9. Corey
9
COREY
I woke up the next morning and stretched, loving the big bed and all the space I could take up. Weak winter sun was coming in through the windows. At least it would be bright today. If I couldn’t go outside, at least I could look out.
How long was this pseudo-imprisonment going to go on? And how long was I going to have to put up with Dominic treating me like shit?
Obviously, he’d been coerced into watching over me, but that wasn’t my fault.
Clearly, he was hurting physically and otherwise, but that wasn’t my fault either.
Maybe I just needed to do what he said: leave him alone unless there was an emergency. I could talk to Beatrice when she was here. Hell, I could help her with her chores since I didn’t have anything else to do. That might give us more time to sit down, have some coffee, and chat.
Why did I want Dom to like me so much anyway? Why couldn’t I let it go and just accept that he was a grouchy son of a bitch?
Was it just because he intrigued me so much, because I knew there were many layers to him? His complexity was like a puzzle, and I needed to solve it. Even as a kid I’d never been able to leave a puzzle unsolved. I’d lost tons of sleep to my curiosity.
I wanted to know who Dominic really was, what had happened in his past, and how it had shaped him. That was pointless, though. Obviously, he wasn’t interested in talking to me.
I showered and dressed, even if there wasn’t much point to it. I could just spend the day in my pajamas. Or, if I really wanted to get a rise out of Dominic—possibly in more ways than one—I could just walk around naked, but the house was far too cold for that to be any fun.
I left on my thick sweater and jeans and headed downstairs. When I stepped into the kitchen, I took a deep breath. Something smelled amazing—warm, sweet, and lemony.
“Oh my gosh, what did you make?” I asked Beatrice.
She smiled. “It’s ciambellone , but I didn’t make it.”
“You bought it? I’ve seen you make everything from scratch so far.”
“Mr. Marchesi made it.”
I stared at her. She might as well have told me she’d gotten it from Mars. “He really made this?”
“He’s a wonderful baker. He learned from his mother. He doesn’t use his skills much, but I guess it was another sleepless night, and he decided he wanted to make this. He said to be sure you had a piece. I think he might have meant it as an apology.”
I stared at her. “He actually apologizes?”
She smiled. “It’s rare, but he does do it sometimes.”
I accepted the mug of coffee Beatrice handed me and stared at the cake. It looked amazing. Imagining Dominic killing someone wasn’t a problem but imagining him baking a cake…. I tried to picture him standing at the counter, scooping flour and cracking eggs. I couldn’t imagine him doing anything so domestic, so…soft.
“Go ahead,” Beatrice said. “Try it.” She cut a slice and put it on a plate for me.
When I bit into the cake, I closed my eyes, needing to fully focus on the taste and texture. It was so light, so creamy and lemony. “This is amazing.”
Beatrice smiled. “It is. You should feel very lucky. He rarely bakes and almost never for anyone else.”
“Then why do that for me? He doesn’t even like me.”
“He might surprise you. He really is a good man.”
Talk about a lot of layers. “He is—was an assassin.”
“The men he killed were not people you’d want on this earth.”
But did that make him any better?
You’re the one who wanted him to join you in bed the other night.
So he was hot. That was irrelevant.
Interesting morals.
Shut up.
“Are you okay?” Beatrice asked.
I wasn’t about to admit I’d been arguing with myself about what I thought of Dom. “I’m fine. I guess I’m not fully awake yet. Dominic really made this in the middle of the night?”
She nodded. “I suppose so, unless he made it before he went to bed.”
“No. I was down here reading in the library. I would have heard him.” I finished off the cake, got myself a second piece, and made quick work of it. After I finished the last crumb, I sighed.
The sound must have been louder than I thought because Beatrice turned around. “Are you all right?”
“I’m just bored. I couldn’t bring much with me, and I miss home.”
She waved off my protests. “We want you to be comfortable. Let us know if there’s anything we can get for you.”
“We?”
“Mr. Marchesi wants that too.”
Did he? Or did he just want me gone? I looked at the beautiful lemon cake. Maybe he cared a little how I felt, but he sure was giving mixed signals on that—and other things.
My mind was still reeling from the fact that Dom baked an apology cake for me. I wanted to thank him, but he hadn’t showed up in the kitchen. I assumed he was still resting after yet another sleepless night.
Unsure what to do, I wandered down the hall toward the sunroom. Maybe I’d peruse the books some more. Maybe I’d just sit and think about Dom and ponder what it would be like if he decided he was interested in me after all.
That should probably be done in my bedroom.
Then sound of talking startled me. I took a few steps back before I realized the voices were coming from Dom’s office. Was he on the phone? I moved closer, then I heard another voice and realized there was someone else in the office.
Who was it? What were they talking to Dom about? Considering what Beatrice had told me about the family, I knew better than to eavesdrop. I should turn around and go upstairs, but once again, my curiosity got the better of me.
I moved as quietly as I could until I was right by the door. I didn’t want anyone to see me, but I wanted—needed—to know what they were saying.
“I think we should eliminate him,” a voice said.
“I agree.” That was Dom. Oh my God, were they talking about me?
“I don’t know,” a third person said. “If we take him out, we’re going to have trouble with his brother. Is it worth it?”
I let out the breath I was holding. I didn’t have a brother. It had to be someone else.
The first voice scoffed at that. “He’s nothing. It’d be child’s play to kill him too.”
Kill. They’d said the word so I couldn’t pretend not to know what they meant by eliminate. They weren’t going to eliminate this person from an organization or something.
Beatrice had said they were in the mafia, but apparently I hadn’t really taken that in. I knew Dominic had been an assassin, but I’d kept that in the abstract. I never thought about that actual moment when he killed, even though I had worried he was going to assassinate me.
“It’s the cleanest solution,” Dom said.
“I’m not arguing with that,” said the second unknown voice. “But it’s going to make things messier in the end.”
“Or will it simply send a message?” the first voice said. “A message that we don’t stand for people who tell us they can pay and then can’t.”
Fuck. They really were mobsters.
I moved a step closer, but my foot scratched against the floor, almost making me fall.
Dominic turned and looked at me. He didn’t seem surprised at all to see me standing there. “Come in.”
My hands were shaking, and I could barely pull air into my lungs. This was it. He hadn’t killed me when I’d insulted his ability to protect me, but now I’d overheard mob business. That had to be just as bad as what I’d overheard at the firm.
Dom looked me up and down. I tried not to look at the other men in the room. It would be best if I couldn’t recognize them. “What do you need?”
“I was going to thank you for the cake.”
Dom looked down at his hands. It was the first time I’d seen him look uncertain. “You’re welcome.”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t been feeding your guest until now. Jesus, Pops. He’s not a prisoner.”
“Of course he’s been fed.”
Pops? So were these his sons? I couldn’t help but turn to look at them then. They were both as gorgeous as their father, but from what Beatrice had told me, they were both attached.
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” one of them—who I’d guess was the elder—asked.
Dom narrowed his eyes. “You’re getting far too comfortable here.”
The man just smiled.
“Corey, these are my sons: Valentino,” he indicated the one who’d asked for an introduction, “and Vito.”
Valentino held out his hand, and I shook it. His grip was tight, and his expression wary. Was he warning me to be careful with his father? As if there was anything I could do to Dom.
Vito held out his hand, and I shook it as well. He also seemed to be assessing me.
“Stand down. He’s been very polite,” Dom said.
Wait, was he defending me?
“So, if you’ve been feeding him, what’s the big deal about today’s breakfast?” Vito asked.
I glanced at Dom, unsure what to say.
“I couldn’t sleep last night. I made a ciambellone .”
I glanced at Valentino and Vito, and they were both staring at their father like they’d seen a ghost.
“You baked for him? You never bake for us.”
Dom huffed. “I baked because I wanted to. I couldn’t sleep.”
Both sons glanced over at me. “You must’ve made quite an impression.”
“Enough,” Dom said before turning to me. “Did you need anything else?”
I shook my head, “No, sir. I’ll leave you to whatever you were talking about that I definitely didn’t hear.”
“Smart,” Vito said. “It’s always best not to hear when we’re talking about family business.”
“I guessed that.” I forced myself to take slow steps and pull the door closed behind me, then I practically ran up the stairs to my room. I closed the door, leaned back against it, and took deep breaths.
I was more confused than ever. Clearly, the Marchesis were exactly what Beatrice had said, but the interaction between Dom and his sons surprised me. He was still distant, chilly, but not icy the way he’d been with me. And the way he’d defended me, the way he’d been almost kind… What was I supposed to think of him? And how was I supposed to survive months in this house without developing the worst crush in the world on him, even if his sons were potentially older than me?