By doing this, was he abandoning his past? Never. Was he walking toward his future? He didn’t know.
Her outstretched hand surprised him.
Was that a lifeline?
Take it.
He clasped her hand. “Stuart.”
Stuart exited the vehicle. “Sir.”
“Take the Rolls Royce home and pick me up here at eight tomorrow morning.”
“Where’s your vest, Mr. Santini?”
“Office and home.”
“I’ll bring you one of mine,” Stuart said.
“Thank you for doing such an outstanding job, Stuart.”
A prideful smile filled Stuart’s face before he ducked inside the vehicle and drove away.
Luciano glanced around Simone’s quiet neighborhood before they headed for the front door. Once inside, she closed the living room blinds while he bolted the front door.
“C’mon in,” she said. “Are you hungry?”
He couldn’t stomach food. “I’m good. Can I make you something?”
Her sad smile cut through him. “I can’t eat. How ‘bout a Santini whiskey?”
“That’ll work.”
In the kitchen, she flipped on the pendant lights over the center island and dimmed their brightness. He sat on a counter stool, his gaze cemented on her. She was composed, but he sensed that angst lurked below her cool exterior. After she dropped her suit jacket over a chair, then removed her Glock and shoulder holster, she poured two glasses from a brand new bottle.
“Did you buy that for me?” he asked.
“Guilty,” she replied.
He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. “I don’t care how fucking unprofessional this is. I need to know you’re okay.”
She hugged him hard and he held her close. A calmness washed over him. Something he hadn’t felt in a long time. After a moment, he kissed her forehead, broke away.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
Big green eyes peered up at him. “Hell, no. Are you?”
I’m never okay.
“I care about you, Simone.”
“I’m scared.”
“I’ll protect you.”
“I’m scared of how I feel about you,” she whispered.
“Howdoyou feel?”
