Chapter 7
Zeno
Clara’s incessant moaning about my lack of an espresso maker last fall had driven me to purchase one, if for no other reason than to get her to shut up.
Now, nearly a year later, it was that morning shot of espresso that got me moving each day.
Putting my cell phone on speaker on the counter, I fiddled with the damn machine, trying to get it right the first time.
Espresso, steamed milk, add a pump of caramel syrup.
Add another after checking to make sure no one was watching.
A year of her practically living with me had me constantly looking over my shoulder.
That’s what frustrated me about last night. I was supposed to get a three-week reprieve. She was supposed to use the time between the summer and fall semesters to go out and act like a twenty-year-old, rather than hanging around my place, pestering me anytime she wasn’t studying.
I took a sip from my latte and let out a sigh, trying to get back to the topic at hand. “If he doesn’t want to be a doctor, why are they trying to force him to be?”
When Mario Provenza responded a long moment later, it sounded like he was talking from the other side of the world, instead of on the other side of the Atlantic.
“Prestige. They want him to follow in his father’s footsteps.
” He sighed, then hissed across the line, “They seem to get off on controlling people’s lives. ”
The hairs on my neck rose, and I glanced toward the kitchen door.
“It’s a power trip, Zeno. Father can throw his weight around, either back home in New York or here in Italy, and the family will listen.”
A pained breath left me. “Except for those two.”
“Nadia never fell in line. That’s why Father forced her to marry Damiano. To keep her under control.”
“And now Damiano’s gone, and Michele is stepping out of line.”
“The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.”
I took a sip from my latte, staring out the little window above the sink. It looked like a beautiful day. Not a cloud in the sky. Nothing to stop Clara from getting out of my house and having some fun somewhere far away from me.
“I think we should bring them home.”
Blinking away the sunny skies, I asked, “We?”
“You’re the only one who listens to reason. The only one who agrees that Mic shouldn’t be forced to become a doctor when he so clearly wants something else. Maybe you can talk some sense into Father after Nadia and Mic are home safe.”
“Safe?” I nearly sputtered my drink all over the window. “You think she’s in danger?”
“I think the family will not stop until Mic’s life is secured the way they want it. The only way either of them will be able to make their own decisions is if we get them out of here.”
My pulse thudded out a heavy beat in my throat, the sound of my blood sloshing in my ears throwing off the roll of the timpani in the symphony coming out of the speakers in the other room. I had the sudden urge to run, hop on a plane and fly to Italy to rescue the very first patient I’d ever had.
“What do you need?” I finally asked, forcing myself to put my mug on the counter so I didn’t spill my drink down the front of my shirt.
“You’ll help me?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
Mario hesitated and the wait made my skin itch. I glanced over my shoulder, but no one was there. I grabbed my phone off the counter and pressed it to my ear just as he said, “Can I get back to you?”
“You really didn’t expect me to agree, did you?”
He huffed out a breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was quieter but more clear. “One can never tell how long his reach is. But I’m grateful for your help, Zeno. I’ll get back to you as soon as I speak with them.”
“Tell Nadia I’ll do whatever I can to help them. She’s not in this alone.”
“Thank you.”
“Don’t mention it.”
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
My phone rattled against the counter as I tossed it back down and picked up my coffee. With one long, fortifying sip—because it felt like my offer of help was a declaration of war—I started to turn around, only to get pinned against the counter as two arms wrapped around me from behind.
Fucking hell.
This girl. She grew up in the Syndicate.
She knew what could happen if she snuck up on me or any of the other men and women who’d been trained to take out threats without a second thought.
Yet she still clung to me the way she had when she was just a child, burying her face in my skin and holding on like I was the most important thing in her life.
And fuck. It felt too good to yell at her. It made my insides weak and warm, made my mind fuzzy while she drove me to distraction. Made me want to turn around and hold her like she could somehow fill that aching void that lived in my chest.
I heard her suck in a long breath. I expected her to let me loose and run along like she always had in the past.
But she didn’t.
Just clung to me like this was somehow okay.
“Clara?”
“Hmm?” She burrowed against me, pressing her face to the bare skin of my back.
I tapped her wrist. “You okay?”
Her head bobbed against me before she murmured, “Thank you.”
“For what?” This time, when I tapped her arm, she loosened her grip. I turned toward her, only for her to trap me there in her arms once again, this time with her face pressed to my chest.
She peered up at me, those big brown eyes glittering in the light of the sun shining through the window at my back. “For taking care of me. For letting me stay here last night.”
When did she get so tall? When did she grow until her face reached my chest, rather than my legs or my gut?
When did she get so soft? Her skin, her breasts pressed into my body as she held me tight.
Blinking as if I could blink away my indecent thoughts, I peered down into her pretty eyes and willed the blood flowing through my body to not make this whole thing worse.
My hands itched to hold her, to grab her, to spread her open and taste those full lips and all the secrets and lies that skated across her tongue.
“Of course.” My voice was a broken rasp. I cleared my throat and tried again. “Sure thing, kid.”
She lowered her chin, once again pressing her face against my skin.
I needed her to step away, to step back out of my grip before the scent of her turned me into a beast. Already, my mind was a whirl of thoughts I shouldn’t be having about her, and my dick was taking notice of her closeness and her warmth.
I needed to get laid.
I needed to sink my dick into someone.
Someone other than this girl.
“You want a coffee?” I tried, struggling to tame the storm she caused in my body. But even though she nodded, she didn’t let me go. “You want me to make it for you?”
Again, she nodded. And again, she didn’t move.
“Is something wrong?”
This time, my little hurricane lifted her gaze to mine, but not before she sniffed and shrugged her shoulder until she’d wiped it across her cheek. “Why would anything be wrong?”
Something was most definitely wrong with me. The minute I saw her wet lashes, the tiny streak of moisture across the skin on her bare shoulder, I wanted to grill her until she told me who the fuck hurt her so I could murder them in their sleep.
When I lifted my hand to her chin, she tried to look away.
When I forced her chin up, her eyes darted to the side.
There was my Clara. The flighty little thing that always had her mind in the clouds and couldn’t be bothered to focus on you when you tried to talk to her about something she didn’t like.
“Tell me what’s going on, Clara.”
She shrugged, dropping her arms and trying to step back. I held on to her, tightening my grip on her chin. Those pretty eyes widened, darting between me and every-fucking-thing around me without once settling. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just nervous about you teaching me to drive today.”
It felt like she slammed a fist to my gut.
I dropped my hand from her face, turning toward the counter to pick up my drink and get the hell away from her. “I didn’t say we’d do it today.”
“Oh.” She sounded so dejected, and when I peeked over my shoulder at her, I found her lost in her head once more, her fingernail digging into her skin under her collarbone.
I grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand away from her chest so she didn’t make herself bleed.
“When…” She lowered her attention to the empty kitchen counter, ignoring her hand in my grip. “When do you think…? Will it be soon?”
Was she shaking? Her voice sure was. And the sound of it made me want to take her into my arms, hold her against my chest until she was the strong, feisty little whirlwind I’d always known.
With my hand stretching in her direction, even though I was sure I’d regret everything that came next, the girl took the chance offered to her and rushed back into my arms.
A quiet sigh left her lips, and it almost sounded like a cry. That was enough to make me cave.
“We’ll go today.”
She tightened her grip around me. “You mean it?”
I wrapped her up tight and put my chin on the top of her head. “I mean it. But you have to promise you’ll listen to me and do what I say. No messing around. No goofing off.”
Her “I promise” came without a fight, and it made my stomach tie itself in a knot and my scalp prickle as something in the back of my head screamed too easy.
It was too easy. I didn’t believe her promise for one second.
“Why don’t I make you a coffee while you go get dressed? Then you can have some breakfast before we go.”
Clara lifted her head, a decadent smile on her face.
She lifted on her toes, fitting her face under my chin until her lips touched the throbbing beat of my pulse in my throat.
I froze, barely catching the moan that tried to tear free from my chest, unable to do a thing about my dick rising in my pants.
My God, this woman.
This girl.
This kid.
She was just a kid. That’s it. She was off limits. Unavailable to me. And my reaction to this twenty-year-old was so unreasonable it was almost enough to soften my hard-on.
Almost.
But not quite.
“Thank you, Zee,” she whispered, her lips brushing against my flesh and causing my erection to throb with the kind of need I’d never felt before.
“Don’t mention it,” I rasped out, taking her by the shoulders and pushing her away. “Now go get dressed. I’ll get your coffee, then I‘m going to hop in the shower.”
I turned toward the espresso machine, hiding what she’d done to me against the counter until she was out of sight. After rushing through making her coffee, I dashed up to my third-floor bedroom, jumping into the shower with the water as cold as it could get.
I cursed my erection.
I cursed myself.
I cursed Clara, for being the one thing I couldn’t control.