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"Nothing," I swallow.
"It’s something." He rises to his feet, then comes around and squats down in front of me.
"Look at me," he murmurs.
I shake my head and tears prick the backs of my eyes. What the hell? Why am I feeling teary now? I didn’t cry when he pulled a gun on the Sovranos, or when he hauled me out of there, or when I realized that we were boarding a plane out of Italy, so why is it that I feel like bawling now?
I sniffle, and he cups my cheek. "Hey," his voice softens, "tell me what’s wrong."
"Why does something have to be wrong?"
"Because you are crying?"
"I am not crying," I insist, even as a teardrop rolls down my cheek. He scoops it up then brings his fingertip to his mouth and sucks on it.
"Why did you do that?" I scowl.
"Because I wanted to know how you taste? I want to know everything about you, Sunshine. Your laughter, your tears, how you look when you sleep, how you moan when I make love to you, how you look first thing in the morning when you wake up in my bed."
"What about my favorite flower?"
"What is it?" He peers at me expectantly.
"It’s a tulip—a black tulip," I add.
"I’ll fill the entire garden with black tulips if it makes you smile. In fact, I’ll buy you a tulip farm in Amsterdam if that would make you stop crying."
A chuckle spills from my mouth, "What would I do with a tulip farm in Amsterdam?"
"Fine, I’ll buy you a tulip farm in the English countryside," his brow furrows, "assuming there are tulip farms in the English countryside?"
"There are a few," I narrow my gaze on him, "not that I want you to do that." I add, "I’d be happy expanding my business and opening a branch of my flower shop in London."
"You can do anything you want, baby."
"I can?"
"I know you’re a savvy business woman. I bet you’ll have it up and running in no time."
My cheeks heat. I am not used to praise from him, or from anyone else, for that matter. I’ve always done my thing, but done it quietly, not wanting to draw attention to myself. Partly because Xander had loaned me the money to open my shop in Palermo, I’d preferred to just focus on the business, not wanting to draw anyone’s attention to me. Even though I’d known the Sovranos well, thanks to my parents. and to Xander. Still… I had never been completely comfortable with the fact that I indirectly owed my success to the Cosa Nostra.
"I want to do this on my own."
"Youaregoing to do this on your own," he murmurs.
"I mean, I don’t want a loan from you. I’d prefer to raise the funding for the shop on my own."
"And your shop in Palermo?" He searches my features, "What would you do with that?"
"My friend Elsa could continue to manage the day-to-day operations. I’ve already made her the general manager. I'd oversee it, but she could run it."
"And you wouldn’t miss it?"
"I'd still be involved," I tip up my chin, "but this is a chance to expand my brand in a new country, and this time, I’d own the place completely."
He holds my gaze, then nods, "Good." He straightens, then holds out his hand. When I take it, he draws me up to my feet. He peers into my eyes, his own gleaming with intent.
My belly trembles and my thighs clench, "Umm, what are you doing?"
