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Yup. Paradise.
I’ve stayed in bed so long that Rosa comes barging into the room with nary a fucking knock, no doubt assuming I’m already gone by now. Because usually, I am.
She stops short, toting her cart behind her laden with cleaning products and a tray of food for Deirdre’s breakfast.
“Oh! Signore Titone! You’re still here.”
That’s about as much of an apology as I’m going to get from that stubborn woman, I guess.
“Not so loud,” I growl at Rosa, carefully pulling myself out of the blissful little nest I’ve been cocooned in with my Songbird until now. When I pull away, Deirdre gives a moan of complaint in her sleep that makes my cock and my heart pound in painful tandem.
She wiggles a bit, scooting forward until she’s occupying the warm place I left behind. She grabs onto my pillow, hugging it possessively and burying her face in it before giving a soft snore and then falling back into a deeper sleep.
Well. I’m pretty sure that’s the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen. It’s spooky, goddamn near unnatural, that someone can be that adorable while simultaneously so fucking beautiful it makes me feel like I’m bleeding somewhere inside.
I grab my pants from where I’ve left them on the floor last night, yanking them up and pulling the belt tight before I speak to Rosa again. She hasn’t moved from her spot just inside the doorway. Her eyes are wrinkled, narrowed, as they swing between Deirdre in the bed and me standing beside it.
She’s never seen Deirdre in my bed.
She’s never seen any woman in my bed because it does not fucking happen.
“This is where Deirdre will be sleeping from now on,” I tell Rosa in as hushed a tone as I can manage. My eyes dart down to Deirdre, but she’s still fast asleep, hugging my pillow and kind of making me want to die while she does it.
Rosa’s grey brows twitch upward in surprise, but she nods in acknowledgement all the same.
“And I expect you and everyone else to call her Ma’am, Mistress, or Mrs. Titone when you address her. Actually, scratch that. Just Mrs. Titone. Always Mrs. Titone.”
Rosa doesn’t recover from her surprise as quickly this time. She openly gawks at me. I hold her gaze steadily, just fucking daring her to say something about it. She’s one brave old lady, but even she knows not to put her foot entirely in it, so she swallows whatever questions she so obviously has and simply says, “Congratulazioni.”
“Grazie,” I tell her. “The wedding hasn’t happened yet, but preparations will begin immediately, so get ready for that. I’ll get Valentina on board for all the nitty gritty stuff.”
Deirdre gives a snort, as if even in her sleep she has to reject the idea.
“You can put her food there. Don’t start cleaning until she wakes up,” I tell Rosa, jerking my chin towards the bedside table nearest Deirdre as I scoop up yesterday’s shirt and put it back on. I’ll shower and get properly dressed later. Right now I’ve got something important I need to do. In fact, if it wasn’t so important, I wouldn’t be leaving her side for it.
But I do reluctantly, heading past Robbie at his station on the stairs and going to my office on the first floor. I’m not expecting to see anybody there, but Curse is outside the door, and unlike me he looks freshly showered.
“What is it?” I ask as I open the door into my office. He follows and shuts it behind me.
“I texted you.”
I don’t think I looked at my phone once last night. Too preoccupied with getting my Songbird settled.
And then fucking her.
It’s still in my back pocket from yesterday so I pull it out. There are two unread messages from Curse.
“You gonna tell me what they say or do I have to read them in front of you?” I ask, ignoring the text notifications in favour of flipping over to my security camera app so I can see what Deirdre’s doing. She’s still asleep, and I watch her unmoving form on the screen as Curse responds.
“Last night’s message isn’t much,” he says. “Just letting you know that Enzo and I took the bodies to Darragh’s warehouse like you wanted. The one from this morning is more important.” He raises his hands, as if to crack his knuckles, a habit of his, but he can’t because there’s something in his hand. A smooth, white envelope.
“What’s that?” I ask, seating myself at the leather chair behind my desk and putting down my phone.
“This is what the second text was about. It came this morning via messenger. They left it at the security booth at the gate. I haven’t opened it yet. I brought it straight here. But based on the writing on the front of the envelope I’ve gotta assume it’s from Darragh.”
I straighten up, reaching for the envelope which Curse hands over. There’s not much on the front of the envelope. It just says, A chara.
“What the fuck is a chara?” I ask Curse.
