Chapter Twenty

STEPHEN

I was sitting there, still in shock at what had just happened.

Never—~never~—had I let someone take full control of me like that. I was the first to admit I was a total control freak, but something about the dominance in my baby girl had me so turned on. It wasn’t just physical—it was soul deep. She had me completely undone. I swear, if I didn’t get a release soon, I was going to blow a gasket.

Still kneeling on the floor in front of her, worshipping the goddess Trinity was, I reached up and grabbed her hips, pulling her body into mine. Wrapping my arms around the backs of her thighs, I cradled her beneath her ass and pressed my face into her stomach, holding her like a lifeline. I never wanted to let go.

Her fingers slid into my hair, softly stroking through the strands. Then both hands cupped my cheeks, guiding my face up to meet hers. She leaned down, her lips pressing to mine with such tenderness, such slow-burning passion, it nearly broke me in half.

I squeezed her tighter, anchoring myself in her.

After a few minutes, I felt calm enough to shift from ravenous to reverent. I rose slowly, wrapping my hands around her back, reaching for the clasp of her bra.

“What are you doing, babe?” she asked softly.

I responded by pressing my hips into hers, my mouth finding the crook of her neck. “Isn’t it obvious?” I murmured against her skin. “I need to be inside you.”

“Not now.” Her tone was teasing, but resolute. “Our friends are waiting for us outside.”

I shot upright, eyes narrowing at her, deadpan. “What?”

Then came the smirk.

And that’s when it hit me—my doll could play the game just as well as I could. Maybe even better.

“Daddy’s just going to wait until we get home,” she taunted, “and you know why?”

I clenched my jaw.

“Because that’s his punishment for touching when I didn’t say he could.”

My mouth dropped, floored. Was she ~serious~?

“Okay, babe. You got me. That was good. Now please … take the rest of your clothes off.”

I reached for her, pulling her in again, but she braced her palms against my chest, stopping me cold.

“Who’s being funny?” she countered.

And then, with an absolutely evil little grin, she turned around and began pulling her jumpsuit back on.

“Babe,” she tossed over her shoulder, “I’m going to need you to zip me up.”

“Yeah,” I scoffed. “I will not do that.”

“Stephen Luciano Gotti,” she said firmly, and fuck, it hit me right in the groin. “If you expect anything later—tonight or even tomorrow—you’ll come over here and zip me up. Do I make myself clear?”

Goddammit. The full name and commanding tone? I was done. This woman owned me.

I grumbled, but stepped up and took the zip between my fingers, the other hand smoothing out the soft fabric and fastening it in place.

“Thank you,” she said sweetly, as if she hadn’t just left me hanging by a thread. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”

Defeated, aching, and head over heels in love, I followed my goddess out through the dim hallway and back to our friends.

The moment Clint spotted us, he leaned forward and fired the first shot.

“Didn’t you say you weren’t a one-pump wonder?”

The cocky smirk on his face had me ready to shoot back—but Trinity beat me to it.

“That would imply I gave him something to pump,” she replied with a wink, tapping me on the chest before sliding into the booth. “He still needs to earn that.”

“Yes, girl!” Mia howled, reaching out for a high five. The two of them shared a conspiratorial grin.

I dropped down next to Trinity, sighing as the boys tried to hold back their laughter. Clint patted my back like he was paying respects at a damn funeral. They knew. They all fucking knew the pain I was in.

We knocked back a few more drinks, but my mind was a million miles away—back in that office, watching her strip for me in that green lingerie. I was dying. The throbbing in my jeans hadn’t eased even slightly.

“Baby,” she leaned in, voice teasing, “if you keep sulking, I’m just going to take you home.”

“That’s exactly why I’m sulking—do it.”

“You won’t like it if we do it that way,” she said, her fingers gliding up my thigh with agonizing slowness, toward my still painfully swollen cock. “Because you’ll be going straight to sleep until you can show me better manners.”

“Yes, doll,” I groaned. I knew my place.

I pulled her into me, an arm wrapped around her delicate frame, kissing the top of her head. Even if I didn’t get what I wanted tonight, having her this close was a gift in itself. And deep down, I knew my doll would take care of me … eventually. She always did.

***

^Three Months Later^

We were a month out from Clint, and Mia’s wedding, and everything was coming together. Final fittings, rehearsals—the works. Clint was buzzing with excitement, and honestly, so was I. That woman owned him completely, the same way Trinity had me wrapped around her finger.

Clint and I were still the only ones who knew about the rat. Our baits had helped narrow it down, and now I was about to brief him on what came next. But first, I had to take in the view in front of me.

My doll, asleep in our bed, her gorgeous chocolate brown hair splayed across my pillow, the sheets hugging her curves like they were made for her. She looked like a goddess. No—she was one.

I leaned in and kissed her gently. “I love you,” I whispered, before slipping out of the room to let her rest.

Her workload had been insane lately. Between new listings and back-to-back open houses, Trinity was clocking ten-hour days, barely making it home by eight. It gave me a solid excuse to take extra care of her—and I fucking loved doing it.

I stepped into the kitchen just as Clint shuffled out of their room, bleary-eyed and rubbing his face.

“Morning,” I nodded at him.

“Morning, boss,” he yawned. “Coffee?”

“Already on it,” I said, pouring two mugs. “Spliff?”

“Absolutely.”

We took our drinks outside and lit up, enjoying the silence.

“You alright?” he asked, squinting at me. “You look more wired than usual.”

“Just tired,” I exhaled. “Not sleeping that well.”

“And your girl’s not sorting that out for you?” he quipped with a shit-eating grin.

“What says she isn’t the cause?” I smirked, lifting my mug.

“Well played, boss.” Clint chuckled, conceding the point.

We finished our drinks and smoke, then headed down to the office. I already knew Clint wasn’t going to like what I had to tell him next.

Once inside, I sat down heavily and ran both hands through my hair. I needed a second. Clint caught on fast.

“Rip the bandaid off already,” he grunted. “Let’s have it.”

“The whole point of setting the baits was to isolate where the stock was going missing,” I began.

He nodded. “Yeah. Go on.”

“I’ve pinpointed—based on the last batch—where exactly the problem lies.”

“Carry on,” he said, waving a hand at me, clearly impatient.

“Clint, you will not like what I say next.”

He opened his mouth to cut in, but I stopped him with a look and a raised hand.

“I need you to keep your shit together. We only have one shot at dealing with this—and we have to get it right. One wrong move and this could blow up in our faces.”

“I’m calm,” he said, hands open, tone measured.

I raised a brow. “Are you?”

“I’m good. Honest.”

We both knew that was a stretch.

“Well…” I leaned forward, locking my eyes on his. “I’ve ruled out the warehouse boys.”

I waited.

One…

Two…

Three…

There it was.

“Fuck!” Clint erupted, slamming both palms down on the desk. “That leaves…”

“Myself. You. Dave. Chad. And Mike.”

“Fuck!” he shouted again, sending a folder flying across the desk as he stood abruptly. The chair scraped across the floor, loud and jarring.

“Clint!” I snapped. “Turn it down. We don’t want to draw any attention to this.”

He glared, but he sat back down, fists pressed into his palms as he tried to rein himself in.

“Is there anything else I need to know?”

“Yes.”

His head snapped up like I’d just dropped a grenade in his lap, that fire in his eyes reigniting.

“I’ve tracked it back. I went through every last record to isolate the shifts where stock started going missing.”

“And?” he asked, voice low, tight.

“Well, I’m not going to steal from myself.”

“Fair,” he muttered, already ticking names off in his mind.

“And you—” I pointed at him. “I’ve known you my entire life. I came to you the moment this all started. If you were the leak, you’d have ghosted before the heat even got near you. You’re too smart to sit still in a burning room.”

Clint let out a small breath, half scoff, half exhale. “Was that a compliment?”

I laughed. “Take it however you like.”

“So that leaves three.” The humour died on his lips the second the words left them.

“Two,” I corrected.

He frowned. “Dave, Chad, and Mike…” he counted on his fingers. “That’s three.”

“If Mike were involved, don’t you think you would’ve noticed something?”

I let the silence hang between us.

“Come on, Clint. You’re sharper than that. You know Mike better than anyone—hell, you trained him. You’d have picked up on a tell, a hesitation … something.”

“I’m not quite following,” he admitted, sitting forward, brow furrowed. “So you don’t think Mike is involved?”

“No. You’re the only one he’s been on shift with since this started.”

I let that sink in, and sure enough, I saw the moment it landed.

Clint’s body shifted, the tension settling into something colder, more precise. The soldier in him took over.

“I deliberately kept the rotations the same,” I continued, “so I could trace the thefts to exact overlaps. Eliminate the variables.”

He nodded, the pieces finally fitting.

“And then there were two,” he muttered, his voice low and dangerous. That grin—the one I’d only ever seen before shit got ugly—curled at the corners of his mouth.

“Dave and Chad.”