Chapter 42 – Amanda
Rough pads kneaded my cheek. Sleepily, I pushed the ball of fur to the side. But Grigio was done cuddling. With a strangled yowl, he leapt over me and vanished to wherever he needed to go. Maybe my insomnia just needed a cuddle partner.
Or maybe you needed to cut your hours in half….
I huffed to myself. It was the middle of the week.
There were no emails, urgent or otherwise, when I checked my phone.
The automatic response to checking the damn thing still made my fingers twitch.
While having no to-do list was nice, and while I was enjoying the break from the endless documents, time-consuming meetings, and general rush of being a high powered lawyer, I knew it was going to drive me to insanity having nothing to make me leave the bed.
There wasn’t even the problem my father created by going into debt with a warlord. That was all being handled, and the strict instructions I’d been given were to stand down.
Me.
Stand down.
I tugged the blanket, ordering myself to snooze for ten more minutes before getting out of bed and finding something useful to do.
Most people enjoyed free time. To me, it could lead to depression and other destructive behaviors.
I might need rest and a mental break, but I also needed stimulation and purpose.
A complicated balance.
The blanket didn’t budge.
I was about to curse the cat for snagging the blanket when a deep sigh preceded the bed dipping. I froze. Common sense laughed that a cat couldn’t keep the blanket away…but a fully grown man could. The realization of how warm it was spread through me. That body heat wasn’t coming from me.
I cracked my eyes, but the blackout curtains didn’t reveal the outline of hard muscle I knew was there. Sliding my palm across the mattress, I flinched when I felt hot skin.
Vincenzo burned.
Once, long ago, I loved snuggling in the protective orb of that heat. I joked that we could keep the windows open all winter, and I’d still wake up toasty. Those were the days he’d snuck into my room, leaving before the sun was up.
It seemed that old habits died hard.
He’s here.
The sun would rise, and there was no reason for him to run away. This was his lair. This was his bed—the only bed in the whole loft.
Of course he would sleep in his own bed.
I snatched my hand back.
“I won’t bite,” the deep, gravelly voice rumbled. “Not unless you ask me to.”
Heat of a different nature flashed in my belly. “Thanks, but I’m good.”
He murmured roughly. “I didn’t mean to fall asleep. I have a surprise for you today, and I was going to wait for you in the living room, since you didn’t ask me to come back to bed, but then—”
He shrugged.
“It’s your bed,” I whispered before I could stop myself.
“I didn’t mean to wake you,” I added.
“Wasn’t you,” he yawned. “It was my damn child.”
My stupid heart skipped a beat. He called his cat his child. This big, tough mafia man not only had cats but adored them. Enough to make a social media account featuring the tiny beasts.
“Hey, don’t talk that way about my buddy,” I teased softly. “Grigio has been nothing but welcoming during my sojourn here.”
Vincenzo rolled over. “How do you know his name?”
Was he asking if I remembered? That we had the names of our cats, our dogs, even our children selected once upon a time?
I went with the safer answer, not trusting the fallible, thundering organ in my chest to handle a deeper discussion at the moment. “I found your Instagram account.”
In the silence that followed, Vincenzo reached out and brushed a lock of hair off my face. It was as if the monster could see in the dark.
“I’m glad they like you, but I’m not surprised,” he confessed.
“Why wouldn’t they?” I was having trouble breathing. He was too close. Too warm. And damn, did he have to smell that good? He’d been on his bike recently. The fuel and leather was a delicious aroma, but it couldn’t hide the masculine scent that was all him.
“A few members of my crew, who’ve been around, seem to be their mortal enemies,” Vincenzo confided.
I laughed. “Yeah, I wonder why. Bill would skin them and wear them as hats if he wasn’t so allergic.”
Vincenzo snorted. The short laugh was devilishly sexy.
I was in danger of doing something stupid like rolling over and sliding on top of him. So, I scooted out of the bed and padded to the bathroom. As I flicked on the light, his voice stopped me.
“Mandy?”
I turned, and a tingle of heat sizzled between my legs. Vincenzo had leaned back in bed, crooking his muscled arms behind his head. The blanket was pulled just under his chest, but there was enough of a tease to show the work of art it hid.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t go to the police today.”
Just like that, the carnal urge to rush him fizzled out. “Excuse me?”
“I know you have a contact with the Feds here in Boston,” Vincenzo said evenly, although his eyes had hardened. “Don’t do it. Don’t make this worse by trying to be the heroine.”
“Have you been snooping through my phone?” My voice rose with the accusation.
It was password protected, but…. Oh, shit.
This man knew me. He would have tried a few different number combinations and obviously had found the right one.
My cheeks flamed.
“Don’t mess this up. We’ve got the situation under control,” Vincenzo insisted.
Momentarily ignoring the invasion of privacy, I picked the fight I felt more comfortable winning. “Why the hell not? The Feds can have international jurisdiction if they have a case. I’m handing them the war criminal on a silver platter. I found a legal loophole!”
Me. I did that. I found the answer.
“And they’ll take us down with Varga.”
There was a desperate note in his voice. It wasn’t anger, something more gutting. Fear.
Of course, Vincenzo would fear the law. They’d been the only enemy successful at hurting him.
I pursed my lips. “They can help, Enzo. I won’t connect you in any way to the case.”
“Let me lay this out in a way that your puzzle driven brain can understand.” Vincenzo sat up, and the blanket fell away.
My concentration wavered. Good lord, that body.
“Varga is connected with your father. The bastard wasn’t clean about his dealings, and money from both your and your sister’s trusts is included. By extension, that puts Cristiano in the mix—which damns us all.”
“Patricia won’t come after us,” I insisted, tearing my eyes away from that wicked looking torso, decorated with a story written in blood and ink. “She’s a good person and one hell of an agent.”
Vincenzo let out a strangled sound that was part growl and probably part desire to pummel his fist in the wall. “Fine, she might be. But her boss? Any other hungry vulture in the bureau? Cops aren’t our friends. They have their own agenda, and they use the law to bend civilians to their will.”
He was never going to relent.
And if I was being completely honest, I had my own hesitation about going to my contact.
“It’s not like you’ve given me much choice,” I shot back. “You say you’ll handle it, but Enzo, be honest! I just met you—”
I waved my hand wildly to explain the turn of phrase was metaphorical, covering our years apart. I knew the boy, I didn’t know this man in bed.
Although my body very much wanted to know him better. Much better.
I tried a different tactic. “How do you expect me to just sit around and wait for my fate to be played out? You wouldn’t. You would fight.”
“See…you do know me.” He swung his legs out of the bed.
I stifled a groan as my needy little pussy throbbed.
“You know I’m fighting. You know that my men are fighting.” He rose. If that bulge in his boxers was any indication, he was in the same struggle I was. “It’s being handled, but you should have come to me in the first place.”
We might have made up for that fight. But the hurt was still there.
“I should have,” I whispered. “And I’m sorry we didn’t talk about that. But you haven’t told me your plans.”
Vincenzo prowled forward. I shrank back, hitting the double vanity. He leaned against the doorframe, one arm above his head, and studied me.
“I can help you if I know what is going on,” I pleaded, refusing to look anywhere but his face. “Please, Enzo, it’s driving me crazy.” I am not helpless.
I was not weak.
“I never said you were,” he answered, as if he’d heard my unspoken thoughts. “And I will tell you, I promise.”
He reached out, and that scarred, inked knuckle grazed my cheek. The caress was utterly gentle. Reverent. Those hands, so capable of destruction, were only soft for me.
“Trust me.” He asked the impossible.
Right now, with nowhere else to turn, I gave in. “Okay.”
The alarm on his phone rang.
“Get dressed. We don’t want to be late,” he said, and as he dropped his hand, he grabbed the door handle, pulling it closed.
I should have been able to breathe easier without that dominating presence eating up the air in such a confined space. But shut away from him in the bathroom, it took everything I had not to rush out, to embrace the force of nature, and draw in deep, cleansing gulps of his aura.
***
“Where are we going?” I demanded, swinging the straps of the one and only pair of shoes I had left.
They were going to be worn out if I didn’t go shopping soon.
There just hadn’t been time. I hadn’t bought anything since the Monday I went grocery shopping, and that day it had only been a coffee before the delicatessen incident.
Cheeks heating at the memory, I dropped the shoes on the hardwood floor.
Bianco screeched and dove into the weightroom. Grigio prowled over, head down, shoulders hunched, gaze zeroed in on the dainty pumps.
I toed the shoe at him, and he hissed, rearing back with hackles raised. The laughter that bubbled up my throat felt light and freeing. Engrossed with the animals, I didn’t notice their papa kneeling.
“Vincenzo—” I sucked in a sharp breath.