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“Melanzane alla parmigiana,”he says in perfect Italian, making my knees weak.
“Sounds sexy.”
He tilts his head. “Do you like me speaking Italian?”
“Is the pope catholic?” I nod. “I think I love it.”
His eyes flash, and he pulls out my chair. “Siediti, bellissima.”
I sit, knowing I won’t survive the entire dinner if he keeps talking Italian. “Where did you learn Italian?”
He arches a brow. “Both of my parents were Italian. They emigrated from Bologna.”
“Oh, were you born in Italy?”
He shakes his head. “No. Chicago born and bred.” He dishes me a helping of the food he cooked, which smells divine. “Now, enough about me, baby. I want to know about you.”
“What do you want to know?” It’s weird him paying any interest in me, as he’s been so cold since the day we met.
“Everything,” he answers as he helps himself to some of the food.
I shake my head. “There’s not a lot to know.” I pick up my fork and taste the food, groaning as it tastes as delicious as it smells. “Damn, this is good.”
He smiles at me again, making butterflies erupt in my stomach. “What was your childhood like?”
The question hits me hard, making my stomach churn. “It was okay until my dad died.”
Those dark and normally cold eyes soften. “How old were you?”
“Eleven.”
His jaw clenches. “That must have been hard. I saw how difficult it was for my children when my first wife was killed.”
“She was murdered as well, right?”
There’s something dark in his eyes as he nods.
“Did you catch who did it?”
He tilts his head. “Yes and no.”
My brow furrows.
“The individual who carried out her murder met a grizzly end. The family who were responsible didn’t. Mia married into that family, in fact.”
“What?” That is ridiculous. I can hardly imagine Mia would be okay with marrying into a family who were behind her mom’s murder, but maybe I don’t know her that well.
“There was very bad blood between the Callaghan family and ours. I also ordered the hit on his mom, which made us even.”
I stare at Remy and wonder who he truly is, as I hardly know him. He talks of murdering people as if it were nothing but the weather. “Are you serious?”
He sips his wine. “Yes, it’s an eye for an eye in our world, Ella.”
I shake my head. “How can you be so cold?”
“I thought you knew what kind of man I am.”
“I might know it, but I don’t like it. What about the trafficking? Are you going to stop that?”
