Page 52 of The Boss

She turns her head away, biting her lip.

Grabbing her face again, I turn her back to me. “I have wanted you for the last ten years, and the last two years since that night have been torture. Every moment we’ve had alone, I’ve wanted to ask you about that night. If you remember, if you regret it. But I couldn’t bring myself to ask because I couldn’t live with myself if you told me you hated it.”

“I didn’t hate it,” she whispers.

“Thank God for that. Please let me kiss you again, Bella.”

She nods her head, and I lean in.

Kissing her feels like coming home. The biggest regret I have in life when it comes to Juliet is not asking her about that night sooner. If I did, we would have been out of this push and pull we’ve been having for years. I pull back slightly, and she gives me a soft smile.

“What does that mean?” she whispers.

“What?” I reply.

“Bella? You call me that a lot.”

I smile. “It means ‘beautiful’ in Italian.” Her breath hitches when I say it. “And I mean it, Juliet, you are beautiful.”

“Gino, isn't this forbidden? I work for you.”

“Juliet, you’ve never worked for me; we’re partners in this. You’re my equal just like everyone here.”

“That’s not how it works.” She rolls her eyes.

“Jules, when this idea sprouted in college, everyone who signed on was always going to be considered equal to one another. Sure, my name carries the weight, but we are still a team. One that works together and relies on each other. And now Vanessa has joined us, so we can handle anything that comes our way.”

I sigh. “This will piss you off, so take it with a pinch of salt, but every time your paycheck is deposited into your account and you make a purchase, it comes out of mine. I had Drew change your autopay settings.”

“What the fuck? Are you serious? That’s an invasion of privacy,” she yells.

“You say tomayto, I say tomahto.”

She shoves me away and huffs.

She throws up her hands, turning back to me. “You’re impossible; you can’t just pay my bills like that.”

“I have, and I will continue to do so,” I say to her.

“Do you hear yourself? That’s possessive as hell,” she fires back.

“Maybe it’s a little possessive⁠—”

“A little,” she scoffs. “Again, do you hear yourself? My dad warned me, you mafia men are all the same.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I ask.

“It means that no matter how hard you try, you are just like the rest of them. Controlling, impulsive, and ruthless.”

This is not how I expected this conversation to go. Did I catch her off guard with the paying her bills statement? Most definitely. My sister did mention I’d eventually piss her off, so I would need to grovel to get back on her good side. No time like the present, I guess.

“Bella—”

“Don’t call me that,” she snaps, crossing her arms around herself and stepping back.

“I know I shouldn’t be doing that, but I want to do that for you. I want you to be able to do things freely,” I say.

“You should have told me,” she whispers, cowering within herself. She’s headstrong and challenges me in the right way. But right now she isn’t; she’s hurt. I hate seeing her like this.