Chapter 13
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
STEFANO
M y team left a few hours ago, and I did a mostly stellar job of not punishing the Vitale brothers. Somehow, I managed to avoid beating them to within an inch of their lives for lusting after what’s mine. However, unhinged, jealous boyfriend is not a good look outside of the bedroom. Especially not if you’re the Bianchi consigliere. There are times, very rare occurrences, when my position limits my preferred course of action. I’m the trusted advisor to the Don; I can’t be seen to be making irrational decisions.
Gouging the Vitale’s eyes out would probably be considered rash.
Instead of physical violence, I found a way to sate my need to discipline them. Right now, they’re on a four-day stakeout in the ass end of nowhere. I figured it couldn’t hurt to have eyes on Danny, and I know within twelve hours they’ll be driving each other crazy. If it’s one thing you can count on, it’s that Thing 1 and Thing 2 can’t spend more than a few hours in each other’s company without bickering. I usually go out of my way to give them separate assignments, but today I’m not feeling too generous. They can be each other’s punishment.
Earlier, I left Katerina to work out in peace while I supervised the team. They managed to install everything, but there’s wet paint everywhere from where they righted any damage, which is evident from the streak of it across the sleeve of my suit.
I make my way upstairs to her bedroom, hauling the last case with me, finding Katerina coming out of the bathroom wrapped in a fluffy white robe and tousling her hair with a towel. Her eyes are practically on stalks when she catches the suitcase.
“Jesus. How long are you planning on staying? I’ve never seen a man bring so much luggage. You sure as hell don’t travel light, do you?”
“Suits. Weapons. Electronics,” I say, pointing at each case in turn.
She nods. “That makes sense, but what about the two in the kitchen and the one in the bathroom?”
“Toiletries and food,” I reply, slightly confused by her surprise.
“If that case in there is just toiletries, you’re going to need to get a team in here to remodel my bathroom.”
I shrug. “You seem to like a man who takes care of himself.”
She blushes, crossing to the dresser and spraying something on her hair before brushing it. It’s too long for her to reach the ends, so she drags it over her shoulder. I move to stand behind her and point at the chair. “Sit down. Let me.”
“You don’t have to, I’ve got it.” Her brow furrows, and I hate that she’s resistant to even the smallest gesture of care. I love how strong and independent she is, but behind closed doors, I’d love for her to feel safe enough to allow those who love her to look after her. It’s not just me. She’s the same with her family. Never asks her dad or brother for help, yet she’ll drop everything to be there for anyone who needs her.
I don’t move, my hand still pointing at the seat. We’re in a standoff of stubbornness.
Eventually, she rolls her eyes and concedes defeat, handing over the brush before sitting down and folding her arms across her chest with a huff.
“If I’m not allowed to have an alpha male tantrum, I really don’t think it’s fair for you to act like a stroppy teenager?”
She glares at me in the reflection of the mirror, her open mouth poised to tear me a new one, but instead, I reach my free hand up the nape of her neck, squeezing firmly before pulling her back into my chest.
“Sit still, keep quiet, and let me brush your hair.” The timbre of my voice slips into an octave I’m not sure I’ve ever reached before. It’s deep and commanding and I smile when she unfolds her arms and drops her hands in her lap. I can see any desire to argue with me seep out of her when I squeeze tighter and her eyes close involuntarily .
I release my grip and start alternating between the soft bristled brush and raking my fingers through the rich strands. Now it’s damp, the colour has phased from the familiar rich mahogany to closer to molten chocolate, laced with filaments of deep copper.
When I’m quite sure I’ve unfurled every tangle, I reach for the hairdryer neatly stored in a cradle under the desk.
“You don’t need?—”
I sweep my free hand across her shoulders and under her hair, rotating my wrist, wrapping her tresses around my arm like a twist of rope, then gently tugging. “I said, sit still, and keep quiet.”
Releasing her, I fluff out her hair and turn on the hairdryer. I have no goddamn idea what I’m doing, but from the contented look on her face, I’m not sure Katerina cares. I take my time and make sure every strand is dry before switching it off, and returning the dryer to its cradle.
Her reflection shows how flushed her skin is, like she’s embarrassed by this level of intimacy. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her look so bashful.
“Anything else I can do for you?” My voice betrays me. I loved being able to give her the attention she deserves.
“As much as I enjoy your hands on me, I think I draw the line at you doing my skincare routine,” she says with a giggle.
“In that case, I’ll unpack some stuff and then head downstairs and start on dinner.” Her eyebrows end up somewhere near her hairline .
“You’re going to cook for me?”
“What did you think the bags in the kitchen were for? I can’t survive on cereal and bagels, woman.”
“Breakfast for dinner is a valid meal choice.”
“Not while I’m staying here,” I reply, my voice stern but laced with a light-heartedness I haven’t indulged in for years.
“All you have to do is add a ‘young lady’ and you’d sound like my father.”
For the first time in years, the mention of her father doesn’t make me flinch. I know we’ll have a tough time explaining what this is between us when the time comes, but I don’t see her as my best friend’s daughter. I see her as a strong, confident woman who deserves a man brave enough to love her the way she needs.
“Such a brat, micetta .”
I’m gifted with a playful eye roll that somehow makes my pulse thrum, pulling a broad smile at the ease of domesticity that flows between us. I head to the bathroom and leave her to her lotions and potions so that I can find a place for some of my things.
While there’s a part of me that misses the comfort of my own home, I’m happy that she feels comfortable enough having me stay with her. Although, I do see her point as I start to unpack my bag. I’ve brought a lot with me for a man she only slept with for the first time yesterday.
Shit, has it only been a day? It feels like so much longer, especially when I’ve wanted her for what feels like an eternity.
The bathroom is smaller than mine, but I smile when I note that her tub is large enough for both of us. The shower would be a bit of a tight squeeze, but we can probably make it work. She’s decorated with rich green tiles and jade-coloured walls. It’s serene and relaxing, although every time I turn around I’m bumping into an overgrown plant that’s trying to escape its pot. Honestly, I didn’t have her pegged as a plant person.
When I’ve found space for everything, I head back to her room. “What’s with the rainforest in there?”
“Honestly, patients keep giving me the damn things and it’s the only room in the house that they survive in.”
A loud, boisterous laugh bursts out of me. “Well, that certainly makes a lot more sense.”
She brings a hand to her chest in faux offense. “Are you accusing me of being a terrible plant mother?”
“I would never,” I say, holding my palms up in surrender.
“I’ll have you know I only killed the first ten or so before I figured out that they’re more likely to survive in there,” she says, gesturing towards the bathroom before returning her attention to massaging a new product into her skin.
“How many moisturisers does one person need?” I ask, gesturing towards the collection of bottles in front of her.
“I don’t do this because of some need to look young or live forever, vecchietto . I do this to unwind. It’s my little ritual, and it’s for me and no one else.” She reaches for a flat pink stone and starts to drag it along her collarbone. I have no clue what it’s for, and as she so rightly pointed out, it’s for her benefit, not mine, therefore none of my damn business. She moves the stone leisurely across her skin, the tension melting away from her body and a sense of calm settling over her.
Walking over, I bend and kiss her forehead. “As long as you know, I think you’re stunning either way.”
She lets out a contented sigh, that same blush blossoming up her neck and into her cheeks. “Thank you.”
I press my lips to hers, careful not to disturb whatever products she’s applied, and leave her in peace.
I head downstairs to unpack what I brought with me and start on dinner, getting lost in my own ritual. I’m by no means a master chef but I remember every recipe my mother taught me, and cooking brings me peace. I’m making a simple ragu with pappardelle pasta, but I’m cheating a little. Digging through the cooler, I find the container I need. Working for a criminal organisation means I’m rarely able to predict when I’ll be home. It’s not like we work regular business hours, so I’ve been known to batch cook.
Who am I kidding? My freezer is full of food. If anyone ever needed to hide a body in a chest freezer, mine would never be the one to use. It’s full to the brim.
After grabbing a saucepan, I turf out the slow-cooked beef ragu, setting it on a low heat to defrost and cook through. I ready the oversized pasta pot, letting it simmer gently with the lid on, ready to throw in the fresh pasta when Katerina comes down.
I finish emptying what is only a fraction of my pantry stores into her barren cupboards. When she’s on shift, I know she frequents the canteen most days. It’s one of the places we added to our rotation of public dates in order to keep tongues wagging about us. From the sheer volume of menus in the junk drawer, it would seem she survives on a variety of local takeout restaurants.
“What’s that amazing smell? And how is it coming from my kitchen?”
I look up to find her leaning against the doorjamb, one leg crossed over the other at the ankles, emphasising her insanely long legs. She’s changed into a loose-fitting loungewear set and she’s wrangled the haphazard hair I undoubtedly left her with into a set of thick braids.
Is she trying to kill me? She looks adorable and simultaneously sexy as fuck. There’s a glint of desire in her eyes as she watches me stirring the ragu and I’m sure I’m reflecting the same expression right back at her.
“It’s just something I had at home. Beef ragu and pappardelle,” I say as I throw the pasta in to boil. We spend the next few minutes dancing around each other in the kitchen. She fetches the plates and cutlery while I drain the pasta and start serving.
“Can we eat in the lounge?” she asks a little sheepishly. “I know you’ve cooked this wonderful meal, but I’d love to kick back and relax on the sofa. This looks like the perfect comfort food.”
I’m nodding and picking up the pasta bowls before she’s even finished. However she wants to eat is fine by me. As long as she’s well fed, well fucked and well looked after, that’s all that matters. Fuck standing on ceremony.
As I follow her into the living room, I smile when she shuffles back into a mountain of cushions in the corner of the couch. Pulling her legs up, she sits cross-legged before hauling one of the cushions out of the pile and placing it on top of her legs like a makeshift table.
She’s snatching the bowl with grabby hands before I know what’s happening and gesturing for me to sit down beside her. There’s a selection of remotes on the side table and within a few moments, she’s dimmed the lights and queued up something to watch.
Katerina turns her head and eyes me warily. “This is where I find out if you have a sense of humour or not.”
“So, this is a test? I see. Press play then and let’s see if I pass.”
I’m worried when I don’t recognise the title. Honestly, you’re more likely to find me reading a book and listening to music than you are watching television, but it doesn’t take long for me to get into it and concede that it’s hilarious.
“What is this?” I ask between mouthfuls, softly nudging her arm.
“ Schitt’s Creek . It’s hilarious and quite frankly if you hadn’t liked it, it would have called this whole ‘real dating’ thing into question. I have no qualms fake dating a Schitt’s Creek hater, but being with one for real, it could never be me.”
I chuckle and glance at her expecting to see her giggling right back at me, but she’s side eyeing me. “I’m not joking, vecchietto .”
She nearly has me fooled until she bursts into fits of giggles. “Seriously, though, I would have judged you. This is my comfort watch. ”
“In that case, I’m glad I haven’t disappointed you,” I say, leaning over and kissing her temple.
“It would be hard to disappoint me, Stefano. Especially with cooking like this. How did I not know you were this talented?” she asks between large, twirled forkfuls of pasta.
I place my cutlery down and reach over, wiping the splash of sauce on her chin with my thumb. That sexy little blush flourishes back to life when I hold it in front of her. I give her a moment for her to decide what she’ll do, and I groan when she wraps her plump lips around my thumb and sucks the sauce right off before releasing it with a satisfying pop.
That simple little interaction shouldn’t have turned me on as much as it did, but my cock has ideas of his own. The zipper of these pants does nothing to suppress my now-growing erection. The only thing that’s keeping it in check is the pasta bowl in my lap.
It doesn’t take long for us to devour the rest of the pasta, so I decide to make a discreet getaway to adjust myself and clear away the dinner. I grab a bottle of wine and some glasses and bring them back through, placing them down on the coffee table.
The rest of the evening passes in a sort of haze of relaxed domesticity. She moves me to the pillow mountain in the corner and curls up into my side, laying her head on my chest and trailing her fingers up and down the buttons of my shirt in a never-ending pattern. Like I’m her personal fidget toy. I have no complaints but every time the pads of her fingers veer too close to my belt buckle, my cock twitches in anticipation, desperate to recreate the night before.
I have no idea how much longer I can hold out for before I pull her on to my lap and make her grind and ride me till we both come in our pants like horny teenagers.
Fuck it.