Chapter Seven #2
These last few weeks is the most stagnant I’ve ever been.
Lorenzo’s phone buzzes. He checks it. His jaw clenches and his nostrils flare. There goes his focus and his mood. Even as he leaves the room, his eyes stay glued to the screen.
For as long as he’s been stalking that oblivious woman, one would think he would’ve done something by now. But he clearly has no intention of taking her for himself. So, what does he get out of it?
After packing up my devices, I give it ten minutes before slipping out of the room.
As soon as I step into the hall, the delectable scent of vanilla, sugar, and baked dough hits, and an appreciative hum escapes me.
Cora must be baking.
As I pass the Mediterranean-style kitchen, a tray of fresh-baked goodies on the island catches my eye, stopping my lickerish ass in my tracks.
Looks yummy. But Cora isn’t around for me to beg some off her, and I need to get out of here before the man who wants to kill me sees me.
I resume my quiet escape.
Then stop.
Glance around like a crook before turning back and tiptoeing to the kitchen island. To the tray piled with assorted cookies and biscotti.
Hmm.
I rip off a sheet of paper-towel, pluck up two treats, and wrap them up. Then grab a third—an amaretti cookie—and bite into it.
“Mhmmhm, ohmyghard, so goofd,” I sing through a full mouth.
“Your offenses just keep piling up, rule breaker.”
At the sound of that voice, my body goes rigid. Momentarily.
Goddammit, Lorenzo. You had one job.
No doubt he’s off in a corner somewhere fuming at his phone screen.
Mid-chew, I slowly turn around.
Stefano Castello stands in the kitchen archway, hands in his pockets. Perfectly perfect as ever in a fitted three-piece suit. “Did no one warn you what we do to thieves around here?”
I finish chewing, swallow, and meet his gaze. “Surely, you won’t kill me over two cookies.”
“Liars lie. Thieves steal. Today it’s cookies, tomorrow it’s something else.”
“Good grief, you’re dramatic. It’s just cookies.” I close my eyes and inhale deeply. “You smell that? How could I resist?”
“So what you’re telling me is, if I put you to work handling my money, you wouldn’t be able to stop yourself from stealing. ‘Look at all this money, how could I resist?’”
Oh, for Pete’s sake. Is he serious right now? Over some damn cookies that Cora would’ve happily given me anyway?
“Look, I’m not a thief or a liar, all right? I would’ve waited for Cora, but I wanted to get out of here before...” I gesture vaguely between us. “This could happen.”
Mercifully, Cora ambles in right then, her face lighting up at the sight of Stefano.
No question who’s her favorite.
“Oh, Stefano! Did you need something? Let me get it for you.”
“Nothing needed,” he replies, his glare still pinned on me. “Just caught your precious little Raya here helping herself to your bakes.”
Cora swivels as if she hadn’t even noticed me standing there. “You’re leaving already? I was putting together a pasticcini tray for you and Gio. He loves these treats as much as you. But they’re not done yet. If you have to go now, I’ll get them to you later.”
The indignant flare in Stefano’s eyes almost makes me laugh. Like a pissy little snot who’s mad I didn’t get scolded after tattling on me.
“Oh, Cora, that’s so sweet of you,” I say, layering on the saccharine. “Thank you for thinking of me. I was on the way out and they looked so delicious. Forgive me for dipping my hand in the cookie jar too soon.”
She waves me off. “You’re welcome to anything on my table, darling. Once everything is done, I’ll send some over for you.”
“Thanks so much, Cora.” I give her a one-armed hug. “Really appreciate it.”
Over her shoulder, I throw Stefano a smug wink.
Yup. He definitely wants to murder me. In cold blood.
“Okay, I’m off!”
As I trek out of the house, munching on stolen treats, Cora comments to Stefano, “Sweet girl. Such a sweet, sweet girl.”
Ha!
Halfway through the main area, my grin falters at the sound of firm, confident footsteps closing in behind me.
They follow me straight to the door.
Crossing over the threshold, I turn to face him. “Need something?”
His stare is a sharp blade, slicing me open. “Just making sure you don’t steal anything else.”
He’s still on this? It’s no secret he’s a vain, avaricious, materialistic bastard, but this is ridiculous.
“Well, damn.” I gesture at the ornate door knocker. “This thing was looking a little tempting.”
I bite into a fresh cookie. Yum. White chocolate and pistachio.
“Why do you insist on hating me?” I muse, licking crumb from my lip. “You heard Cora. I’m a sweet, sweet girl.”
“The only thing sweet about you is the fragrance of your lies.” He leans in, close enough that I can feel the heat of him. “I. Don’t. Trust. You.”
Oh, sweet buttery biscotti, he smells divine.
If only I could freeze time, lean in, and nuzzle against that desert-tan skin, right beneath that sharp jawline, breathe him in like a bad idea I won’t regret. Instead, all I can do is focus on not getting bowled over by the sheer headiness of him.
“Poetic. I never would’ve pegged you for the purple prose type.” I offer my half-eaten treat. “Cookie?”
I’m being facetious. A preemptive defense mechanism. Anything to stop myself from blurting something insane like, “You smell so good I want to eat your face.” So I’m half expecting him to slap it out of my hand. Maybe even snap my wrist for good measure.
Anything except what he does…
Lean in closer and eat the entire offering right from my fingers. The brush of his warm tongue against my skin sending a sharp, electrifying thrill through me.
And while I’m still standing there, soft in the knees, pulse unsteady, he backs up and slams the door in my face.