Miko places a hand over his heart and offers me a theatrical, “Grazie.”
Thank you.
Laughter leaves us both, yet it’s him who decides to speak again when it fades.
“Come on, Beni. Life could be shittier than it is.”
“Once more, I stand by my earlier proclamation. Perspective.”
“Perhaps you need a new one.”
“Perhaps I need a reason for a new one.”
All of a sudden, a woman’s voice shouts in the hallway, “Then fucking shoot me already!”
Miko prepares to do just that the instant the door flies open revealing to me a sight even more unexpected than the disruption she was causing in the hallway.
The slender mocha-skinned female with long legs and even longer lashes instantly loots not only the air in my lungs, but the ability to speak I previously possessed. Her fit frame is cloaked in a sleeveless black and gray pantsuit with some sort of black frilly monstrosity hung around her neck like a tie, and the urge to tear it off to allow my hand to take its place is almost as abrupt as her entrance into the room.
And what I’m beginning to assume will be my life.
I take note of the coffee stain splattered on her patterned torso that either indicates carelessness – an unacceptable trait, or commitment – an admirable one.
Let’s hope it is the latter.
Wait.
Hope?
Did I…Did I actually say hope?
The member of security who failed in stopping her from entering barks, “I swear, I’ll shoo-”
“Stop fucking pretending that’s gonna happen,” she snaps on an annoyed eye roll. “If you were going to shoot, which was clear you weren’t from the minute you found me wandering around this Italian-themed palace someone has the balls to call a house, you would’ve done it by now. So, how about you stop pretending you’re going to do something you’re never going to follow through with and allow me to do what it is I came here to fucking do.”
Tone, temperament, and tenacity are a trifecta that’s too powerful to ignore.
Too powerful to deny.
Whether it be in a business setting or social, the combination is captivating.
It tends to be my favorite choice of a conversational knife.
I’ve never imagined what it would feel like to have the sharp edge turned my direction.
And now that the possibility is here, I can’t help but smirk over its pending sting.
Her big, bright brown eyes cut curious glances at me and Miko. While I do not approve of her oscillating stare, whatsoever, I don’t act upon it.
Though I’m tempted.
As in my cousin should consider himself privileged to be my cousin as it’s the only thing keeping him from having an injury that would remove him from the situation so that I would have all of her attention without worry.
“Mr. Bennett,” her voice states politely and professionally, yet still somehow sounds like a purr I want to spend the rest of my days hearing.
Causing.
“Benicio,” I swiftly insist, extending my hand her direction to shake.
The beauty flashes me a wide grin that immediately elicits a mindless groan. She tightens her grip on the file she’s holding while using her other hand to connect to mine. Her expectation for me to shake is swiftly disregarded by the kiss I place on the back of it. Masking my instinct to trail the kisses higher is instantly equal to that of concealing the miserable mood I’m in.
Difficult.
But not impossible.
The aggravated guard bites once again, “Miss-”
I lift the hand that momentarily held hers to hush him.
She doesn’t hesitate to smirk over the action. “Mr. Bennett-”
“Benicio.”
“Mr. Bennett,” the unknown woman continues to defy me causing my dick to thump against my zipper in a demand we fuck it out of her, “I need a private moment of your time.”
“Those who are privileged to a private moment of my time call me Benicio.”
“Is that all it requires to have a secluded audience with you?”
“Seclusion is an illusion we do not tend to entertain,” Miko suddenly speaks, hand still on his weapon. “And to be clear, miss, the only reason the guard behind you did not shoot, is because you’re a female. He assumes you pose no actual threat.” I watch him remove his holstered Beretta M9. “I’m not so idiotic.”
An unmistakable growl over his words and choice of action towards her appears in my throat; however, it isn’t given the opportunity to be exposed.
“If that’s the case then you should shoot him for being incompetent. It is unwise, irresponsible, and asinine to have such a belief that simply because a person has an extra set of lips between their legs rather than a dick that they are less dangerous. If anything, logically speaking, they are more. Unlike a man who may come at you directly, a female on a mission to kill may choose to come at you indirectly. Weasel her way into your life. Your bed. Your heart.” Her eyes pierce mine without mercy. “Only to then kill you when you are most vulnerable. They have no problem lying in wait.”
Perplexity over how anyone can be this turned on and this uneasy at the same time joins the list of foreign emotions skulking their way down my spine. “Then shoot him.”
Her fearless expression remains.
I gesture my hand at Miko to offer her his weapon.
Disbelief is hard to miss in Miko’s voice, “Stai...stai scherzando?”
Are you…are you joking?
“No.”
Another scoff is shoved in my face. “E se invece ti sparasse?”
What if she shoots you instead?
Is he joking?
What are the chances she’d march all the way up here in those strappy black high heels that belong pointed at my ceiling instead of clanking against my freshly scrubbed floors to make a big production on the off chance I’d put a weapon in her hands to be the one to kill me?
I have better odds on them reversing the decisions revolving around the sale of shark fins in this country.
Which is pathetically low.
And a shame.
I could save so much money if certain legislation makers would just open their ears.
Or pockets, to be more accurate.
Miko’s unwavering look of concern prompts me to pull the matching weapon I have holstered, cock it, and offer it to the woman instead. “Meglio?”