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I begin to wiggle out from under him, saying, “The sun is coming up. I’ll prepare coffee quickly.” Climbing out of bed, I think to ask, “How do you like your coffee?”
“Sweet like you.” A grin spreads over his face as he stretches out. “Two sugars and cream.”
Walking out of the bedroom, I feel a burst of happiness in my chest. It’s such a rare emotion, it makes my eyes sting with tears.
I find my way to the kitchen in the three-story apartment, and checking all the cupboards, I try to remember where everything is.
Suddenly I pause as another wave of happiness hits. Turning in a circle, I look at the beautiful kitchen. I inhale the new smell of my home.
Home.
A tremble racks hard through me, and I take a quivering breath.
Thank you, God, for answering my prayer.
With a massive smile on my face, I grab two cups from the cupboard. Making coffee was always a routine kind of thing, but this morning, I take extra care. As I’m stirring the warm liquid, strong arms circle my waist, and a kiss is pressed to the side of my neck.
I didn’t even hear Armani come into the kitchen.
God, this feels like a dream. If it is, I never want to wake up.
I set the spoon down, then Armani asks, “Which one is mine?”
“The one on the right.”
He picks up the cup and takes a sip. My eyes are locked on him as I try to figure out if I made it right.
Armani winks at me. “Perfect.”
With my steaming mug of coffee in hand, I follow him to the courtyard and take a seat on one of the benches while he opens the main door leading to the waterfront before coming to sit next to me.
We drink our coffee as the sun starts to rise, and when a gondola passes by our entrance, I say, “Venice feels magical.”
“There’s no place like it on earth,” Armani murmurs. Lifting his arm, he wraps it around my shoulders. “It’s cold.”
I set my cup down on the floor, and darting back up the stairs, I rush to the bedroom and grab the covers off the bed. When I get back to the courtyard, Armani lets out a chuckle.
We snuggle under the covers, and I lean against his side, my coffee forgotten.
Thank you, Misha. You chose such an amazing man for me.
I don’t know how much time passes before Armani lets out a sigh. “We need to get ready for the day. My mother is expecting us for breakfast.”
I dart upright. “I’m meeting your mother today?”
Armani picks up my cup and rises to his feet. “Yes, I can’t go away for three days and leave you all by yourself.”
I gather the bedcovers in my arms and follow Armani back into the apartment with nerves spinning in my stomach.
I hope Mrs. De Santis will like me. Wait, is that even what I should call her?
Just to be sure, I ask, “Do I call your mother Mrs. De Santis?”
Armani places the cups in the sink, then replies, “You’ll call her Signora until she tells you otherwise. The same counts for my aunt.”
“Signora,” I test the word, getting a nod of approval from Armani.
When we return to the bedroom, I quickly place the cover back on the bed and set the pillows in neat rows.
Armani pulls a pair of jeans and a comfy sweater from the closet, grabs the gun from the bedside table, then disappears into the bathroom.
Deciding to wear something similar, I quickly strip out of my leggings and T-shirt and get dressed.
Not knowing whether we’ll do a lot of walking today, I put on a pair of comfortable shoes. When I’m ready, and Armani’s still in the bathroom, I head back to the kitchen to wash the cups.
“I’m just going to introduce Tiana to my mother before leaving to take care of the job,” I hear Armani say as he comes down the hallway. “Yeah, we had a good night. I gave her an engagement ring.”
I stand still in the kitchen, shamelessly listening to his conversation.
“She looks like she’s adjusting.” There’s a pause, then Armani mutters, “Stop worrying, Misha.” … “No, I don’t need backup. I have to do this on my own.” … “I’ll be fine.” … “You know I can’t tell you what the job is. This line isn’t secure.” … “Tiana will be fine. Look, I have to go. I’ll call if I run into trouble.”
Armani lets out a sigh and mutters, “Cristo, he’s like a mother hen.”
He comes into the kitchen and glances at me. “Go get ready.”
I rush to the bathroom and hurry through my routine of brushing my teeth and hair. I wash my face and steal a few minutes to put on moisturizer, mascara, and lipstick.
When I walk back into the kitchen, Armani’s leaning against a counter while studying something on his phone. He looks so serious and hot, the sight has a wave of attraction spreading through my abdomen.
