Page 58 of Unravel Me

The beta has an apron tied around his waist and looks to be around forty-five. He has a large black beard and a sizable belly, yet something about his rather attractive, regular features makes me suspect he's not just the cook, but related to the rest of them.

As he and Emilio arrange the food, Renato turns to Veyron.

"So… a detective? That's an interesting and rather uncommon profession."

"Not anymore," Veyron answers swiftly. "A while back I inherited some money and a yacht from my uncle. I started my own company that handles both digital and traditional billboards all over the city, so I left my job as a detective's assistant."

Renato nods with understanding. "I get that. There's something satisfying about being your own boss. I took over my brother's company years ago, and I've never regretted it." Renato smiles faintly. "Hopefully Mauro will carry the torch after me."

I glance at Mauro tentatively. He's sitting on my right, and from here I can admire his classic profile. Damn… why does he have to be exactly my type?

Meanwhile, the rest of the people take their seats at the table, which confirms my suspicion that the beta in the apron is part of the family. Renato seems to realize he never introduced him, because he glances my way and says,

"Meet Tony. I employ him as our cook, but he's my nephew, Emilio's son," he says, gesturing toward the omega with the gold-wire glasses.

Only now do I notice the resemblance between them. I remember what Davos told me, that Emilio was widowed very young and had been living with Renato ever since, so Tony must have grown up here too.

At this point, I still haven't quite sorted out all their family connections in my head, but I don't want to start asking questions.

Still, there's one thing that's strange. While I'm being introduced to everyone, no one actually introduces me to anyone… as if it isn't necessary. So, what’s going on?

We start eating, and although the food is incredibly rich and calorie-heavy, it's delicious. Something about it makes me wonder if I might have eaten something from this kitchen before. Maybe a hearty broth. What an interesting thought. I quickly brush it aside.

Then my attention drifts back to more interesting things, like the fact that Mauro is sitting so close to me. He even seems to have his chair pulled a little closer to mine than people would normally sit. Could it be intentional?

One of his forearms rests on the table beside me. An intricate tattoo winds across it, beautifully artistic, full of vines and botanical details. It looks like a name hidden among all the ornamentation, though it's difficult to read.

The first letter is probably a 'J'.

I can't make out the second one yet.

What I do notice, though, is how beautifully golden his skin is, as though it's permanently kissed by the sun. The veins beneath it stand out in incredibly sexy lines.

His arms are very muscular, clearly sculpted by years of training. My eyes drift down to his hands, and something about them feels strangely familiar. Their shape… it's almost as though I've felt hands like these on my body before, but that can't be possible.

I look back at his profile. Mauro has strikingly Italian features, while his nose is more of a classic Greek type, straight and elegant. And those full lips… and that perfectly sculpted jaw!

I watch him with fascination, captivated by his unbelievably thick lashes casting delicate shadows across his cheeks, the way they curve upward in a soft, natural sweep.

Mine are long too, but they're much lighter, like many blond people's, so I usually darken them with a lash tint.

Damn it, I have this overwhelming urge to brush my fingers against his forearm. It's resting so close to mine that I can actually feel the warmth radiating from it. I can't tell if I'm imagining it or if he's been stealing subtle glances at me too. Every now and then, I catch his eyes drifting toward my forearms before looking away again.

Meanwhile, Renato keeps talking with Veyron, telling him about the family business. Their company is called Santoro Timber & Constructions, and it turns out they own vast stretches of forest around here, along with several sawmills, timber purchasing centers, lumber yards, and a company specializing in handcrafted log homes. Mauro, apparently, manages a whole collection of rental cabins for vacationers through the business.

As they talk, my gaze keeps wandering back to his tattoo.

The second letter is definitely an 'a'. I'm almost certain of it. 'Ja…'

Could the third one be an 'r' or not?

My heart gives a strange little leap.

Across the table, the elderly omega, Silvio, watches me with a faint, knowing smile. I have a feeling he's noticed me studying the tattoo, so I quickly pretend to focus on the plate piled high with warm cornetti, bruschetta, roasted vegetables, and slices of prosciutto.

It only lasts a few seconds before my eyes drift back again to that sun-kissed skin, where floral patterns weave around letters hidden so carefully within the design. I've got the J. I've got the A. What's the third one? So. Is it an 'r'… or an 'n'? No… I think it's an 'r'. The upper stroke is shorter than it would be in an 'n'.

Jar…