TILLY
It was a rare feeling to want to murder one of my own men. Since I had taken over St. Peterson Inc. after my father’s death, there were only a handful of times a few were executed. Mainly because they were rats, unable to obey what I told them to do, or flat-out useless.
In my line of business, I needed unquestionable loyalty and obedience.
And not to be interrupted.
Not after I finally had Tilly in my grasp and that sweet but sinful body that had haunted my dreams for almost an entire year.
An entire year of planning for this moment.
My d**k twitched from where it was pushed painfully against the zipper of my pants.
At the top of the stairs, the same set of stairs Tilly had sprinted down in a futile escape attempt, I turned to face my second-hand man.
“This better be
