It was shattering the rules he’d set for himself. He had never let his anger turn him into something dangerous, nor would he ever surrender his moral compass by asking the Italian mob for help. But for Kara? The answer was blindly clear. He’d do anything for her.Anything.
“Angelo?” Kara reached out and took one of his hands, holding it.
Could she feel those tremors? Would she think he wasn’t strong enough to protect her?
He met her gaze, her worried eyes were large, luminous and full of questions. He couldn’t tell her what he was feeling, he couldn’t show her how terrified he was of what he was about to do, to go against everything he’d believed in for so long for her. She’d never be okay with it. It would destroy her and she’d run. He couldn’t stop what was coming, but he could delay it for a bit by distracting her.
“Are you hungry?” he changed the subject.
Please be hungry, he thought. Cooking would calm him down.
“Yes?” she answered with uncertainty and that did quite a bit to dispel the rage in him.
“You aren’t sure?” he asked with a hint of teasing.
“Yes, I meanyes. I’m sure. I’m hungry,” she replied with finality, and he chuckled, which eased the remaining tension in his chest.
“I’m going to teach you how to make spaghetti.”
Her eyes narrowed. “But that’s easy. You just throw the noodles in the pot and?—”
“Oof!” He mimed being stabbed in the heart. “Kara,tesoro mio, that is grocery store spaghetti. I will teach you how to make your own pasta noodles and sauce. All by hand.”
“Oh?” Her brows furrowed. “Is it hard? I’m not a good cook.”
Angelo pulled her close, still holding her hand in one of his as he used his other palm to cup her cheek.
“That’s why I’m going to teach you.”
“Okay.” She smiled a little more relaxed. “This could be fun.”
Behind Kara, Asher passed through the living room with a window repairman behind him. The bedroom window would be fixed today and Angelo was relieved there would be no reminder of Kara’s attempt to run. He wanted her to feel safe enough to stay with him. Kara’s trust and safety were such a fragile thing,and he feared anything he did or that happened would send her running.
He wanted her to stay, wanted to know if what he felt could lead to something more… if she felt the same.
He knew he was obsessed, was fascinated… wastangled upin her in a way he’d never been with anyone else. It wasn’t because he wanted to play the rescuer, the hero, no it was something entirely different. Even now as she stood in the kitchen with him, helping him collect ingredients when he told her where they were, it was so…normal, so real in a way that made everything else feel… so unimportant.
The world seemed to stop when she was near. Everything was calm, utterly still. Like he was standing outside on dark, snowy night, and the snowflakes hung suspended in the air all around him as he drew in a deep breath and clarity filled his entire being. He wanted to spend the rest of his life beside Kara, watching her taste life’s pleasures, share her joys and be her port when storms of grief swept the vast seas of her heart. He wanted to be everything and anything she needed. When he was with her, he felt like the most alive version of himself he’d ever been. Being with her felt easy, because he could be himself.
“Angelo?” Kara asked, her blue eyes soft and wide, her dark golden lashes framing the windows to her wounded soul. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” He tried to smile but the depth of his emotions at the moment were almost overpowering.
He cleared his throat. “First we need some aprons.” He dug around in the drawers where he kept his dozens of aprons and pulled out two. He tossed one on himself and then helped Kara into hers. He tied the strings at her lower back and gave her hips a gentle squeeze before he brushed his lips against her cheek from behind. She shivered in his arms and he closed hiseyes briefly, relishing holding her against him. Then he forced himself to let her go.
He retrieved flour and eggs from where Kara had placed them on another counter and set up a station on the kitchen island counter where opened his container of fine Italian flour. He sifted the flour into the appropriate measuring cups and showed Kara the next step.
“You make a mountain here on the counter.” He showed her how to push the flour into a mound like a volcano. “Now you ball your fist.” She balled her fist immediately at his direction. “And press it down into the center of the flour mountain to create a crater.”
Angelo cracked two eggs and let her drop the egg yolks and whites into the crater Kara had made with her hand.
“Then you use a fork,” he instructed. “I want you to break the yolks and whisk them together inside the crater.”
“Okay.” She whisked with excellent skill and then waited for the next instructions.
“That was well done. Where did you learn to whisk like that?”
Her cheeks colored with a rosy blush. “I’ve worked at a few diners. I never learned to cook on a grill, but I did whip up the occasional scrambled egg or too. Eggs were the cheapest protein I could afford so eggs were my go-to meal for breakfast.”
