Total pages in book: 29
Estimated words: 27168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
But even with all my noble revenge, my baby sister vanished forever after that, replaced by a woman determined to never be hurt again.
Now, for a fleeting moment, I glimpse the girl I lost.
"Hey, if you like her, you like her." She turns back to business, the soft moment lost in a poof. "If she lasts longer than the last one, I'll be pleased. Right now, we need to discuss reprisals."
"Who?" I shift into work mode.
For the next hour, we strategize. Our empire operates like any business—with employees, rivals, investments, liabilities, profits, and losses. Money. Black market goods. Real estate. I stay away from drugs. Never touched the skin game. But there’s guns, too. Cars. Truckloads of ‘missing’ merchandise from any number of hot markets that might be trending at the moment. Also, making sure we keep the right people on our side. Judges. Cops. City officials.
Today's problem: a new gang, showing off, disrespecting us, encroaching on our territory. Violence isn't always necessary, but it's always an option.
"I still say we grab that douche one with the sparkly jeans, cut his balls off and send them to his mother. It sends a message." Ingrid doodles on her notepad as we talk, as usual. "These three guys are weak. We spank them, they'll get the—" She stops, staring past me, raising her pen and poking it in the air over my shoulder. "She's sleeping."
I turn to the monitor where Tabby lies curled on my desk, nose to tail, one hand shielding her eyes from the light. The filing job half-finished.
I laugh. It feels strange, like an appendage that’s been left unused for too long.
God, she's fucking perfect.
"Whoa. This is new. You're laughing and smiling." Ingrid looks stunned but happy. Light. "The Duffield I know would fire her ass so fast her feet—should I say paws?—wouldn't touch ground."
I shrug. "It's cute."
"Cute? Fucking cute? What are you, twelve?" She bristles. "You need to train her. Show her who's boss. Want me to do it? Woman to..." Her eyes narrow. "I'll make sure she knows she needs to—"
"Calm the fuck down," I interrupt. "She’s tired. If she needs a fucking nap, she gets to nap." I don't give a fuck. I only have her working to keep her near me. Mental note: order a human-sized cat bed. "Besides," I add, recalling Tabby's words, "you can't train a cat."
She gapes as I stand and start toward the door. "Can't train a... Where are you going?"
I ignore her, heading for my office while remembering the pet blankets we over-ordered last year. They're still stashed in storage.
Minutes later, I'm draping a pink furry blanket with blue embroidered tiny fish over my sleeping kitten. She makes a soft mewling sound, shifting without waking, and my cock instantly hardens.
She's impossible to resist.
I flick the lock on my door, text Ingrid to handle the Mackay brothers however she sees fit, and switch my intercom to "busy."
Standing over her sleeping form, I'm overcome with possessive hunger. Mine. All mine. I stroke her pink hair, marveling at its silky texture between my fingers.
She stirs but doesn't wake as I lean down, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent. My lips brush her exposed neck, tasting her warm skin.
"Kitty," I whisper against her ear. "Wake up."
Her eyelashes flutter, green eyes blinking drowsily. "Mmm?" Recognition sparks as she focuses on me. "Was I sleeping?"
"You were." My hand slides beneath the blanket, finding her waist. "Should I punish you for napping on the job?"
A slow smile curves her lips as she stretches, arching her back like the feline she embodies. "Punish me how?"
I capture her mouth, devouring her with unchecked hunger. She responds instantly, arms twining around my neck, pulling me closer.
"I've been wanting to do that since you curled up on my desk," I growl against her lips. "So fucking beautiful."
"You were watching me sleep?" She doesn't sound upset—more intrigued.
"I watch everything you do." My hand slides to her thigh, pushing her skirt higher. "Every move. Every breath."
She shivers, but her challenging gaze meets mine. "Creepy."
"Protective," I correct, fingers tracing the base of her tail. "No one touches what's mine."
"And I'm yours?" She bites her lower lip, feigning innocence while her small hand boldly slides down my chest, stopping at my belt.
"From the moment I saw you." I lift her, turning to sit in my chair with her straddling my lap. "Tell me you're mine, kitten."
Instead of answering, she latches onto my neck, teeth sinking into the tender flesh where my shoulder meets my throat. The pain shoots straight to my groin, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to bruise.
She pulls back, admiring the mark with satisfaction gleaming in her eyes. "Cats don't belong to people," she purrs. "People belong to cats."
I laugh, delighted by her defiance. "Is that so?"
Her fingers work at my belt, determination in every movement. "I'm marking my territory. You're mine now. I mean, I can only have one Daddy, right?"