2. Simon

It's rare to enter an employee's office and find an attractive woman on all fours under his desk, her sexy lacy panties on full display, her round ass and that lovely mound of her pussy aching to be grabbed with both hands.

It's even rarer to find her head in my fucking safe.

I almost feel sorry for her. She's petite, pretty, with light brown skin and full lips. I stare at that mouth for a beat, surprised by how pink and wet it is. Her eyes are dark, and her hair is a thick, creamy brown, slightly curly. Her chin tapers to a point, and I'm tempted to sink my teeth down and bite right where her jaw slides down to her throat.

I've noticed her before. She's been working at the restaurant for a few months now and I haven't heard about any problems with her. She's gorgeous, which means I'm sure she gets good tips, and I know Ethan treats his girls well.

Which makes me wonder why the hell she's trying to steal from me.

I can tell that she hit her head harder than she realizes. I get down on my knees beside her and check the top of her skull. "No blood," I say and gently touch her hair.

It's soft. Surprisingly soft, and very thick. I have a thing about hair, and this is beyond sexy. The way it waves, the texture, everything about it. I could sink my fingers into this hair and pull it tight, and I'm willing to bet the sounds she'd make would be like heaven.

She looks up at me with these wide doe-eyes, and I lick my lips.

I can't help myself. She's absolutely fucking stunning. I want to kiss her, explore her mouth with my tongue, let her moans vibrate into my throat. I want her back down on all fours, that dress pulled up, her panties shoved aside.

"That's good, right? No blood means no concussion?" She gives me an uncertain smile.

For a girl who's trying to steal from me, she seems weirdly innocent.

"Not necessarily. Maybe we should go to the hospital to be sure."

"No, that's okay, I'm totally fine." She tries to brush me away but I don't release her. "I'm good, I promise, I was just, uh, you know, I didn't mean to find your sex bag?—"

My eyebrows raise. "Sex bag?"

Her cheeks turn a beautiful shade of maroon. "I mean, you know, the blindfold, the ropes, the ball gag? It's totally fine, I'm not kink-shaming or anything. I really didn't mean to find it, that's all."

I stare, my heart racing. Now I can't help but picture her wrapped in those ropes, the gag in her mouth, the blindfold over her face. My cock sliding deep into her supple ass from behind.

This girl has absolutely no clue what that bag is really for, and I can't tell if it's adorable or frightening.

"If you weren't trying to find my sex bag, what were you doing under my employee's desk?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady, but I'm down on the floor next to this girl and I keep touching her hair, and it's driving me crazy. I have a job to do tonight—hence, the bag—and I really should get out of here.

Except I want to stay. I want to chew on her lower lip and explore the rest of her skin.

Too bad I have a million other responsibilities all screaming for my attention.

"I was, uhm, cleaning." She brightens at the obvious lie. The girl must be proud of herself. "Yeah, cleaning, that's all. We're closing, so I figured—hold on, did you say, your employee? You own this place?"

"Let's say my family owns this place and it's mine to manage. I delegate most of that work to Ethan." I lean closer to her and I love the way her breath quickens. I notice how her eyes rake down my body, down to my chest, back to my throat, lingering on my mouth. I wonder if she's thinking about those ropes around her wrists, her ankles tied together, her ass in the air. Her dripping, glistening pussy begging to be abused.

I'm fucking hard for a thief. This is absurd.

"Well, uh, I'm sorry about this, I really am. And thanks for checking on me, but I'm totally fine. No doctor needed."

She tries to stand up. I grab her arm and hold it, not letting her.

"No, topolina, I insist," I say and smile at the way she reacts to the nickname. It means little mouse, and I picture her scurrying around my floor, stealing crumbs. "Let me bring you to my family's doctor. We'll make sure you're safe."

"No, totally fine, no thank you." She tries to pull away and I'm tempted to keep this going, but there's a knock on the door behind us and Ethan appears.

"Uh, Mr. Bianco—" He stops, squinting down at me in shock. The girl goes completely still like she's been caught in the act, and I struggle not to smile. She's probably freaking out. "Emily? What are you doing in here?"

"Cleaning," she squeaks.

Silence falls over the room. Nobody believes her, and I should order Ethan to take care of this girl—she tried to steal from me, after all, there's no other reason she'd be digging through that safe—but there's something interesting about her.

And now I have leverage.

Sometimes it's better to show a little mercy.

"I asked her to sweep up crumbs. Isn't that right, little mouse?" I smile at her sweetly, and she grimaces as she nods, clearly confused about why I'm playing along.

"Right, uh, you don't have to worry about that, Mr. Bianco. If the office isn't clean enough, I'd be happy to take care of it." Ethan stares between the two of us and a smile presses against his mouth. The bastard's starting to form his own opinion about what's going on here, and hell, the little fucker's right about what I want but wrong about everything else.

"Very good." I stand up and drag Emily along with me. "Thank you for your help, topolina. You're dismissed."

"Okay, uh, sure. Thanks a bunch, Mr. Bianco." She hurries past Ethan and disappears around the corner.

My manager watches her go before turning to me with a smirk.

I hold up a hand before he says something stupid then bend over to lift my bag. Nothing's missing—that's good. I zip it up and sling it over my shoulder.

"I want everything you have on that girl," I say, staring at him in a way that suggests there will be no fucking jokes about this. "Full name, address, her friends, her Social Security number, everything. Do you understand? Have it ready for me tomorrow morning at open."

"Yes, sir." Ethan clears his throat. "Is she in trouble?"

"Don't concern yourself with that." I give him another long look. "Also, make sure you close and lock the fucking safe next time."

"Sorry, sir." He backs into the wall as I stride past him.

I catch a glimpse of Emily in the main dining room stacking chairs and working hard to avoid looking at anyone. She's probably wondering why I covered for her when we both knew what she was doing, and I'll let that simmer for a while.

I don't know what I want from her, not yet at least, but when I figure it out—she'll owe me.

And I'll take what I want.

I turn and leave the restaurant through the back door. Isaac's waiting next to the car for me. I toss the duffel into the trunk and it lands beside another bag, nearly identical, with the cash stuffed inside. That's probably what my girl was looking for.

"All good?" he asks when I get into the passenger seat. Isaac gives me his typical lopsided smirk as if he knows I was up to no good in there, but that's just his default look. I've known him for a very long time—he's my personal bodyguard, my top lieutenant, my most trusted advisor, and my best friend—and he's the only person in the world that would get away with that stupid fucking smirk.

"All good." I nod at the road. "We're behind schedule. If we want to catch and roast that fucker, we'd better get moving." He puts the car in drive and gets moving. "Also, tomorrow, I need you to pick up some information from Ethan for me. It'll be on a girl named Emily."

"A girl?" His eyebrows raise. "You got a thing for a waitress?"

"Something like that." I smile out the window and watch as Chicago flits past the car. "I might get to use my tools more than once this week. I'm feeling lucky."