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“I’ll get some guys on security. Just let me know where and when.” Frankie and Dmitri will keep them safe.
“No, I can handle it. She is already on edge about my lifestyle; I don’t want that ruining our engagement. It’s just one night.”
I roll my eyes. He’s so stubborn sometimes. He can protect himself, without a doubt. It doesn’t mean it sits well with me, especially now Maddie is pregnant.
I hear Maddie calling his name in the background and chuckle. Both of us have been whisper-talking this entire time. He doesn’t have a clue it’s because I have Rosa tucked neatly into my side with her ass pressed up against my hip.
“I gotta go. I’ll speak to you later.”
“Have fun.”
As I toss the phone to the foot of the bed, Rosa rolls over to face me, her features still serene in sleep. I glance down at her and smile that she had a night without a nightmare. Even if it’s another night my cock painfully aches. But it’s worth it to see the glow shining through on her skin.
That perfect smile that makes my heart race.
I wrap my arm back around her and close my eyes. These moments of tranquility don’t happen often for me.
CHAPTERSEVENTEEN
rosa
When I get up, I find him already in the kitchen.
“Good morning. What’s on your agenda today, Rosa?” He opens up the cupboard, pulling out a black mug.
“I don’t know? A walk out in the garden? Can you get me some books? Maybe take me out on a job with you? Just sit and talk?”
I snap my mouth closed after the last option. He checks his Rolex with a frown and opens the fridge. “What about breakfast?” he asks.
I slide onto the barstool and watch him bring the coffee machine to life.
“Breakfast sounds lovely,” I reply.
His black Armani suit fits him like a second skin. It’s snug enough I can almost see his biceps straining against the material. But it’s those damn tattooed forearms I can’t stop looking at as he rolls up his sleeves.
“Omelet okay?” he asks, turning to face me.
His deep, gravelly voice is doing things to me I’ve never experienced.
“F-fine,” I stutter.
He nods and cracks the eggs into a mixing bowl.
“How long have you been the boss now?” I rest my chin on my palm and watch as he cooks.
“I’ve been around for a while, seven years or so, since my biological father was murdered.”
His back is to me, so I can’t read his face. Biological father? “Oh, wow.”What a strange way to talk about his dad.
“I never knew Marco had two daughters,”he says over his shoulder as he pours the egg mix into a pan. My eyes widen in surprise. It’s interesting my dad kept us hidden.
I swallow the lump in my throat.“He didn’t want us around much,” I all but whisper.
A few moments pass in silence as he fries the omelets.
He slips one from the pan onto a dish with practiced ease. “You know, I never knew my real dad. I grew up on the streets. I was a foster kid.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. That must have been hard.”
