Mafia King's Contract Breeder
Chapter 19 Late for Breakfast

Chapter 19: 19 Late for Breakfast

Lara POV

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

"Wake up! Wake up! You’re late!"

I bolted upright in bed.

What was I late for?! My final exams? My shift at The Red Door?

I blinked open my eyes blearily and found myself looking out at a window. A window with a view overlooking Central Island.

Oh. Right.

With a surge of just-woke-up rage, I pulled open the door sharply.

"What?!" I snapped, pushing a mess of red hair out of my face. "Where’s the fire?"

Mr Ricci, the butler, stood at my door. His butler uniform was stretched too tight over his bulky build, tattoos visible on his thick neck.

He looked like a bear who had eaten a butler and stolen his clothes.

"What the fuck are you wearing?" he cried out.

Me?

I blinked down at the faded T-shirt and baggy sweatpants I slept in.

"No, no. That is not up to the standard for our Boss," Mr Ricci said disapprovingly.

"What am I supposed to wear then?" I asked.

"There are suitable clothes prepared for you in the wardrobe."

Really?

I hadn’t checked it yet. So I turned back and pulled open the wardrobe.

It was filled with neat rows of dresses, skirts, and lacy lingerie sets, brand new and in my size, tags still attached. At the bottom of the wardrobe were a pile of shoe boxes with matching high heels.

"When did these get here—?" I gaped at all the clothes squeezing the wardrobe full.

I had never seen so many beautiful clothes in my life.

I picked a dress up by the hanger. The tag showed an expensive designer logo and the price: $1,499.

"Yeah, there’s the good stuff," said Mr Ricci briskly. "Hurry up and get dressed properly, the Boss is waiting for you at breakfast."

He turned and left my bedroom.

My stomach twisted slightly.

Emmanuel Sagres was waiting for me. For breakfast.

"This is ridiculous," I muttered to myself.

I stripped off my comfortable, threadbare pajamas and changed into the dress that cost more than I made at The Red Door on an average weeknight.

Lace underwear. High heels.

It looked like something the movie stars wore to red carpets.

Also — the flared skirts barely reached the top of my thighs, making my legs look longer in the high heels.

I could feel the slight ache deep inside me as I moved.

How was I going to face Emmanuel Sagres again after how he fucked me last night?!

This time, fully knowing who he was.

I couldn’t face it.

Knock knock.

"Are you done in there?!" Mr Ricci shouted through the door.

Like all dreaded things, it just couldn’t be avoided.

I opened the door again, gritting my teeth.

"Very good, much better," said Mr Ricci. He gestured with a white-gloved hand, and limped down the hall. "Come on, now."

I followed after him, the very short skirt brushing against the curve of my ass in a way that made me feel terribly exposed.

When I was scantily dressed at The Red Door, at least all the other girls were in the same boat. I came in expecting to take my clothes off and then I covered up again when I left.

But now, I was not walking through a darkened, seedy alleyway lit up in neon in the night.

The tower was ridiculously well lit, high up in the sky. Sunlight poured in from the windows, the tiles gleaming.

This area was just below the penthouse that was Emmanuel Sagres’s domain, a staff area, as far as I could tell.

We passed by a staff kitchen where a pair of maids were washing dishes, and they nodded to the butler as we went by.

"Morning, Mr Ricci."

They eyed me curiously.

Mr Ricci nodded back absently, still limping along. He led me into the same elevator I had used last night and we went up into the penthouse.

This time, instead of turning right towards the living area and the study, he turned left, leading me into an equally spacious, high-ceiling dining area.

Emmanuel Sagres sat at the head of a long table big enough for twelve. He sipped on a cup of black coffee, glancing up over the cup rim with those piercingly blue eyes that made my stomach flip.

Electrifying.

I couldn’t help but think of how he looked when he was coming—head tipped back, throat working, those same eyes half-lidded and dark as he groaned my name and pumped me full. The memory alone made my pussy clench and throb.

"Sorry about the delay, Boss. Here she is," said Mr Ricci, suddenly taking on a pompously formal accent.

It was enough to make me pull my gaze away from Emmanuel to give him a judgmental glance.

Where the hell did he learn his butler skills? Community theater?

Emmanuel’s expression was as cool and unreadable as usual.

Well, if there could be a usual considering I had seen him...three times, outside of having sex.

My pussy throbbed at the thought.

"Sit down, Lara," said Emmanuel.

I could do this, I told myself. Just be professional.

I lifted my chin, walked the length of the table, and reached for the chair on his right. The second my fingers touched the wood, a large hand shot out, grabbed my waist, and hauled me backward into his lap.

I gasped.

The skirt was so short that I could feel the warm wool of Emmanuel’s trousers under my bare ass, my pussy barely covered in a lace thong.

Calloused fingertips stroked up my bare thigh.

"Hey—" I tried half-heartedly to pull myself out of his lap, looking up at the butler in embarrassment. "I thought you wanted breakfast."

"I already had breakfast," Emmanuel said softly. "Now it’s time for yours."

The fingers slipped under my skirt.

They teased against front of the thin lace panel, feather light touches brushing against my clit.

I shifted against him, feeling the heavy length pressed into my backside with heat curling helplessly inside me.

"Here?" I hissed.

A few feet away, Mr Ricci took away a few empty plates from the table, not looking remotely concerned about what his Boss was very obviously doing under my skirt.

"Are you a prude, Lara?" he murmured. "My mistake, I didn’t think I’d brought home a virgin."

I glared at him over my shoulder, but it was weak because his fingers were now tracing the edge of the lace, toying with it.

"I’ve slept with loads of men," I said sarcastically.

"Mm. Were any of them as good as me?"

Oh, fuck him.

He tugged the thin lace aside, dragging a finger through the slick gathered at my entrance. I threw my head back against his shoulder and bit back a moan.