Chapter 11
Leo
I open up the nightstand drawer and peek inside. There’s a gun and a couple of books there. On top of the table is a lamp, and it matches the one on the other side. A picture of me would be great right there.
This place is the antithesis of mine. It’s swanky and screams money. Not only that, it’s really freaking cool. I’ve only seen homes this nice in movies. Wait, is it a house or mansion? How does one know the difference?
“Can I help you find anything?” Mattia asks when I stroll into the bathroom and past the pool that I believe is a bathtub.
“Nope.” I start opening all the drawers in there too and shuffling things around. “I’m nosy.”
I might also be making sure I don’t see any girly crap around here, but he doesn’t need to know that.
“You don’t say.”
A sexy chuckle rumbles from him, making my nipples harden. My body is still humming from the orgasm he gave me in the car. I should be the one paying him for what he did to me, but that’s not happening.
“Where’s the safe?” I ask, spinning back around to face him.
“Which one?”
“There’s more than one?!” That’s so cool. “I mean, I have two, but I’m guessing you mean you have a handful. I don’t have the space.”
“Four.”
Oh, I’m going to have fun finding all of them. “Are they in sneaky places?”
“I suppose you could say that.”
I drop my voice, even though I believe we’re alone right now, but this place is massive. People could be roaming around. There has to be a staff.
“Do any of them have gold bars?” That’s the first thing I put in my safe.
“I’m sure that can be arranged,” he says.
I walk out of the bathroom and over to the giant fireplace in the bedroom. There’s a massive painting hanging over it, and I grab the corner.
“Leo!” Mattia shouts when I pull on it and the painting starts to fall.
One second I’m standing there, and the next I’m scooped into Mattia’s arms and moved out of the way. The painting comes tumbling down, and my stomach drops.
“That’s not my fault,” I tell him in shock. “TVs go above fireplaces, so I assumed this was a trick photo or something. How can I be blamed for this?”
I’ve been framed… in more ways than one.
“You’re going to be a handful.”
“Two,” I correct, wiggling in his arms to prove my point. He puts me back on my feet, and I see that the canvas has been punctured. I sheepishly peek over at him. “That wasn’t expensive, right?”
“You’re worth more.”
“I know that’s right.” Oh my god, I’m trying to downplay his comments because it gives me all the girly feels. “But really, was it expensive?” I ask again, feeling a tiny bit guilty if it is.
“It’s fine,” he says and waves it off.
“Thank goodness.” I puff out a breath. “Besides, it was ugly. I did you a favor.”
“I appreciate that, but Andy Warhol might not.”
I don’t have a clue who that is, but I’m pretty sure he failed art class.
“Now you can get a TV like a normal person.”
“I don’t believe either of us is normal.”
“Fair point.” I nod, giving the room a final inspection. “This will do, I suppose.”
“Good, it was your only option.” He undoes the top few buttons of his shirt and then rolls up his sleeves. Holy hell, even his forearms are sexy. The veins in them stand out when he flexes.
“Is this your room?” The bathroom makes me believe that, but the room is empty of personal items.
“Our room.”
“That works for me. I need a bodyguard. My name must be getting out there. Why else would someone have tried to steal me today? I’m a threat, and they know it.”
“You’re not wrong.” He gives me one of his deadly smirks that does things to my body.
“I know, I never am.”
“Come on, sweetheart, I’ll feed you and then we’ll unpack your things.”
“I don’t cook,” I let him know. “I mean, I can, but it doesn’t always turn out well.”
“I think for our safety and the house’s, we keep it that way.” He takes my hand, leading me back downstairs.
“This place really is impressive,” I admit when we get to the kitchen. I run my hand along the marble counters. “I’m scared to touch anything.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he says as I lift the lid to a jar and peek inside.
“What?” I reach inside and grab the cookie that distracted me. I cringe when I drop the lid back down too hard, and the glass clicks loudly. I hate the sound of glass on glass.
“Nothing,” he says with a chuckle.
“These are good.” I take a bite and then brush off the crumbles that fall onto my chest.
“I can’t take the credit. Bea comes and stocks my things once a week in case I come home.”
That gives me pause, and I feel a rush of jealousy that has me regretting not bringing my mace with me. I remind myself that there’s a gun in the nightstand, but I’ve never used one before. It can’t be too hard, right? Dumbasses run around with them all the time.
“You can only have one sugar baby at a time,” I snap out, and Mattia turns back around from the fridge to stare at me.
“Sugar baby?” He lifts one amused brow. “I promise you’re the first and only.”
“Better keep it that way,” I warn. “Since meeting you, I’ve realized that I may not be the most rational person.”
I point my finger gun at him so that he reads me loud and clear before polishing off my cookie. I might be overlooking a few red flags too, but I’m a walking red flag, so no judgment there.
“You’re not the only one,” he says as he places a few containers on the counter.
“What does that mean?” I ask as I hoist myself up on the kitchen island. “You’re not being rational either?” He shrugs. “That’s not good. We can’t both not be rational.”
“I’ll keep you safe.”
“Who will keep me safe from you?” I tease, but Mattia’s face remains serious.
“No one.”