ANTHONY
Fuck.I try not to curse in front of clients, but Mads is driving me insane.
If I'm one hundred percent honest, I don’t hate our little back-and-forth, but I wish he’d let me do my job. I don’t think he realizes how important he is to Luca and, by extension, me.
Meanwhile, Mads looks thrilled that I’ve lost it a little. “So, what’s the overblown scenario in your head, Anthony? Do you imagine if someone recognizes me, they’ll turn an entire train full of New Yorkers against me?”
“Frankly, yes.”
He tsks, then straightens my lapel, even though it’s perfectly in order. I don’t outwardly acknowledge what that flirtatious move does to my cock, even if I’m two seconds away from embarrassing myself.
All I know is this never happened to me before I met Mads. Ever since I was old enough to know that my looks could be used against me, I have sought to control every element of my body, down to the most minute facial expressions.
Something as dangerous as attraction has to be carefully contained, given an on/off switch to help keep my head in the right space. Perhaps it sounds extreme to some, but doing so helped me avoid the life I was almost forced into, the life Luca saved me from. But with Mads, that switch has been jammed in the on position ever since our first poker night.
It’s frustrating as hell.
“You must not read the newspaper very often, Anthony. New Yorkers love me. Because I keep it real, I keep it humble-ish, and I give back to the community. And I am vocal about workers’ rights. Somebody tries to hurt me on the subway, and I’ll bet you the cost of those trackers Luca just bought that I’ll have a car full of people at my back.”
“I will not be taking your bet,” I say, getting into his space. Needing to hammer home the importance, I lean down so my face is in his. “I swear to God, Mads. If I find out you’ve gotten on the subway again, I will tell Luca.”
He opens his mouth, shocked. “Shit, Anthony. Pulling out the big guns.”
I like the way he says my name.
No, I don’t.
I push my finger under his chin, closing his mouth and trying not to imagine what he tastes like.
“Mads, I’ll use every weapon in my arsenal to make sure you’re safe, whether you like it or not. You are very important to Luca. These little card games we play together? It’s the only time he gets to be himself. He gets to put away the persona and just…be. And if he knew you’d taken the subway over here today, he would read you the riot act.”
Mads play-grimaces, still joking around too much. “That sounds unpleasant.”
I drop my voice to a whisper, forcing him to lean in. “You’ve never seen him as a mobster, Mads, and I can promise you never want to.”
He sucks in a deep breath and looks up at me, his big brown eyes luminous. He rubs his chest, then nods. Good. Finally, something approaching seriousness.
“I will drive you home tonight after the card game. And then we'll get a driver for you.”
He shrugs, looking rather sheepish. “I have a driver.” He gestures offhandedly. “I have a car, actually. Fuck, my building has an attached garage.”
“That reminds me—where you live, you own the whole building, right? All five floors are yours?”
“Yeah.”
“Do you have twenty-four-hour security in your building?”
He sneers, completely dismissive of the entire concept of actual fucking security. “Of course not. That's ridiculous. The security people I have now are on call, and I already have security at the office. I don’t need people in my home.”
Bullshit.
“You mean the worthless security team that you had. I’ve already informed them I’m taking over.” He opens his mouth, likely to complain, and I hold up my finger. “I don’t want to hear about it.”
I take out my phone and make sure there’ll be bodies there before we arrive tonight. “What's the ground-level access to your building like?”
He lets out a sigh. “Pretty high security. I’ve got a killer system and a solid metal door.”
“How do you gain entry?” I ask, knowing I’ll hate whatever his answer is.