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I only hoped she didn't wear off on Samara when the time came for them to meet.
Fifteen
Samara
Lino tossed the shrimp into the pan with the buttery scampi sauce. Just the smell of it made my mouth water, even if the chef hadn't been the sexiest man I'd ever seen. He had a shirt on, something that seemed a little like a travesty, but the sight of his grey sweats hanging off his ass and the snug black t-shirt fitted to his shoulders was almost as good.
Almost.
The black apron he donned was always the icing on the cake though, but I didn't dare comment. I'd learned a long time ago not to question the apron, something I didn't think he felt comfortable enough to wear in front of anyone else. Though, I'd never heard of him cooking dinner for anyone before. I'd heard tales of him cooking with Ivory, but given that happened at the Bellandi estate, I doubted he risked the hit to his reputation by wearing an apron.
I loved it.
As soon as he’d cooked the shrimp to perfection, he tossed the linguine into the pan and finished cooking it in the buttery sauce that I just hoped I didn't dribble all over my super fancy pajamas. I was pure class like that.
If I'd owned a shirt with a clever saying about life needing to have order in the chaos, I'd have a stain on it. That was just me.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, turning around finally and twirling some linguine and shrimp onto my plate. I didn't waste any time picking up my fork and shoving some into my mouth even though it scalded my tongue. The moan that slipped free would have been indecent if I'd been naked.
Hell even dressed it bordered on indecent. Lino raised a brow at me, as if to point out the obvious. "That's hot," he added, crossing his arms over his chest and rinsing the pan out. Then he took his seat at the island next to me, bumping my knee with his pointedly.
"I feel good. I think I could go back to work, maybe tomorrow?" I suggested.
Lino laughed, tentatively twirling his linguine like a gentleman. And here I was eating like the troll from under the bridge. "That's funny."
"Why is that funny?" I turned to him, wanting to stare him down when he pissed me off.
"I can see you’re feeling better," he chuckled, pointing a fork at my face. "The attitude has returned, but your neck is still bruised. How do you plan on explaining that?"
"I'll wear a turtleneck," I said with a shrug.
"No. You will return to work when the bruises are gone and not a day before."
My fork dropped to my plate with a clatter, my glare turning glacial. "And since when are you the boss of me?"
He dropped his own fork, turning a matching glare my way. "Since I got a call in the middle of the night that someone strangled you! That's when. You're playing under my rules now, vita mia. You lost your right to make decisions concerning your safety when you failed to call me the moment he hurt you, the first time."
I winced, whispering his name.
"No. I don't want to hear it, Samara. Do you have any idea what it feels like to know that you kept that from me? I thought we were honest with each other, but I find out you've been lying to me for years. Not telling me that your husband was hurting you?" He scoffed. "I'm trying to be understanding, but I can only take so much. For now, the only way I'll be able to function is if I know you're safe because I control your safety. I suggest you accept that."
I blanched, staring at him in horror. Lino had never pushed beyond my boundaries, he might push me right up to the line, but the moment I pushed back he would find a compromise. For him to push past that line meant I'd really, truly fucked up, and that the consequences hadn't just been mine to bear in the end.
My secrets had hurt him. I couldn't fix that, but I could give a little to help him cope in the aftermath.
"Okay," I whispered. He gazed at me with wide eyes for a moment before turning back to his food. I followed suit, and we fell into a slightly uncomfortable silence until we finished.
Given his mood, I didn't want to push too hard. Even before his outburst Lino had been weird. Ever since he got back from Matteo's house the day before, something in him seemed even more intense. Like he wouldn't let me out of his sight, in spite of the fact that my body was healing. In fact, sometimes I got the impression his sense of urgency stemmed from the healing. Like a clock was ticking down to something, and I had absolutely no clue what.
Or maybe I just didn't want to know, didn't want to think about the fact that he looked at me like I might slip t
hrough his fingers.
How could I, when I'd been wrapped around his finger since childhood?
I wanted to understand. Wanted him to look at me the way I'd always dreamed he might, but it was far better for my health that he didn't. I wasn't ready to be just another one of his mistakes. Above all else, I'd never survive Lino looking at me like I was just another woman. He might not have been mine, but I meant something to him in a way that no other woman did.
As his best friend, I was a permanent fixture in his life, not just yesterday's one-night stand.
