Michael
Iwalk into the house at five-fifty and am met at the door by Beatrice. She takes my jacket, already watching me too closely.
“She’s upstairs,” she says. “In your bedroom.”
She gestures to where I typically wear a holster.
“No weapon today?” she adds.
“I was at the office all day. It wasn’t necessary.”
She studies me. I wear it everywhere.
“Don’t look at me like that,” I tell her.
“You soften for her,” she says. “It is nice.”
I shake my head, but there’s a small smile I don’t bother hiding.
“I’m going to change,” I say. “We’ll be down for dinner shortly.”
“I’ll make sure it is ready.”
I turn toward the stairs, but she stops me.
“Oh, Mr. Amato.”
I hate when she calls me that. The damn woman raised me, but I look back at her.
“She refused the dining room this morning. Ate in the kitchen while the staff worked around her.”
My jaw tightens, and I exhale through my nose.
“Did you tell her I wanted her in the dining room?”
“Si,” Beatrice says. “She didn’t care. Said she would rather sit on the floor than eat in there alone.”
I pause for a second and smirk. Because that right there—That refusal. That push. That’s exactly why I can’t stay away from her.
When I open the door to my room, Katie’s stretched across my bed on her stomach, a book open in front of her. One leg bends at the knee, her foot shifting in the air. She looks up the second I walk in, and a grin spreads across her face.
“Hi.”
The book gets dropped, and she’s off the bed, coming straight for me.
“Well, hello,” I say, catching her when she reaches me. “Seems like you missed me, Doll.”
She tips her head back, meeting my eyes. “I did.”
No attitude. No deflection. I lift her, and she comes up easily, arms sliding around my neck as she presses into me. Then she kisses me.
“I missed you too.”
I carry her back to the bed and set her down, but my hands stay on her for a second, holding her there before I step back.
“Did you have a good day?” she asks.
I look at her for a moment before answering.
“It’s better now.”
Her cheeks go pink.
“What about you?” I ask. “You pick a dress out?”
She nods, already pushing up. “Yeah. Wanna see it?”
“Sure, Doll. Show me.”
She heads toward the bathroom, and I follow, loosening my tie and opening the buttons of my shirt as I walk. She starts skipping, and I laugh before I can stop it. She glances back at me, winks, and keeps moving. I shake my head, watching her cross the room. I need this. I need her here every day.
“Look,” she says, pulling a dress from the hangers.
She holds it up to herself, turning slightly, so she can see it in the mirror.
“Wow,” I say, and I mean it.
“Right? It’s going to look insane,” she says.
She comes back to me. My hand rests on the island, and she sets hers over it, her fingers brushing mine before she steps in closer.
“Thank you,” she says, her voice softer now.
She presses into me, looking up. My hand turns, covering hers fully.
“You deserve it,” I say. Every single thing.
She rises on her toes, and I lean down, meeting her halfway to brush a kiss to her lips.
“I’m going to change, and then we can head down to dinner, okay?”
“Okay.”
We stop in front of the dining room, and Katie groans.
“Not this room again.”
I ignore her.
Frank opens the door the second we approach. “Good evening, Mr. Amato.”
“Frank.”
“Hi, Frank,” Katie says, stepping in ahead of me. “I’m Katie.”
Frank’s expression softens as he looks at her. “Nice to meet you, Miss Miller.”
“You can call me Katie.”
“No,” I say, already moving past them, my hand finding her wrist and guiding her toward the table. “He can’t.”
“Rude,” she says, dropping into the chair I pull out for her.
“The house staff does not use first names,” I tell her, taking my seat. “Not mine. Not yours. The only exception is Beatrice. I am the head of this household. You are my girlfriend. They will address us properly.”
“That’s so lame.”
I exhale slowly, pulling my napkin into my lap.
“Why would you even want to eat in here?” she goes on, glancing around. “It’s just the two of us.”
The door opens behind her, and Luca and Marco step inside.
She turns. “Are they joining us?”
“No.”
“Why are they in here?”
“They’re my security, Katie.”
She looks around the room again, brows pulling together. “Are you expecting someone to attack you right now?”
“Doll, this is how things are done,” I say through clenched teeth.
“You seem mad at me.”
Shit.
I reach for her hand. “I’m not mad at you.”
“I don’t want people watching us eat if they’re not joining us. It’s weird.”
I exhale, forcing the tension out.
“Would you feel better if they stood outside?”
“Yes.”
I glance up. I give a small nod toward the door, and they move.
I look back at her, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Better?”
She nods. “Thank you.”
My hand slides to the back of her neck, and I pull her into me. She comes easily, like she was already halfway there.
“Can we make a compromise?” I ask against her mouth.
“Like what?” she asks.
“They won’t come in while we eat, but we stay in here. We eat at this table.”
She studies me for a second. “Why is it so important for you to eat in here?”
I let out a breath.
“I told you my parents were always gone. Traveling. Working. Doing everything but being home.” I glance around the room. “But when they were here, we ate at this table. Right here.”
I meet her eyes again.
“Some of my best memories with them happened in this room.”
Her expression shifts.
“Michael—“
“It matters to me,” I say. “And one day.” I pause and let it come out anyway. “I want to sit here with my wife and kids. I want that to be normal.”
She looks down at her lap. When she speaks, it’s barely above a whisper.
“Me too.”
The next day, I go into the bathroom where Katie’s already gotten in the shower to start getting ready for the charity gala.
She’s figured out how to connect her phone to the surround sound, and she has music blasting.
I undress and get in. She has her eyes closed, working shampoo through her hair and singing at full volume. She doesn’t hear me come in.
I step under the opposite shower head and turn it on. Her eyes snap open.
“Shit.”
I laugh.
“What the fuck, Michael?”
“You missed a note,” I tell her.
Her mouth drops open. “Excuse me?”
“Second verse,” I add, shrugging. “it was flat.”
She comes right over and punches me in the arm, her breasts bouncing with the impact. I rub it, acting offended.
“I don’t remember inviting you in here,” she says, crossing her arms.
I laugh.
“Alright,” I say, already turning. “I’ll leave.”
I start toward the glass door, hand lifting toward it, and she grabs my waist. I stop immediately. My head tilts slightly, glancing down at where her hand is pressed against me.
“That’s what I thought.”
“You’re such an ass.”
I pull her against me. “And, yet, you’re still right here.”
“Yeah,” she says. “Because apparently I make terrible choices.”
“Looks like it.”
“I’m not having sex with you right now, so get that out of your head.”
“Didn’t think you were.”
She narrows her eyes. “You’re annoying.”
“You’re short.”
“I swear to God—I’m 5‘6. I’m not short.”
“You are from up here.”
“You’re just too damn tall. Like freakishly so.”
“So I’m the problem.”
“You are always the problem,” she says. “You’re also hot, which is inconvenient for me.”
“Sounds tough.”
“It is,” she says, stepping closer anyway.
“That’s the spirit.”
She slides her hand down and squeezes my ass.
My hand locks on her waist. “You don’t get to do that without repercussions.”
“I can do whatever I want,” she says.
“Sure. Go with that.”
She smiles, right up at me. “You like me too much to stop me.”
“You’re right, but I don’t think you actually want to be anywhere else than right here.”
“I don’t like that you know me so well already,” she says, burying her face against my chest.
I chuckle. “I think you do.”
“Nuh-uh,” she says, but I can hear the smile in her words. She pushes me away. “Go over there. I need to finish washing my hair.”
“Fine.”
I step the few feet away under the other stream of water, but I don’t take my eyes off of her.
“Stop staring, perv,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“I can look at what’s mine,” I smirk.
“Whatever,” she says, flipping me off and turning her back to me.
It just gives me a view of her perfect ass.
“That didn’t have the effect you think it did,” I laugh as I start applying shampoo to my own hair.
She turns her head enough to see what I’m looking at.
“You’re such a fucking creep.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Doll.”
She sticks her tongue out at me, so I do it back. I could do this for the rest of my life.