Chapter 8
1287 Words
His family’s power. Edward Kramer loved that. And even more, he loved being the one to control that power, to grow it, to move it.
And now, he was on track to move it overseas to a whole new level. He was on a high from that.
As for this woman with the lightly tanned skin and beautiful lips, he liked her. Almost admired her. Of that much, he was sure.
With his free hand, he slid his finger down her flat belly, slowly, stopping just before the dark tuft between her shapely thighs. His eyes never left hers.
“Are you trying to call me old?” he murmured.
“No, my love. Just…wizened?” she replied naughtily.
He barked out a laugh. Then he grinned at her. “No crisis. Just a gift. For the most beautiful woman in the world, one far too long in coming,” he stated humbly.
Natasha Periladay, Baroness of Osterin Manor, from the European continent, lay back atop Lord Kramer’s chest. He adjusted his head against his arm.
“Very long,” she breathed.
“My gratitude to you, my love. For putting up with me. For supporting me,” Edward droned hoarsely.
She smiled sweetly. “If my Lord doesn’t get what he wants, I cannot abide it!” she declared, her pupils dilating.
Edward smiled back. “Again?” he mumbled, his own eyes dancing.
“What? Too much, my Lord?” she whispered, “Shall I get the tea?”
Edward’s arm came down. He drew her to himself. “Tea?” he droned, as her hand moved under the sheet. Her lips parted, a gasp escaping as her eyes widened.
Lord Kramer lay the Baroness on her back as his tongue found hers.
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“Tyler! Come in! Come in!” Lincoln called out from behind his office desk.
Tyler strolled into the brightly lit, well-apportioned office of the head mafia in Salvena City. It was almost midnight, yet the mafia boss looked like his day was just starting. And it probably was.
Tyler smiled. His first real smile, in front of a real person for that day.
“You have it?” Lincoln shot at him, all business.
“Here,” Tyler replied swiftly, handing his box of activated Junster to the mafia leader.
There were five other men in the room. Each one nodded to Tyler as he sauntered in, three of them leaving as the imposing young man with sleeked back hair and light eyes approached their boss.
“Mr. T.! Been a minute!” the taller of the remaining two men called out cordially.
“Harrison!” Tyler replied happily, “When did you get out?”
“Yesterday,” the man replied with a grin.
“And you didn’t come find me?” Tyler shot back, disappointedly.
“You’re here now, ain’t ya!” Harrison replied, still grinning widely.
Tyler laughed.
“How is Frank?” he asked flippantly.
“He’s still being a good boy. Still keeping his hands to his f*****g self. The one you left him, anyway,” Harry droned.
Tyler smiled again, shaking his head.
“Yeah, well, I was in a bad mood that day,” Tyler replied cryptically.
“Uh hun!” Harry murmured, his eyes laughing.
Tyler wiped the smile from his face as he turned to the second man. Lincoln’s number two. Amika.
“Ami,” he said respectfully, placing his right hand over his left breast and bowing lightly.
“You know, I can’t get over how polite you are to Myka when you’re never so sweet to me!” Lincoln called out, sounding offended.
“He knows where loyalties lie,” Amika rumbled, his dark eyes on Tyler, “after all, we’ve known each other longer.”
“But I’ve met him more often,” Lincoln fake complained.
“Yes,” Amika droned dismissively, lifting his large frame from the large sofa only he – ever – occupied.
He put a hand forward, and Tyler shook the man’s hand, bowing lightly again.
Amika was built like a brick house on legs, but the man was a mage. A true-blooded mage. His size was no hindrance to anything that needed doing.
As he shook the older man’s hand, Tyler smiled inwardly at the banter between his oldest supporters even as his blood tingled, as it always did when in Amika’s presence.
But he pressed his lips together, preventing the gasp that wanted to escape as that constant overwhelming feeling swelled in his heart, without any reason, just like with gems, that Amika was something very special, very different.
He always had the feeling that the large, forty-something-year-old man could be far, far, significantly, older than he appeared.
The young man turned back to Lincoln.
“How is our young heiress?” Lincoln tossed lazily at his young friend.
Tyler rolled his eyes. “I might need to go to HR sooner rather than later,” he stated dryly.
Lincoln and Harry laughed. Amika moved back to his chair, his eyes on Tyler.
The young man kept his focus on his sponsor.
“Here’s the information on the mistresses,” Lincoln stated neutrally, tossing a flat file on his desk, toward Tyler.
The young man picked it up as he sat in the opposite chair. Lincoln nodded at Harrison. The man moved to the office door and locked it.
Tyler flipped through the file slowly. As he went along, he pulled out some papers, placing them on the table. He repeated this process two more times.
Most of the papers from the file ended up on the table. Five sheets remained in the file.
He handed it back to Lincoln.
“These ones. Get me everything,” he said, almost brashly.
“See?” Lincoln commented lightly, his eyes moving between Harry and Amika, “See how he speaks to me?”
“He is the Master of the Miran Auction house, Boss,” Harry replied placatingly to Lincoln, his gaze on Tyler, whose eyes had gone distant.
Suddenly, Tyler stood, his clouded expression clearing. He smiled politely at Lincoln. “I should head out. Need to get a few last things,” he commented brightly.
“As for those,” he continued, nodding at the file in Lincoln’s hand, “I need your best men on standby. For all of them.”
“But let’s have the information first. Have three of your guys ready for me. Ages thirty to thirty-five. Nothing lower, can go slightly higher, but they need to look young enough to pass comfortably.”
Tyler’s hazel eyes were steady on Lincoln’s green ones.
“So…not Harry here?” Lincoln droned sarcastically.
Tyler glanced at Harrison, taking in the tall, boy-next-door type, well-built man who could not be thirty years old yet, then back to Lincoln. He eyed Lincoln, a thirty-something, ripped, fair-skinned, more than a little handsome gangster, slowly, up and down.
Amika shifted in his seat. Harrison burst out laughing. Lincoln’s eyes narrowed.
Tyler grinned. “No, Sir.”
Lincoln placed large fists on his desk as he leaned forward toward Tyler, the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulging under his long-sleeved formal shirt.
“You –” Lincoln shot back at Tyler.
“Tomorrow, Boss Brazer,” Tyler cut in breezily. “His birthday is next week, I don’t want an incomplete gift for the Lord.”
Lincoln straightened, his brow cleared. He nodded once.
Tyler nodded in return. He bowed to Amika, spun around, and tapped Harry on the shoulder as he sauntered out.
“That kid…he’s dangerous,” Amika droned.
“No s**t!” Lincoln commented quietly as he opened the file.
- Writer
