He finished his food then studied me for a while, his eyes taking in my features as if it was the first time he’d seen me in a long time. “I think those days might be over.”
We lay in bed together, my thigh hooked over his hip with his hands on my ass. He was a big man who took up most of the bed, and his muscled mass heated the sheets like there was a roaring fire underneath us. His fingers kneaded my ass as he looked at me, the two of us sharing a single pillow.
“Why were you only fifteen minutes away when I texted?”
“I was at the house.”
“What house?”
“The one I bought.”
My eyebrows rose. “The one we looked at like four days ago?”
“Yeah. I waived all the contingencies, wired the money, and finished the deal quickly.”
“Why did you move in such a rush? Was there another buyer?”
“No. I’m just tired of commuting.”
He’d stayed at my place so often, it hadn’t seemed like he’d commuted that frequently. “Did you sell your old place?”
“No, I love it. I’d never sell that place.”
“In Palermo?”
“Yes. You ever been?”
“A couple times.”
“I’d still like to show it to you,” he said. “Have you stay for a weekend.”
“Yeah, that would be nice,” I said. “So, that means you’ve moved in?”
“Some of my clothes. Purchased new stuff for everything else. I’m looking for a house manager or a butler. It’s hard to find the right person for a job like that.”
“What about the one you have in Palermo?”
He shook his head. “Her family is in Palermo, so she’s not interested in leaving. I get it.”
“If you aren’t there anymore, are you going to let her go?”
“No. The house will fall into disarray without someone there. She still cleans and maintains it. And if I ever make an impromptu visit, it’ll be ready for my arrival.”
I knew the price of the place he’d bought, slightly north of twenty million euro, and he’d bought it in cash without breaking a sweat. I wasn’t sure what my father paid his men, but I knew it wasn’t that kind of money. “Sounds like you did well with Cosa Nostra.”
“Yeah. And I worked for them for a long time.”
“I gotta imagine my father’s work is a major pay cut.”
He smirked. “A bit. But I’m not in it for the money.”
“But you could get killed.”
“It’s what gets me up every morning. Well, that used to be the case…before you.”
“Getting killed is what gets you up?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. If I’m not on the cusp of death, I get anxiety.”
