Inked Adonis - A Mafia Romance

NOVA

This is not a drill.

I repeat: this is not a drill.

My dog is humping the leg of the hottest man I've ever seen.

He isn't my dog, technically speaking-he's the newest client in my dog-walking roster. But for all intents and purposes, he's my responsibility for the duration of our loop around Lincoln Park. Given the single-minded focus with which Rufus is currently hip-thrusting the shit out of this poor man's leg, this little pit stop might only add a couple minutes to the walk.

Rufus has yet to listen to one single order I've given him all day-too busy bounding after squirrels and almost taking me out with his baseball bat of a tail-so this display of unbroken concentration is honestly kinda admirable.

And me?

Savvy new businesswoman that I am-what am I doing about it?

Not a damn thing.

I'm frozen on the spot, watching in horror as Rufus goes to town on a suit that looks like it cost more than my entire college tuition.

In my defense, I'm also trying to hold onto the three other clients who have a better grasp of consent or a worse ability to wriggle off their leashes, or both. Patsy, Snide, and Blue are nipping around my legs, jazzed up by their latest comrade's escape.

Which is why I turn to my best friend and business partner in the hopes that her take-charge personality will make up for my sensational lack of alpha female energy here.

"Hope?" I squeak.

But Hope is standing apart from the group of barking dogs, gawking at the nightmarish scene unfolding before us with open admiration.

"Holy shit-he's gorgeous!"

Not the problem-solving partner-in-crime I was hoping for.

But I get it. This is overwhelming. Not just Rufus's horny little stunt, but the victim, too.

Say what you will about Rufus, but the dog has excellent taste. The man he's assaulting is broad-shouldered and dark-haired, with steamy silver eyes and a jawline that Michaelangelo would be jealous of. He's wearing his dark navy suit in a way that every man wants to, but few men truly can.

Even with my attention understandably scattered, the one thought that keeps repeating in my head is, I don't blame the dog.

Hell, I kinda wish I was Rufus right now.

"What do we do?" I hiss.

Hope snaps out of her daze and hisses right back, "Handle it!"

My first instinct is to say, I can't, and flee the park with the dogs not currently grinding it out against a stranger. But Hope is more than just my best friend in this instance; she's also my new business partner. If I want her to merge her personal assistant company with my fledgling dog-walking venture, I need to prove to her that I'm trustworthy.

So I shove the three remaining leashes into Hope's hands and stumble forward, ready to pretend I have any idea how to regain control of a randy Rufus.

But Rufus's victim chooses this exact moment to stand.

Holy hell.

The man was imposing sitting down, but there is tall and then there's tall. He towers over me and Rufus, a veritable Great Dane in his own right.

"You seem to have lost control of your dog."

I avoid his stunning silver eyes and focus my attention on the canine instead. "Rufus!" My voice aims for commanding but lands somewhere between squeaky toy and panic attack. "Stop it this instant."

Rufus must be into voyeurism, because he humps the man even harder.

I chance a quick glance at the human Great Dane to see if he's as unimpressed with my faltering control as I am.

Spoiler: He is not, in fact, impressed.

His face might as well be carved from marble-eyebrows arched, jaw clenched tight. Cold, beautiful, and utterly unimpressed. I study the hard corners-for science, of course-trying to decide if he's finding this amusing or if he's just mentally drafting the lawsuit that will put Hope's Helpers out of business.

Then the man snaps his fingers.

"Rufus," he growls, his voice a dark promise that makes my thighs clench. "Sit."

Rufus freezes mid-hump. His adorably soulful eyes turn up towards his human counterpart. With a little apologetic whine, he detaches himself from the man's leg and parks his sizable ass on the ground.

I stare at the dog in disbelief.

He listened.

He actually listened.

I don't actually know why I'm shocked. If that man gave me an order, I'd be obeying, too. Sit. Stay. Speak. Undress.

I'd park it wherever he told me to.

Rufus whines, probably resentful that the man's attention is fixed on me.

Those firebrand silver eyes are truly something. They make it hard to focus. What am I doing here again?

Oh, right.

Emphatic groveling.

"I'm so, so, so sorry. This is mortifying. This is my first day walking him, and I-" I make the mistake of looking him in the eye.

Christ on a cracker. The man is literally two heads taller than me. I'd have to get a stepladder just to reach those lips of his. Although, why I would need to reach his lips is beyond me.

That's a lie.

It's not beyond me.

There's only one reason I'd want to reach those lips. And that reason is about as innocent as Rufus's overtures a moment ago.

"-I underestimated just how strong he is." I glance down at the right leg of his suit pants. The once immaculate fabric is now crumpled and dusted with slobber and dog hair. "Oh, God. He really did a number on you, didn't he?"

All I can think is that if this had happened to Chicago PD Sergeant Tom Pierce, the man would be screaming in my face as he "took care" of Rufus. My father is not what you would call "understanding." Or "lenient." Or "nice." He has no tolerance for animals.

For that matter, he doesn't have much tolerance for people, either. Hell, if he could kick humans across the rainbow bridge and call it a "mercy killing," he would do it in a heartbeat.