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My enigmatic stranger walks in as though he’s lived here all his life, and I can’t decide whether to laugh or cry. The son of a bitch knew who I was the entire time. He was probably the one who informed Ajello. Bastard.
“Milene,” my brother says and nods toward the mysterious asshole. “This is Don Salvatore Ajello.”
My jaw drops. What the fuck?
“Nice to meet you at last, Miss Scardoni,” he says in his even tone.
I stare. Blink. Then stare some more, paying no attention to what is going on around me.
“For such a tiny woman, you’ve created quite an uproar,” he adds, his words snapping me out of my stupor.
I press my lips together. The nerve he has, pretending we don’t know each other when he’s well aware that he had his tongue thoroughly inspecting my mouth not forty-eight hours earlier. I guess he’s waiting for my reply. Well, he’s not getting it.
“Milene!” Angelo nudges me with his elbow. “She’s just nervous.”
I let my lips widen in a sarcastic smile. Salvatore Ajello ignores my brother’s comment and regards me. Even though I keep on smiling, I communicate all the loathing I feel through my eyes. And there is loads of it.
My gaze is focused on the road, which comes in and out of view through the windshield as wipers periodically clear the glass of the steady rain.
Milene hasn’t said a word since I walked into her place, other than to answer “Yes” to the officiant’s question. I expected her to be surprised, but I didn’t expect this. Being ignored is a new experience for me, and the fact she’s the onedoing it makes me want to hit something. Instead, I grip the steering wheel harder. It doesn’t help. I take a deep breath, trying to quell the raging fire within. Pissed. No, that’s not the exact term. Livid. I am fucking livid, even though it’s not a reasonable reaction.
A mewling sound reaches my ears from the back seat. The damn cat had completely slipped my mind until Milene left her building, holding a carrier with the dumb animal inside.
I park the car in my spot in the underground garage below my building and get out, intending to open the door for Milene, but she’s already out and opening the back door to take out the cat. Walking around the car, I open the trunk and take out her bag as she moves to stand to my right. She grabs the handle with her free hand, wrapping her fingers around it right next to mine, and pulls, trying with all her might to take the bag from me. I keep hold until she releases the handle and huffs. As we walk toward the elevator, Milene makes sure she stays two steps behind me, and doesn’t say a word.
When we reach my penthouse, I lead her across the living room and down the hallway to my bedroom and open the door. Milene stops at the threshold and casts a quick glance around the room.
“Not happening,” she says and takes a step back into the hallway.
“What, exactly?”
“Me sleeping in your room.”
I meet her gaze. “How do you know this is my bedroom?”
“Please.” She snorts. “Massive dark wood furniture? A bed the size of a football field? It screams ‘self-centered, selfish bastard.’”
“Is that how you see me?”
“Yes. Am I wrong?”
No, she isn’t wrong. “And where would you like to sleep?”
“Back at my place.”
“You know that’s not an option.”
She lifts the cat carrier and wraps her arms around it, creating a barrier between us.
Maybe I should give her some space. For now. “All right.”
I exit my bedroom and head down the hallway toward the second bedroom, leaving her to follow.
“Lunch will be in the dining room at two,” I say when I step inside, turning to find her watching me through narrowed eyes. “Is something wrong?”
She lowers the cat carrier to the floor, then crosses her arms and juts her chin out. “You mean, other than you making a mess of my life, Salvatore?”
A feeling of immense satisfaction passes through me upon hearing her say my name. I take two steps forward until I am standing right in front of her. “Would you prefer I killed you?”
