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“Fuck, I’m good,” he declared, moving away from me.
And, yes, yes he was.
In so many unexpected ways.
I knew there was so much that was still unknown.
But I was uncharacteristically excited to step into that uncertainty.
So long as it was Cesare walking beside me…
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Mere - 1 day
Apparently, the boss of the New York City mafia operated out of a gorgeous, historic brownstone.
I don’t know exactly what I had been expecting. Some dark, creepy warehouse, maybe.
But as Cesare led me up the steps and in through the front door, all I was met with was someone’s very lovely, multi-million dollar home.
“Just give me ten minutes,” Cesare said, squeezing my hand as he pressed me into a chair in the dining room.
Somewhere upstairs, a baby was letting out deep belly laughs, and I swear to God, I felt an ache in my womb that I had never experienced before.
I’d never understood the term ‘baby fever’ before. Perhaps because I’d never been around a man I would even consider starting a family with.
My hand went subconsciously to my belly, thinking of it swelling one day, of a baby with Cesare’s smile and my eyes.
It was the front door slamming and footsteps moving down the center hall that had thoughts of babies slipping away.
I tensed in my seat, feeling wholly out of place, unsure what I could say if someone asked me why I was there.
Could I claim I was Cesare’s girlfriend? Or would that freak him out if it got back to him?
I expected another suited man, like the two we had walked past outside. But this guy was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and black boots.
His gaze was forward until he saw or sensed me, making him freeze mid-stride, his dark gaze slipping in my direction.
His head nodded a bit as a strange upside down smile tugged at his lips.
Then he was turning.
And stalking right toward me.
Stalking.
That was how this man walked.
Like a predator.
He stopped right in front of me, dropping down to a squat in front of me, and reaching out for my chin, turning my face side to side, then looking down at my hand.
A muscle was ticking in his jaw when he looked back up at me.
“Who was it?” he asked.
“I’m… sorry? Who was what?” I asked.
“Who did it? Who cut you up and beat you up? Give me a name.”
“Oh, um, Jake… Jameson,” I corrected.
“Jameson,” he said, nodding as he got to his feet.
He was back at the doorway of the dining room when another man suddenly stepped in, pressing a hand to his shoulder to stop him from moving.
“Where do you think you’re going?” the new man, one in a suit who had a really silly “cocky” belt buckle.
“Gotta find a guy named Jameson who thinks it’s okay to beat up on girls,” the other man said, making me jump up out of my chair.
“You can’t,” I squeaked, watching as both men looked at me.
“I can. And I’ll enjoy it,” he said, a evil spark in his eyes.
“No. I mean… you can’t. He’s dead already.”
“Oh,” he said, the man deflating like a balloon. “Did he suffer at least?” he asked.
“Judging by Cesare’s hands, yes,” the other man said.
“No shit? You’re Cesare’s woman?” the scarier guy asked. “Whose wife are you?” he asked, making the other man swat him on the back of the head.
“This is Brio. He has no manners,” the other man said. “I’m Emilio Costa,” he added. “And you must be Mere,” he said, giving me a smile that would have been completely charming if it reached his eyes.
“Yes,” I said, giving him what I hoped was a warm smile. “Cesare thought that maybe your, ah, boss might, you know, want to talk to me about… everything that happened.”
At my fumbling, Emilio’s face softened a bit more, and for a moment, his eyes were warm.
“Honey, you don’t need to explain yourself. You’re with Cesare, that’s all the explanation anyone needs from you. You want a cup of coffee?” he asked, gesturing toward the hall.
“Sure,” I said, giving him a smile.
“Hey,” Emilio called to Brio who was walking back out toward the street. “Where the fuck are you going?” he asked. “You’re supposed to be talking to Enz next.”
“You know, I think I’m cool with not getting my ass chewed out for another day or two,” Brio said, shrugging, then disappearing.
“It’s gonna be a lot of names and faces over the next few days,” Emilio told me as he made a fresh pot of coffee. “No one is going to get their panties in a bunch about you not remembering them. Except maybe Cesare’s immediate family.”
“I met Gav,” I told him, getting a smirk out of the man.
“I’m sorry,” he said, making a laugh escape me.
“He’s really not that bad!” I objected. “He probably wouldn’t be so grumpy if Cesare didn’t pick on him all the time.”
