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“Sexy.”
“You know it.” I stretched, mentally flipping through my visitor possibilities.
“Guy looks like a cop.”
I passed Lydia in the kitchen, the smell of microwave popcorn thick in the air, and swung open the front door to—bonus points to Meredith—an old guy. Six feet tall, in a suit, with thinning hair and a military-precise stance. For a senior citizen, he was in shape, thick and muscular, with a glare that would get me to confess almost anything. “Can I help you?”
The man’s eyes moved to Meredith, who peered over my right shoulder, then back to me. “Miss Hartley, if I could have a word in private.”
I looked past him and saw what Meredith missed, the Rolls Royce idling behind her car, its headlights dimmed. I elbowed my roommate back, lowering my voice. “I got this.”
I stepped out on the porch and pulled the door behind me, ignoring the man and heading toward the car, my socks moving silently down the concrete drive until I was beside the Rolls and knocking on the window, the glass moving beneath my knuckles. Dario Capece was unveiled, and my heart both cracked and soared at the sight of him.
I crossed my arms over my chest and attempted to appear aloof. “Too fancy to ring your own doorbells?”
The window stopped, and the glint of his watch caught the streetlight. I couldn’t see him well, his features dim, but his voice was clear and firm, and tugged at every string of arousal I had. “I was trying to be discreet.”
Behind me, there was the snap of a lighter, and I turned to watch the older man lean against our front porch column, his cigarette glowing to life. I looked over the glossy curves of the Rolls. “This car isn’t exactly discreet.”
It was small talk, useless words that danced around what I should be saying. I told you not to contact me.
He nodded to the passenger side. “Get in. I want to show you something.”
I tucked a chunk of dirty hair behind my ear and cursed myself for being so slack. I should have showered. Brushed my hair. Should have been at least slightly optimistic that Dario Capece would put up a bit of a fight.
His eyes caught the movement, and I watched as his gaze moved down my body, taking in the outfit. “Nice socks.”
My socks didn’t match—one gray, one white, and I huffed in irritation. I’d bet someone laid out his socks each morning. I’d bet they were in perfect neat rolls in their own special drawer in his closet.
“Come on. You don’t need shoes. Get in.”
I frowned. “Your mom ever teach you how to say please?”
His mouth twitched, and the playful glint in his eyes almost melted my panties right off. “Please get in the car.”
I opened the door to a car worth more than my life and entered an interior that reeked of wealth. I shut the door and locked myself in with the one man I should avoid, the one I had promised Lance and Rick to stay away from.
I should be afraid of him, of everything in his world and the risks that he carried. Instead, I got into his car, without my phone or purse or shoes, and trusted him to keep me safe. He waved at his driver, then rolled up the window and turned to me.
“I’m sorry for coming by so late.”
I said nothing, tucking my palms underneath my thighs and watching as the driver got in. A divider rose with a quiet hum, blocking him from our view. I nodded in the general direction of the front seat. “Who’s the guy?”
Dario stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankle, and I peeked at his socks. Yep. Matchy-matchy. Dark with a pattern.
“That’s Vince, my head of security. He’s worked with me for a long time.”
I thought back, to the first night I met him, and tried to remember if he’d been in the front room. Maybe he had. I’d been distracted by the two big guys, linemen who had practically snarled when Tim and Jim had approached them. I felt the car shift into gear and looked out the window, the night too dark to see anything. “Where are we going?”
“Not too far. Don’t worry.”
“Somewhere that doesn’t need shoes?”
I ran my hands along a group of controls on the door, finding and activating the seat heater and a massage function. Underneath me, the leather minutely shifted, a soothing roll of action that felt heavenly. I sank into the seat and Dario chuckled.
“Having fun?”
“This massager is much nicer than the one at the pedicure place.”
“I’d hope so.”
He reached forward and pressed a button, a footrest appearing, my chair reclining slightly.
“Wow.” I closed my eyes and let my arms hang limp. “I don’t know why you scowl so much. This is all I’d need in life to be happy.”
