Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 79209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 79209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 396(@200wpm)___ 317(@250wpm)___ 264(@300wpm)
Or maybe she was the coziness.
“Something on your mind?” she asked as she stabbed her fork into a sun-dried tomato. “You’re quiet.”
“There’s a lot on my mind.”
She moved her pasta around with her fork as she looked at me. “Want to talk about it?”
I didn’t want to worry her. “I spoke to your father today. He knew I met with Cosa Nostra.”
She spun a small amount of pasta on her fork then placed it in her mouth. “Was he angry?”
“Initially. But I told him what happened. I’d planned on it anyway before he confronted me. I was impressed that he knew. Respect him for having that information.” I grabbed the wineglass and took a drink.
“He’s a smart guy.”
“Yeah, I know where you get it from. You’re a lot alike.”
“I don’t know about a lot.”
“He asked me why I growled at Alessandro.” I couldn’t hold back the grin that stretched across my face.
She immediately stopped eating and actually dropped her fork on her plate. “Cristo, are you serious? What did you say?”
“The truth—he was bothering you, and I didn’t like it.”
“Shit, do you think he knows?”
“Nah,” I said. “That would have been the perfect time to shoot me, so…”
She gave a slight shake as she looked at me across the table. “You acting like a maniac could have gotten us caught.”
“Then too bad I wasn’t a bigger maniac.” I smirked, knowing that would get her worked up even more.
Her eyes flashed in a sparkle of pure pissed-off-ness.
Cristo, she was beautiful. “He made it sound like that was somewhat arranged.”
“What was somewhat arranged?”
“That meeting with Alessandro.”
Both of her eyebrows jumped high up her face. “My father would never set me up in a million years.”
“Well, he did. And that explains why Alessandro assumed you were available.” Women like Francesca were never available. Men like me spotted them a mile away and moved in hard and fast. Only my dick got anywhere near that ass.
“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t have just come to me directly.”
“Does any daughter want to be set up by her father?” I asked with a chuckle.
“Well, probably not. But…”
I decided not to tell her what else her father had confided to me, that he wanted her to take over the business someday, that Leo wasn’t good enough. It was probably the greatest compliment she would ever receive, and I wanted her to hear it from him, not me. And I would make sure I was the man at her side when that day came.
We continued to eat and finished the dinner that she’d made. So I wouldn’t feel like a freeloader, I left envelopes of cash on her kitchen counter once a week, and thankfully, she didn’t try to refuse it. I wasn’t sure how much her father paid her for all the work she did, but she’d better have a fat bank account because of how essential she was.
“So…” She lifted her glass and gently swirled it before she took a drink. “How do you feel about that meeting with your old boss?”
He didn’t feel like an old boss, more like an estranged father. “Good.”
“Yeah?”
“I enjoyed telling him off. Felt like revenge.”
“And then you just left?”
“Yeah, pretty much.” I wasn’t sure how things would unfold with Icarus, though Cosa Nostra were big players in the game. But so was the Skull King. I wasn’t sure who I would put my money on if I were gambling my life. Maybe I was too heartless, but I really didn’t give a damn what Icarus did to the men I’d loved like family.
Or maybe I was still too pissed off to care. “Thank you for dinner. It was great, as always.” I’d never had a woman cook for me, not even my own mother. She used to put me in the hallway with some kind of game while she did her job behind closed doors. My childhood kinda sucked, but I knew she did the best she could under the circumstances.
“You’re sweet.”
“I’m only that way to you.” I grabbed the empty plates and carried them to the kitchen, where I rinsed them and put them in the dishwasher. I’d started to wash the warm pans on the stove when she walked over.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I know.”
She grabbed my wrist and steadied me before she tapped the handle to the faucet and turned off the water. “I’ll do them later.”
I smirked and set the pan aside. “And what would you like to do instead?” I turned to look at her, my chin dropped because she was like a small branch to my tall trunk.
She wore one of my oversized t-shirts with her thigh-high socks underneath, and when she reached for the shirt and started to pull it over her head, I felt a flush of heat. It was so hot, like I’d just scored her for the very first time.