Chapter 13 #2
“You should see how many attempts are in that trash. Don’t smile—no, don’t laugh.
” But I’m fighting my own grin as she does exactly that, her eyes going so light they’re almost blue in the morning light.
The sound bubbles out of her, warm and unrestrained, and before I can notice anything else, she’s sliding off the stool—
—right into my space. My heart gives a hard thud as blood rushes south, my cock thickening with how close she is.
Her laughter fades as she realizes our proximity.
Her pupils dilate, and for a moment, the air crackles with possibility.
Then she plants her hands on my chest and shoves, and I can’t help the chuckle that slips out as I step back to let her pass.
She clears her throat and goes straight to the trash bin, clicking her tongue as she peers in. “Cooking doesn’t seem to be your forte, darling. Looks like I’m the cook in this relationship.”
“Darling?” The endearment grabs my full attention.
“No? You prefer something else? Babe? Baby? Sweetheart? Or something in Italian? I’ll have to look up some terms of endearments then.” Her voice is playful, but she avoids my gaze as she starts cleaning up my disaster.
“What are you talking about? What are you doing?” But I’m mesmerized. Everything she says and does just draws me deeper into her orbit.
“If we’re going to pretend to be in love, I need something sweet to call you, right? You already call me bellezza.”
She’s so damn cute I have to smile.
“And as for what I’m doing—I’m making us breakfast. To thank you for the tea. Horrible as it tasted, I have to admit I’m already feeling better.”
She moves around the kitchen with surprising confidence, barefoot and relaxed, humming under her breath as she flips something in the pan. I offer to help once—maybe twice—but she waves me off each time without even looking up.
What took me over an hour and multiple failed attempts, she accomplishes in only thirty minutes. And somehow without making a single mess.
She sets a plate in front of me, stacked with golden pancakes and fluffy scrambled eggs, steam still rising off them, and my mouth waters even before I lift my fork. It smells heavenly. Then I take a bite, and my eyes close involuntarily. It tastes exactly how my mom used to make it.
“What? Is it not good?”
I force a smile as I open my eyes. “No, it’s perfect.” My voice comes out rough with unexpected emotion, so I clear my throat. “Thank you.”
She beams as she takes the seat across from me. “You’re welcome. And as of today, you’re officially banished from the kitchen.”
Then, suddenly, she leans forward and brushes the back of her hand down my cheek. The simple touch electrifies every nerve ending, and my fork slips out of my hand to my plate with a clatter, my throat closing up.
Her eyes widen at my reaction, and she jerks her hand back. “Sorry, you had some flour.” She shows me the white powder on her hand as evidence.
“It’s fine,” I say, clearing my throat again.
We eat in awkward silence after that, the only sounds the clinking of utensils against plates. She’s the first to break it.
“I should go home after breakfast. My mom is probably worried. Last night was the first night I didn't spend at home.”
Her first night away from home? What kind of life has she lived where she’s never had a sleepover, never spent a night somewhere else?
I nod, not mentioning that I had Michael break into her phone last night to get her mother’s number.
She didn’t seem too worried about her daughter spending the night with some strange man on the line.
Although, to be fair, the woman sounded stoned out of her mind and in no shape to worry about anyone.
She probably won’t even realize Leni wasn’t home.
Hell, she probably won’t even remember I called.
Seriously, what was it like for her growing up? Has her mother always been like that? What about her brother? How come she seems to be the one carrying the burden of the family?
I’m suddenly very curious about this woman who’s about to be my wife. I gave my man her info last night to dig into her background, but now I’m actually eager to get the report.
“I think you should move in with me today.” That house won't be safe for her anymore. Once word gets out that she’s mine, she might have a target on her back. The fuckers who can’t get to me might try to use her instead.
“What?” Her voice is choked.
“Your mother and brother are moving to their new house today. It doesn’t make sense for you to move there with them just to pack up again next week,” I explain, not wanting to scare her by going into the dangers.
She asked about my enemies last night, but I don’t think she fully realizes what she’s getting into.
She gulps. “Don’t you think we’re moving too fast?”
Not fast enough. I shrug and continue my meal. She’s quiet for the rest of breakfast, lost in her thoughts, and I don’t push for conversation. When I’m done eating, I put the plate in the dishwasher before excusing myself. It’s almost time for my call with my brothers.
I set up my laptop in my home office and join the video conference. I’m the first one in, which makes me smirk—so much for them giving me so much shit. Now I get to dish the shit out.
Rafael joins next, then Maximo, with Michael dragging in last.
“Nice of you to grace us with your presence today, Romero,” Maximo says, pushing his dark hair out of his face, those darker eyes glinting with amusement.
“Shut your trap.” My warning only makes him grin. “How’s Elira?” I add, partly to distract him, but also because I’m genuinely curious. She announced during the New Year dinner in February that she’s pregnant, and since then Maximo has been hovering over her like an overprotective mother hen.
“My wife is none of your business,” he starts, but then his entire demeanor softens. “She’s glowing. I think once we have this baby, I’m going to knock her up again real quick. It agrees with her.”
My lips curl in disgust. I shouldn’t have asked.
“How are your territories?” Rafael steers the conversation to business—where it should be. Normally, he’s patient with our banter, but today his silvery eyes are sharp with impatience. I wonder what’s crawled up his ass.
“What? No hello, how do you do? You don’t want to talk about our feelings?” Michael snickers. Rafael glares at him, but the fucker is unfazed. He runs a tattooed hand through his hair, brushing back the blond strand falling over his temple.
“Ha. The girls keeping you up all night have you talking delusional,” Rafael says flatly.
“Do I look like I give a shit about what you dumbasses feel?” By girls he means Michael’s twin daughters.
Before any of us can reply, he continues.
“Anyway, it seems there’s relative peace in your boroughs for now, so let’s move on to the next topic. ”
The conversation shifts to serious business. Maximo updates us on the weapons shipment that got delayed last year thanks to Emily’s interference before she became Rafael’s wife. “It should arrive any day now.”
“Good.” Rafael nods, then locks eyes with me. “Any closer to finding Katie?”
The four of us are all actively searching for her, but I’ve come the closest. With Julian DeMarco dangling leads about her potential whereabouts under my nose, everyone assumes I’ll be the one to find her first.
“Not yet,” I say. “I have a meeting with DeMarco tomorrow, and I’m going to make it clear I’m done letting him jerk me around. I want you guys to reach out to his secretary about potentially joining his campaign team.”
“No fucking way. I hate politicians.” Michael’s disgust is immediate.
Maximo looks equally disgusted. “It doesn’t mean we actually have to join the fucking team, right? You’re the charmer of the group, Rome. You’re the only one who could survive in that glittering world of lies.”
“No, you don’t have to actually sign up.” I have no intentions of playing his game either. “But dangling what he wants while I deliver my ultimatum might finally get him talking.”
“What ultimatum?”
I glance at Rafael. “That I’m done being at his beck and call. Either tell me what he knows about Katie tomorrow, or he can forget about any of us joining his campaign team—and I walk away.”
He nods approvingly. “About time. I’m sick of his manipulation.”
Sensing that the meeting is coming to an end, I drop my bombshell. “Just so you know, I’m getting engaged tonight. Don’t be shocked if you see it in the papers tomorrow.”
Three voices explode simultaneously:
“What?” Rafael.
“No fucking way.” Michael.
“Ha, that’s not funny, Rome.” Maximo.
“Have I ever joked about something like this?” I meet each of their stares. “It’s happening.” Then I hang up before any of them can press me, chuckling as my phone immediately starts ringing.
Let them stew in their curiosity a little longer. It’s no less than they deserve.