I followed. He didn’t stop until he reached his motorcycle, then turned around and pushed his palms as hard as he could into my shoulders. “You better know what the fuck you are doing, this is your mess, and you handle it.”

Without another glance, he hopped on his bike and took off without even bothering with his helmet.