Chapter 9 #3
“Hold on,” he murmured. She felt him roll his body, gently untangling from her as he slid out of the bed.
“Angelo?” She curled up, her gaze wide-eyed she watched him disappear into the bathroom. When he returned he was smiling at her.
“As much as I adore lying in bed with you sleeping on top of me, your stomach keeps growling.”
“Oh…” Suddenly mortified, she put a hand to her stomach, unaware she was hungry. Yes. They’d had pizza a while ago but she was somehow, surprisingly hungry again.
“I’ll be back in a minute,” he called out. When he returned from the bathroom had a pair of pajama pants on. “Do you like chicken noodle soup?”
She nodded. “Sure.”
“Good. That means I can feed you and I will really enjoy that.” He leaned over the bed and kissed her softly. “Put on whatever feels comfortable and come to the kitchen.”
“Okay.”
She stole one of Angelo’s T-shirts and put on a pair of underwear and sleep shorts before joining him in the kitchen.
He was standing, shirtless, heating a pot on the stove.
She saw chicken cooking in a saucepan, and he was dicing vegetables next to a broth that simmered on another part of the stove.
“Pull up a seat.” Angelo nodded at the row of barstools that faced a tabletop bar looking into the kitchen. His gaze briefly landed on her body where he seemed to realize she was wearing his shirt and the soft smile he gave her sent her heart fluttering.
Kara sat on the closest stool, admiring how the open floor plan allowed the kitchen and family room to flow easily into each other, with the bar top acting as a gentle separation.
She said nothing as she watched Angelo cook. He cooked from memory, and the aroma that drifted to her was mouthwatering. The muscles on his back moved as he reached for ingredients and stirred the soup.
“So, not exactly just opening up a can of Campbell’s, huh?” she said.
Angelo winced dramatically. “Don’t say that. I’ve already been stabbed once.”
“I’m just saying, it’s a lot more effort than I was expecting.”
He looked at her again over his shoulder. “You’re worth the extra effort, Kara. Never forget that.” Then he turned back to his work again.
She saw the faint scouring her nails had left on his back and blushed, tucking her fingers into her palms. She’d never been so aggressive before. She’d never wanted to be. But he let her feel like she could touch him, like she could lose control and still be safe.
The other encounters she had over the years had been rushed, frantic couplings.
She’d held fast in her control and focused on reaching a pinnacle of pleasure as quickly as possible.
Tonight, Angelo had shown her how wonderful it was to linger, to savor each touch and each kiss.
It had heightened the experience so much.
And with him she’d felt that undeniably spark that kept setting her passion ablaze all over again.
Angelo readied two bowls of chicken soup and handed her one with the spoon. She held the bowl up and inhaled it. The scent hit her hard as memories of her mother heating up a can on the stove in a ratty apartment flooded back to her.
Mom. Home. While her sense of home had always been a transient thing, her mother had been a constant presence in her life, making each new apartment feel like home.
Five years… it had been a long time since she’d felt like this.
She set the bowl down and covered her face as she fought off hiccupping sobs.
“Kara.” Angelo came around and put an arm around her shoulders. “It’s all right,” he said soothingly.
She buried her face against his chest, her hands fisted against his chest as she finally cried.
“Let it out, tesoro mio. Let it out.” He rubbed his hand over her back with a soft touch that only made her cry harder. She would miss that, miss having someone who would comfort her when she hurt so very much. The last person to do that had been her mother.
“Kara,” he whispered. Finally, her exhaustion dried the last of her tears. “Eat your soup. I promise you will feel better.”
He let her go and she turned to her bowl. He was right. The first spoonful hit all of her senses in a rush. It was chicken noodle soup, but was so much more than that. Angelo held his own bowl, watching her face before he finally took a spoonful of his own.
“Is this your Nonna’s recipe?” she asked him. Her face felt tight from the dried tears, and her eyes had to be puffy and red right now.
He laughed, his face lighting up. “No, it’s all my own. I wanted the classic taste, but I wanted more intense, more rich. It’s still a lightweight, healthy soup, but I use a Mediterranean herb mix to enhance the flavor.”
“I wish I knew how to do something special like that,” she murmured, not meaning to say it out loud.
“It’s never too late to learn something new, Kara. Life is a long journey of discovering ourselves and our gifts.”
Her whole life she’d collected a little bit of useful skills along the way, a jack of all trades, but a master of none just in order to survive.
She’d never let herself have a chance to really explore anything more deeply.
Now she wished she’d tried to take a writing class or maybe a drawing class, something that let her just experience life without worrying about it.
“Are you tired?”
“Not really.”
“How about we watch a movie?” Angelo suggested.
“That sounds nice.”
They finished their soup. Angelo told her to pick out a movie while he did the dishes and put leftover soup in the fridge.
“How about this one? I heard it’s good. I’ve just never seen it.” She pointed to what she’d found on his many streaming options.
“Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade, a classic choice. Excellent.”
He collected several thick blankets from the couch and pulled the ottoman footrest close then gestured for her to sit next to him.
There was a foot of space between them when the movie started, but Kara slowly leaned and then tucked herself against him. It felt so natural when he put his arm around her. And it was even more natural for her to rest her head against his shoulder.
Kara fell asleep fifteen minutes into the movie.
Angelo smiled as he kissed her forehead, then very carefully lifted her into his arms and carried her back to his bedroom. His abdomen burned as the skin around his staples stretched with the effort, but it was worth it. Everything he did for Kara was worth it.
He pulled back the bed covers and settled her under them. For a moment he just watched her, taking in the sight of her face which had softened with sleep.
Once he was certain she wouldn’t wake, he carefully unzipped her suitcase, removing her clothes and placing them in a drawer he had cleared for her on one side of his dresser where they would be easy to find.
If he left the matter up to her, she’d probably leave her clothes in the suitcase, the part of her ready to run overriding the part of her that wanted to stay and relax.
He opened her backpack next, wanting to make sure she had no clothing in there which should be unpacked.
He found instead a spiral bound notebook, a worn patent leather carrying case that held pens, two books, an old CD player, and headphones.
There were a handful of CDs in a CD case.
Everything about her life provided more evidence of her life off-line.
Even her music was something that couldn’t be traced to an online account.
“Oh principessa…” Angelo’s heart ached for Kara then, imagining the life she could have had, should have had, if only circumstances had been different. He looked at the two books next. The Three Musketeers and A Gentle Rogue, a romance novel.
He brushed his thumb over the cover of The Three Musketeers and smiled. It was one of his favorites, and reminded him of his friendship with Thad and Jared. He put the books back in her backpack and zipped it up before he climbed in bed and pulled her into his arms.
You’re safe now, he promised silently. I’ll make sure you won’t ever have to run again.
If he had to take on the Irish mob to free Kara, he would find a way. And if he had to call in a favor with the Cabrini Kings, something which might cost him his soul, he would do that too.
Kara had been running long enough. Scared long enough. She deserved something better, and a chance to find a real home. A real life. Maybe even one with him.