After the guests departed, except for the two brunettes waiting in the bedroom and his manager, Mike flopped into the first chair in the living room. “Did you hit on her?” He rested one foot on top of the other on the empty chair next to his, staring up at his manager.
James half-smiled, his drunken eyes now alert. “Who?”
“You know who.”
James chuckled. “The kid?”
“Don’t fuck with me. The way you’ve been ogling her all night says she’s no kid to you.”
“Yeah. Have you seen that ass? That girl’s got meat on her bones. One fine Italian—”
“James!” Mike’s feet dropped to the floor.
“What?” He glowered.
“You can’t talk about her like that.”
He stared at Mike for a while before he took a step forward. “Why the fuck do you care?”
“I care because…she’s Andrea’s daughter.” Mike stood, his voice rising. “When it comes to Maggie you need to keep your fucking eyes, hands, and dick to yourself, do you hear me?”
James’s brows furrowed. “All right. Jeez.” He looked at the ceiling. “Wow.”
Mike placed his hands on his hips. “What now?”
James tilted his head at him. “I didn’t think…” He held his hands up. “Never mind, Mickey. I get it.”
Mike approached him. “If you have something to say, just say it.”
James eyed him, a smile twitching on his mouth, and then nodded to the bedroom. “Enjoy your short-haired girls tonight, my friend.” He lurched to the door, waving goodbye.
The sound of the door closing made Mike flinch. Had James just figured it out? Was it that obvious? Fuck.
Mike shouldn’t have shown that. The jealousy. The weakness. His feelings for her had to remain a secret. From everybody. Even the keeper of his secrets.
But how? When Maggie told him James might have hit on her, he contemplated smashing his manager’s face and that of each of those fuckers at the party who had so much as looked at her. However, he stared at her, laughing with her, his emotions hidden behind a decade and a half of practice. Or had he not?
His heart dipped at the possibility. He failed to hide it from James; he was reckless for a second and his manager noticed. What if she’d noticed, too?
No. He was too careful—as he had been for years. When he looked at her, he shifted his gaze every seven seconds, so his eyes wouldn’t give him away, so he wouldn’t mash his lips against hers. When he hugged her, he made sure no parts under belt level got in contact. Sometimes—he knew it was crazy—he even held his breath around her, because God forbid what happened if she found out what her smell did to his dick.
He never could risk her knowing. He couldn’t betray her trust like that. She felt safe with him. To her, he was the older guy, the friend of the family, the mature best friend. Mature my ass. One glance at that tiny dimple in the middle of her bottom lip, and he became a horny teenager going on a first date with the most beautiful girl he’d ever met.
Besides, having feelings for her was not the only secret he had to keep from her.
I’m fucked.
“Signor Gennaro,” one of the brunettes sang in a terrible accent, her head popping out from the bedroom. “You ready for bed?”
He should be. Seeing Maggie in the flesh had his entire body primed. But the thought of being with anyone else made his stomach turn. Nice. He couldn’t be with her, and he couldn’t be with any other girl. Maybe he should just give up now and be a monk.
“No.” His eyebrows hitched. “You can take your friend and go.” He dropped on a chair. “I’m not in the mood anymore.”
She pouted, trotting toward him, the other girl behind her. “We can put you back in the mood, signor.” She kneeled beside him and helped him out of his dress shoe, the second girl working off the other shoe.
He inhaled, and the weed smell lingering inside the room overwhelmed him. “Don’t think so.”
“Oh.” The second girl’s fingers ran up his pants. “You break my heart.”
“Just tell us what you want, what you need,” The first one whispered in his ear, her tongue around his earlobe. “We’ll do anything for you, signor.”
The second brunette, already stripped to her lace underwear, sat in his lap. “Anything.”
Of course, they would. Most of the girls who ended up in his bed were there for this reason only—they wanted to brag about fucking the A-list celebrity—and that meant they’d give and not take. If they were really lucky, they might get a casual date, but that was it.
He shut his eyes, wishing he could do the same to what he felt inside. Shut it. “Nothing’s gonna work unless your name’s Maggie. Either one of you named Maggie?”
“No, but you can call us whatever you want.” She unbuttoned his shirt and pressed her tits hard on his chest. “Imagine having two Maggies on you.” She took his hands and placed them on her tits and then on her friend’s. “Four Maggie tits.” She unbuckled his belt and helped him up. His cock suddenly needed an adjustment.
The other girl took his arm and led him to the bedroom. She unzipped his pants and took off her dress and underwear. “Two Maggie pussies.”
He let out a warm sigh, imagining forbidden pictures of Maggie. How she’d smell. How she’d taste. His cock was fully hard now, sticking up his pants. “Yeah. That will work.”