I crossed the room slowly, giving her time to step back if she wanted to. She didn’t. I took the coffee from her hand and set it aside, then lifted my fingers to her jaw, pressing just enough to make sure she looked at me.
“My mother is going to love you,” I said. “My sister will attempt to adopt you within the hour. My father will pretend to be terrifying for five minutes before my mother glares him into behaving. And if any of them fail to see what I do, then I’ll be forced to reevaluate the intelligence of my entire bloodline.”
That got a real laugh out of her.
Better.
“Pietro…”
“Come with me,” I said again, quieter. “Let me show you.”
She searched my face for a long moment, and I let her. There was no point rushing her now. If she said yes, I wanted it to be because she meant it.
Finally she let out a slow breath.
“One day,” she said. “Maybe two. Then we go to my sister.”
Relief crashed through me so hard and fast I had to work not to show too much of it.
“Done.”
“And if you ask me to answer your phone again, I’m leaving.”
This time I did smile. “That seems extreme.”
“It seems wise.”
“Fair enough.”
She shook her head, but she was smiling now too, and when I pulled her into me a second later, the yes in her body felt just as real as the one she had spoken.
Chicago,I thought, pressing my mouth to her hair.
This should be interesting.
CHAPTER 15
EMILY
Iconsidered myself a reasonably intelligent person. Sensible, even. A woman with a good head on her shoulders and, unfortunately, truly catastrophic taste in men.
That theory felt particularly well supported as I stepped off a private plane with my suitcase in hand and found a black sedan waiting below, a uniformed driver already standing by the open door.
“Impressive the first time, isn’t it?” Olivero murmured near my ear.
I glanced at him and smiled despite the nerves trying to stage a full mutiny in my stomach. Over the past few weeks, the more time I had spent in Pietro’s apartment, the more familiar I became with Olivero and the strange, ridiculous dynamic between the two of them. It made me laugh far more often than I probably should have.
“One step back, Oli,” Pietro said from behind us, his voice edged. “And stop pestering my girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
That one word was enough to make my palms dampen all over again.
Olivero put a hand to his chest. “We commoners must support one another.”
Pietro’s eyes narrowed, and just like that he seemed to stand a little straighter, the shift in him subtle but unmistakable. It was the first time I had seen that side of him this clearly. Not just confidence. Authority.
“You are hardly a commoner, Oliverio Moretti,” he said dryly. “Son of the capo’s head enforcer.”
