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“Milos.”
She’s still holding his hand. Jealousy surges inside me. Belinda is beautiful. Tall, blonde, with legs that go on for days. If she weren’t so nice I would hate her guts. Right now, though, I’m hating the way Milos is smiling down at her.
“A kitten,” I say way too loud and sharply as I thrust the kitten still sucking on the bottle at Belinda. She’s a nurse with more than ten years of experience who stands in for Hank—the veterinarian who owns and runs the clinic. “She was in the engine of Milos’ SUV. I gave her a once-over, but if you could…”
“Of course. Tis the season, every year during the coldest time kittens go looking for somewhere warm to hide.” She finally lets go of his hand, and takes the kitten from me. “Hi, sweetie. How are you? Oh my goodness, hungry, aren’t you?”
I step back from the table to give her room. I’m too close to Milos, the fucker who not surprisingly loves blondes and smiles wide at them and… His eyes meet mine. Yellow glows so hot it sucks all the air from my lungs.
“Sit,malyshka, you appear heated.” It’s an order.
Normally I would argue anytime someone told me to do anything, except my legs are wobbly. I nearly fall into the lone chair in the room.
“Would you please X-ray the kitten to ensure there are no hidden issues?” Milos turns his attention to Belinda.
“She seems fine, but I understand your concern.” Cuddling the kitten close, she leaves the room.
“She’s single. If you want her number, I’m sure she’ll give it to you,” I mumble as I stare at the closed door.
He doesn’t say anything, yet I feel his eyes on me as heavy as a touch. I’m so freaking hot I want to take off my sweater. I don’t dare. The shirt underneath is old and too tight. I’m only wearing it because it was the one of the few clean ones I had.
I give in and look up. His smile is barely there. It isn’t mocking the way I’m used to seeing on a man’s face.
“I have no desire to ask for her number. However, I will need yours. In order to check up on the kitten while you have her. Then you will call me when she’s ready.” His large hand goes into his inner coat pocket. The phone is sleek, black, expensive like him.
Shrugging, I dig into my jeans pocket to pull out my embarrassing old flip phone. I give him my number. Immediately, a text comes through.
You will savemy number as Milos. I am saving your number as kotyonok, Russian for kitten. Not for the kitten but for the way you hiss and swipe, then purr with pleasure when you have a kitten in your arms.
I blush again.God, Belinda didn’t blush. I swear I don’t usually blush this much. Except a few times around Dominic and Tony Sabatini, they were so— “You know Tony and Dominic?”
A frown and both eyebrows go up. “Tony and Dominic were my entry into the partnership I formed with the Outfit. How well do you know them? Are you attracted to them?” The question is a warning.
The approval of the Sabatini’s adds another layer to him. Tony and Dominic were extremely selective of who they did business with. If they didn’t respect the person, it didn’t matter how much money could be made they didn’t deal with them. His question causes another blush, it’s embarrassing. I swear until someone mentioned them I never thought of the crush I developed, then died long ago.
“You are…to both of them.” Menace vibrates from him.
I shake my head. “It was a middle school crush thing. Tony’s old enough to be my grandfather or close, and Dominic would never…” I shrug defensively. “Okay, yes. I did wonder if maybe, but I grew out of it. They’re too…”
“Too what?” He growls.
Holy crap, he actually growled like an angry dog. Fear sends the words spilling from me to placate him. “Too mafia, too gorgeous to be interested in me, too much. Someone like me doesn’t even register to men like them. And in the end I was relieved nothing could or would come of it.”
“Relieved how?” The menace is finally gone, yet he’s still tightly coiled, as if he could strike at any moment.
“I don’t want anything to do with that world. Guns, money, death. I want boring, kittens, books.”
For some reason it doesn’t seem like he likes that answer. His phone rings, he answers it. I would never have thought Russian was a sexy language.
Ending the call, he slides the phone back into the inner pocket. “Was Russian your first language? You have only a trace of an accent when you speak English, but you also speak carefully, like many of us who grew up speaking another language, to select the right word in English.”
He nods. “Russian was my first language. While I was born here in Chicago, my father was adamant his children were raised speaking Russian. You were raised on Italian?”
I’m shocked when he asks the question in Italian. I nod. “On Carlo’s orders, it’s a mafia thing. You speak Italian?”
Another nod, a genuine smile causes my stomach to flip a dozen times. Wow, his smile is lethal to all my beliefs that I was immune to a gorgeous man. “I found it helps dealing with the Outfit. They are unaware. I am asking you not to tell anyone.”
I blush at the honor of him telling me. “I won’t tell anyone—especially Carlo. Tony and Dominic wouldn’t work with you if they didn’t respect and have a certain level of trust with you.”
