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“You make a good espresso.” I smirk at him.
“That machine cost eight grand. It better make a decent cup.”
“It’s definitely passable. But I’ve had better.”
Humor flickers in his gaze. “Iammaking you uncomfortable.”
Damn it. He’s right.
“I’m… I’m going to go run some errands.” I move to sneak past him, but he reaches out and stops me. His hand closes around my upper arm and he holds me back before I can make my escape.
“Phi, you never answered my question.”
“Which one would that be?”
I’m held hostage by his stare as he pins me with it. Suddenly, the humor’s gone. Only a seriousness remains, like we’re done with our awkward flirtatious ex banter.Now, he means business.
“You okay?” he asks. The combination of his grip on my arm and his surveying stare draw a shivery spark down my spine.
Salvatore’s always going to look out for me. It’s always going to be a bottom line with him.
I nod. “Starting to be.”
He nods too and then lets me go. “Next time, I’ll put a shirt on.”
Good.
I don’t need any sexy, shirtless, mafia ex-boyfriends knocking me off my game when I’m just trying to learn what normal feels like again.
* * *
The second growing pain of living with your mafia ex-boyfriend is one I discover later in the week. I return to work after my day off, immersing myself in the case we’re putting together against Frausto. Though as hard as I try to focus on work, I’m often drawn to thoughts about what’s going on in my personal life right now—my current living situation being one.
Salvatore’s loft is large enough for a family of ten let alone the two of us, but that doesn’t make it any less… strange.
I’ve forced myself to grow accustomed to running into him at any given moment. He’s taken more care to put on shirts whenever he thinks I might be around. We’ve shared quick exchanges about meaningless things like the history of the building he purchased and even my cats.
Somehow, it only makes things feel more awkward. More of a reminder that I’m an intruder. He’s invited me into his world as a means of protection.
The only positive is that he was correct about it being discreet. So far, nobody knows I’m staying with him.
“Ms. Adams, I know what secret you’ve been hiding,” says Commissioner Flynn, entering my office without notice. He puts a smile on his face as he walks into the room.
I flinch from where I sit at my desk, mixed up in thoughts of Salvatore. “Commissioner… you weren’t on my schedule. What secret is it you’re referencing?”
“Your apartment! I heard from Rachel it’s under renovation.”
“Oh… yes. I decided it was time.”
Crap.How could I forget the commissioner’s ex-wife lives on the floor of my building? She must’ve heard I had hired a company to do work on my apartment (at the suggestion of Salvatore to cover our tracks). I try and play it off with a polite smile as the commissioner invites himself into a seat opposite my desk.
“I’m sure you didn’t come by to discuss my home renovation project. What can I do for you, Commissioner?”
“I wanted to know if you’d given what we discussed last time any more thought.”
“Going easy on the Belini’s?” I arch a brow.
“I heard you’re building quite the case against Hector’s right hand, Frausto.”
