Page 13 of The Taste of Deceit

“Maybe I like you taking care of me.”

The teasing leaves her face almost immediately.

“I do like taking care of you.”

My hand slides into her hair, and I tilt her face toward mine. Her eyes drift closed before I even kiss her. When I do, she makes a quiet sound and immediately kisses me back. One hand settles against my chest while mine stays buried in her hair.

When I pull back, her forehead bumps lightly against mine.

“You feeling better?”

She nods, so I kiss her once more.

“Good.”

The next morning, I press a kiss to her forehead before slipping out of bed. I leave her exactly where she is, buried beneath the blankets and dead to the world. I know better than to wake her up. I made that mistake once near the beginning of our relationship and learned a valuable lesson. Sarah before seven in the morning is not the same woman I live with the other twenty-three hours of the day.

Instead, I send her a text when I get to the estate to pick Mikey up.

Me: Morning, Baby Girl. Enjoy your day off. Love you.

I tuck my phone back into my pocket and get out of the SUV. Maria already has the front door open by the time I make it up the steps.

“Morning, Maria.”

“Good morning, Mr. Luca. Mr. Amato is waiting for you in his office.”

I nod and head inside.

The house is already awake. Staff moves quietly through the halls carrying fresh flowers, folded linens, and trays of coffee. Sunlight pours through the massive windows lining the back of the house, casting long shadows across the marble floors. Somewhere upstairs, I hear a vacuum running. Outside, groundskeepers are already working their way across the property.

A place this size never really stops. There are people here before sunrise and people here long after midnight. Somebody is always cleaning something, fixing something, maintaining something. The estate looks effortless from the outside, but it takes a small army to keep it that way.

Most days, I don’t even think about it. I’ve been walking these halls since I was a kid. Back then, I used to follow Mikey around the house because I wanted to be wherever he was. Twenty years later, not much has changed.

I make my way down the hallway and stop outside the office. After one knock, his voice carries through the door.

“Come in.”

I step inside. Mikey is sitting behind his desk. Marco occupies one of the chairs across from him.

“Boss. Marco.”

They greet me with matching nods, and I take the empty chair beside Marco.

Marco closes one folder and reaches for another.

“Frank Esposito called this morning. He requested a meeting.”

Frank isn’t the type to ask for a meeting unless there’s a reason for it. Most captains handle their own problems. By the time something reaches Mikey’s desk, it’s usually because somebody needs an answer only he can give.

“About Tony?” Mikey asks.

“Yeah.” Marco opens the file in front of him. “Tony got jumped three days ago. He’s been in the infirmary since then.”

I’ve known Tony most of my life. Everybody has. He’s married, has three kids, and has been serving his sentence without causing problems. Hearing he got into a fight would be one thing. Hearing he got put in the infirmary is something else entirely.

Mikey leans back in his chair.