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“Help yourself to anything in the kitchen,” he said, before adding in an amused drawl, “Though, I can see you’ve already done that.”
“When does your cook come? I would like to meet her.” Maybe she would be kind enough to give me some pointers, though that might not be such a great idea, because as soon as I learned I would want to find her other employment. The idea of having my own home to run was an unexpected thrill, no matter if I had to share it with Nico.
“Isabel comes Mondays and Thursdays. She cleans too.”
She’d been here yesterday, yet his room was such a mess? Maybe he was weird about his things. I shook it off.
“Do you have a computer I can use? I need to help Mamma with some of the wedding details.”
“There’s a laptop in my office. You can use that. And”—he pulled out his wallet and tossed a black credit card on the counter—“for all that money you spend.”
I didn’t like the personal nature of spending this man’s money. Especially with the idea of his bank information already in my duffel bag upstairs. “I don’t need it. I have my papà’s,” I replied, pulling my bottom lip in between my teeth.
“You’ll use mine from now on.” His tone was non-negotiable as he put his watch on.
Translation: I own you now, not your papà.
I nodded, but then stilled when the pad of his thumb pulled down on my bottom lip until it escaped my teeth. “Don’t tempt me,” he said with a harshness that touched my skin. It wasn’t lost on me that he spoke of the kissing variety of temptation.
My breath caught somewhere in my chest. How much I wanted to run my tongue across his thumb, to pull it into my mouth. It was an itch I could hardly stop, and I knew he saw the desire on my face.
His eyes burned like coal, and his thumb brushed across my lips, daring me to do it. A shiver rocked through me. I wasn’t that brave and we both knew it. He took a step back and slipped his hands into his pockets, leaving a warm imprint on my lips.
He glanced at his cousin, who sat with his elbows on his knees watching the game.
“Luca will stay here with you. In my office.”
Luca’s broad shoulders tensed under his white dress shirt. “Ace—”
“If you need to reach me, you can use his phone until we get you one tomorrow,” he told me, grabbing his keys from the counter.
Luca stood to his incredible height that had to be six and a half feet. “I’m not a babysitter, boss.”
I stared forward, saying a silent prayer that Nico wouldn’t leave this man with me.
“You are until I can find a gay cousin,” Nico returned dryly.
I closed my eyes.
It was safe to say that wouldn’t happen, considering the Cosa Nostra was a worse advocate for the LGBT community than they were for the women’s movement. It was a work in progress.
Luca’s jaw ticked.
Nico opened the back door, but then paused. “Elena?”
“Yeah?”
“Burn that shirt.” He then left without another word.
I glanced down at my pink Yankees t-shirt. I guessed Nico was a Red Sox fan.
We really wouldn’t work out now.
Luca eyed me like he wanted to wrap his big hands around my throat and squeeze.
Nerves played beneath my skin.
“There’s no TV in his office,” he said eventually.
