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And this was all I could ever have with him.
Before I could let myself get too carried away, I got off my bed, going into the bathroom to get dressed, to feed the kittens like I’d said, then to wash my face.
What was done was done.
I couldn’t change it.
But I had to make sure it didn’t happen again.
Not because of the job.
Not even because it was adding to the regretful future betrayal.
But because I was scared that if I gave the situation half a chance, I would fall head-over-heels in love with Emilio Costa.
An enemy of my Family.
CHAPTER NINE
Emilio
“Damnit,” I hissed when I got home early for dinner only to find that Avery was gone again.
She’d actually been up and out of the house before I’d even gotten up this morning.
Which could only mean she was avoiding me again.
Understandably, even.
I mean, this was her job.
I was her boss.
She had to be beating herself up for giving in to me.
And, I reminded myself as I poured a scotch, I was supposed to be beating myself up for putting her in that position.
I couldn’t seem to muster any regret, though.
It was something that had been weeks in the making, to be honest.
Not because she was home, because of some crass “convenient piece of ass” type of shit.
Because I liked the woman.
Since she blew into my life like a hurricane, shaking things loose in me that I’d thought were gone forever. An ease. A warmth. A version of myself that I hadn’t realized how much I missed.
I wanted more with her.
I got that it was… awkward.
I was paying her to be here, and sleeping with her or trying to pursue anything more than that probably felt… wrong.
But it didn’t have to.
If she would just stop avoiding me and talk it out.
Thunder rolled, long and loud, shaking the walls of the house as I looked out the window to the back garden she’d done so much work on already.
Suddenly, I would envision it finished. Flowers, maybe an herb garden, a table in the center.
The two of us sitting out there, eating the food she’d lovingly prepared, drinking wine, laughing.
I was seeing a future with her.
And, what’s more, I wanted it.
Me, someone who didn’t think he’d settle down until I was almost too damn old for it, wanted to come home to the same woman every night. In particular, this woman.
The one with the shitty pop music taste, who shook her ass around with gusto as she sang—sometimes into her spatula. The one who made a mess to clean up a mess. Who seemed incapable of going through a day without spilling something on herself. With her frequent, intense emotions. With her nose that got red when she was upset. With her tendency to curse when she was uncomfortable. And her ability to laugh at herself.
She was nothing like I would have pictured wanting in a significant other. Which was probably what was so amazing about her. She was surprising. She was different.
Fuck, my mom was going to be over the goddamn moon about this when I got to talk to Avery and worked shit out.
I was sure I would also never live it down that she’d been the one to introduce me to Avery. Against my will.
The sky opened up and started pouring.
Figuring if she was this late, and out in this storm, she wasn’t going to want to come home to cook right away, I ordered in.
Then opened a bottle of wine.
Lit the candles on the dining room table.
Turned down the other lights.
Started a fire.
I wouldn’t call myself a romantic man, but shit was looking romantic as fuck by the time I was done.
And then there she was, running in the door, dripping water everywhere, dropping bags onto the floor.
“Couldn’t hold off for five more fuck… oh,” Avery said as her gaze lifted, as she looked in at the dining room, at me standing in the doorway. “Hey,” she said as I pushed off the doorway and made my way in front of her, reaching out to start to grab the hem of her drenched sweater.
“Arms up,” I said, watching as her eyes heated, confirming my suspicions that it wasn’t that she was over me, just that she didn’t like the idea of fucking her boss, of screwing up her new job.
“I, ah, I know we needed the rain, but it’s been ridiculous lately,” she said, trying to lighten the moment as I tossed the wet sweater on top of her bags. “I mean I got caught in it twice this week. I, ah, I got some stuff to throw something together for—“ she kept babbling.
“I ordered dinner,” I cut her off.
“What? I was going to cook,” she said.
“And now you don’t have to,” I said, shrugging.
“Have to?” she repeated, scrunching her nose. “I like to.”
