Chapter 9 #3
“Thank you. How long have you worked for Mr. D’Antonio?” Her long black hair is luminous and silky, and her face is gorgeous, like movie-star perfect. I feel a pang of jealousy.
“I’m sorry. I don’t work for him. I work for the delivery service. He demanded a female delivery person for his wife, so they sent me. I usually work as a server.” After this morning, I suppose he had enough of me showing my goodies to men. Did he expect me to just flaunt my treasures everywhere?
“Oh. Well, I’m sorry, but I don’t have any tip money with me.” There was some money in my purse, but the jerk took my things, and it all must be locked away in his office.
She smiles and then waves her hand. “Please don’t worry, it’s totally been taken care of already. Have a good day, and I hope you like it. If you need anything else delivered, my name is Melody.”
“Thanks, Melody.” She nods and waves before leaving. I go to close the door, but Marco is there, beating me to it as if he’s worried I’m going to run off.
“I’m not going to run away. I don’t even have any shoes.” I wiggle my toes at him.
“It’s for safety purposes, Mrs. D’Antonio.”
“It’s Angel.”
“If I call you that, I’ll catch a bullet to the head. I’ll pass.”
“Really? First names are out of the question?”
“No, your name is also an endearment.”
Oh, I see that now. Still, I’m not Luca’s wife, and it feels too formal. “How about Mrs. D or something?”
“No. Now please eat your food before it gets late and Mr. D’Antonio returns to find you haven’t eaten.
” He actually seems concerned for himself, which almost makes me laugh, but then again, my future husband is a mobster that clearly has some cops in his pocket, although it’s clear Luca doesn’t have Tony working for him even though I’m positive Tony’s shady as hell.
I lightly roll my eyes, but I do what he says so he doesn’t get in trouble.
Besides, my stomach is doing the hula inside.
So I take the food into the living room and sit down with my choice of a salad with three different dressings, a soup, and two different types of sandwiches.
“Goodness, does he expect me to eat all of this?” I hope not.
There are also two bottles of water. I could really use a Sprite, but this works too. I pick the chicken sandwich, stealing some of the onions and lettuce off the salad to stuff in it. Somehow it makes the meal so much better.
A moan falls from my lips as the flavors hit my tongue. I didn’t realize how hungry I was, but apparently it’s been a long time since I’ve eaten. A cellphone rings, and then Marco quickly leaves the room.
Whatever. I was about to offer him some food.
I eat in peace while thinking about the future.
What is going to happen between Luca and me?
What will happen once we marry and my brother is no longer a bargaining chip?
Will he let my brother just live with us?
Will Noah behave? God, I hope he does. Luca doesn’t seem like the kind of guy that will tolerate my brother acting out.
I miss my little brother. Where is Marco? I need to ask about Noah, and I want an update. “Marco?” I call out around the condo, but he doesn’t seem to be inside.
“Are you done eating?” he asks. I open the front door, and he’s standing outside.
“No, but I have a question.” I look outside and around. “What are you doing out here?”
“It’s my job.”
“You were inside earlier,” I remind him.
“That was just until you woke up and were aware of your surroundings.”
“Oh. Well, I want to know about my brother. What can you tell me?”
“Not much, because I don’t know anything other than he’s safe and probably watching TV and having a meal.”
“Are you bullshitting me?”
“No. I promise that he’s got it good right now, and he’ll stay that way if he acts right.”
“Fine.” I close the door because I’m not sure I believe him, or maybe I just want to think the worst of these men.
They’re holding me captive, after all. I go back to my perch on the sofa and tuck my feet up and finish my sandwich.
I’m still a little hungry, so I eat a little of the soup and then I hear the front door open.
I quickly wipe my mouth and fix my feet, setting them on the ground. “I’m glad to see you’re eating. Was your nap a good one?”
“Yes, it was.” He snags a piece of tomato off the salad. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t sure which was mine.”
“Technically it’s all yours. I only came to check on you.” He wipes his hands on the napkin.
“I’m fine. The food was good.” He raises his brow like I’m lying. “Well, okay, no, I’m not fine. I’m worried about my brother.”
He smiles and says, “Your brother is doing okay, even though he’s a pain in the ass.”
“Okay? Have you or your men beat him up?” I add, trying to get details out of him because he has a way of silencing me.
He bends down and cups my chin. “As much as I want to beat his ass, I haven’t.
Maybe when the little shit is a bit older and has a little more muscle, I’ll give him a shot in the ring or something, but it’s not even close to fair for the kid.
I might consider a belt to his ass if he keeps up the shit talking, though. ”
“He’s a dumb teen, but he’s been through a lot.”
“Yes, and so have you. He needs to get his ass under control because you don’t need that stress. I have to go back to work, so I’ll see you later.” He leans down and cups my face, kissing me and sliding his tongue inside my mouth. I actually feel guilty that I had onions. “Damn, you taste good.”
“You must be hungry.”
“For you,” he growls, sneaking a quick nibble of my lower lip. “But I need to leave. I’ll see you. Be good, and no more talking to Marco unless necessary.”
“Am I annoying him?”
“No. He’s got a job to do, and he’s not doing it when he’s focused on the way you moan as you eat.” He walks out before it dawns on me that he has somehow heard me eating. I look around the room and wonder if the room has a listening device or a camera.
I finish my food, intentionally moaning a few more times before picking up my garbage and then washing my hands in the bathroom. Then, I take everything to the kitchen, which is fun to find since I can’t ask Marco anything. I enter, and of course, it’s epically awesome.
There are flat-panel gray cabinets with white countertops in an open concept, and a large island with seating.
I should have eaten here, but Marco didn’t even mention this spot.
Maybe I should have asked. Oh well, Luca didn’t say anything to me about it either.
I put the food in the fridge, and I’m actually surprised that it’s half full and there is pop in here.
I grumble, snatching a Sprite for good measure.
I take the can and then find a nice coaster before setting it down on the living room table.
Lazily I stroll around the condo, admiring the beauty.
Somehow I end up back in the bedroom and decide to toss the curtains wide open to a view of the city, and I must say he has a spectacular view of the lakefront.
I’m not in there long before there is a knock and Marco says, “Mrs. D’Antonio. Luca says to prepare for the evening. He will be back in two hours.”
“Two hours? How well done does he need me?”
“I don’t know, ma’am. I’m just doing as I’m told.
” I hear his footsteps retreat. I open the makeup box that was left for me, and there are so many palettes.
It’s all simple, nothing over the top or garish.
Everything is just my style, which surprises me because he doesn’t know me and neither do the women that were here.